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Post by PFA on May 11, 2014 12:14:26 GMT -5
Since this contains both Mafia fic and Medieval fic now (and maybe Sci-Fi fic eventually? We'll see), I'm going to color code this! Mafia 3 fic will be represented by blueMedieval fic will be represented by greenExpect spoilers for Mafia in Mafia fic, and likewise for Medieval.  --- Index (in chronological order)Mafia 3:Medieval: |
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Post by PFA on May 11, 2014 12:23:49 GMT -5
I seem to be creating a growing number of Mafia fanfics, so time to rip off Birdy and make a thread! 8D Obviously contains Mafia spoilers. (Also Medieval now because Medieval fic is a thing!) (First off, obligatory link to the scene I posted in my scrapbook) So as you may or may not know, this post was originally longer, with more dialogue between the students. I kept a copy of the post without the cut dialogue, so I figure I may as well post it here: Longer Mafia postOnce they had finished drying the papers, Professor Bardsley, the students (sans Cassidy) and some others took their findings to the town hall to present to the mayor. The professor knocked on the door, then waited for a response. It sounded like the mayor was talking to someone else, so they would likely have to wait until they were finished. While they were waiting, however, suddenly the lights started to flicker back on.
"The power's back!" Shantelle cheered.
"Thank goodness," said someone else, a boy by the name of Jonathan.
"Excuse me guys, I think I'll just run back to the salon to drop some stuff!" Mr. Endicott said, handing some papers over to Professor Bardsley. "You hold onto these, I'll be with you in a few minutes."
"Alright," the professor replied simply, nodding.
They waited for... a while. While Professor Bardsley was perfectly content to wait for them to finish, the students started to get a little impatient.
"I mean, like, what are they talking about in there?" Shantelle wondered.
"I'm sure it's something very important," Professor Bardsley told her. "It's only fair to wait our turn."
"I dunno, maybe they didn't hear us knock?" one girl, Susie, wondered, while boredly texting one of her friends. "Maybe we should knock harder."
"I'm starting to think knocking isn't good enough," Jonathan remarked. "Maybe we should kick the door in."
"Now now, we wouldn't want to interrupt an important meeting," Professor Bardsley scolded him, but in that pleasant, teacherly sort of way. "Let's just wait for them to—"
BANG!
Susie jumped, her phone slipping out of her hands and clattering to the floor. "What was that?!"
"Was that a gunshot?!" Jonathan peered out the window, trying to determine where the sound had come from.
Professor Bardsley blinked in surprise. "It... might have been."
"I-it's the mafia again, isn't it?!" Shantelle whimpered. "Someone else is dead!"
"Please, try to remain calm," Professor Bardsley urged them, an authoritative note to his voice. "Whatever you do, stay inside. It's too dangerous to go out."
"B-but... what about Leo?" Shantelle asked, fiddling with her hair nervously. "He just went outside. What if he's hurt?"
"We can't take that chance," was his reply. "We don't want to risk anyone else getting hurt."
Shantelle relented, nodding mutely. Susie had picked up her phone again, texting someone if they knew what had happened. Everyone else waited in their seats impatiently, wondering if it was just a fluke—maybe it wasn't a gunshot that they'd heard, but instead a firecracker or something. I mean, it was still early January, so some people must have had them leftover from New Year's, right?
But then, someone screamed.
"S-someone's in trouble!" Shantelle yelped. Despite the danger, she leapt out of her chair, hurrying out the building to see what was going on.
"Shantelle, wait!" Susie squeaked, hurrying after her friend, again, despite the danger.
"Don't go outside!" Professor Bardsley called after them, watching them hurry off. He immediately handed the stack of papers off to the nearest person before following them, hoping to catch up with them before either of them got hurt.
---
The scene at Siddhi Khaoti's house was awful. The mute painter had evidently fallen from a window, and been shot in the back by the Chill of the Night—made obvious by the chain of paper snowflakes decorating her body. Upon seeing it, Shantelle let out a shriek. Her friend Susie, who had followed her to the scene, just stood there in shock, eyes wide.
Before they had the chance to fully process what had happened, Professor Bardsley had caught up with them. "Are you two alright?"
"I-it's the mafia!" Shantelle managed through panicked breaths. "Th-those Chill people killed someone else! It's horrible!"
Professor Bardsley frowned at this, trying to get a glimpse of the scene through the crowd. "Who was killed?"
"I-I don't know, I don't recognize her," Susie admitted, whipping out her phone to text someone.
"Susie!" Shantelle yelped. "Texting at a time like this?!"
"Dakota works at the morgue, right? They need to know about the murder!" Susie explained.
Before Susie could finish the text, however, the sound of another gunshot rang through the air, causing her to jump and almost drop her phone again. Shantelle shrieked, clinging to her friend in panic.
"They're still here!" she cried. "Wh-what if we're next?!"
"That... didn't sound very nearby," Professor Bardsley pointed out, looking around with a thoughtful scowl. "But it is definitely too dangerous to stay here. We need to get back to town hall."
"But what about—"
"You can finish your text on the way." The professor started ushering the two girls away from the scene. "But we can't stay here. We need to get inside. Talk to the mayor, if we can."
The girls relented, hurrying back for the town hall, hopefully before any of the mafia could catch them. Professor Bardsley was right; it would be safest to stay inside, preferably in large groups, where the mafias wouldn't be able to pick them off.
...And then, before any of them knew what was happening, Leopold Endicott appeared, clinging to the professor and sobbing into his arms.
"Don't go there, another one... such... a waste! So... beautiful... I... I LOVED him!" the hairdresser blubbered. "I thought... I had finally found... the right one..."
"I... er..." Professor Bardsley stammered, feeling completely blindsided by this. What was he supposed to say? "I-if I may ask, who—"
Before he could get a response, however, Leo broke away, and ran off to his salon in tears. Professor Bardsley just stood frozen in place, trying to process what had just happened. The two girls, while still frightened, watched sympathetically.
"Poor Leo," Shantelle managed. "I-is someone else dead?"
"It might be safe to go check now," Susie spoke up nervously. "Maybe we should go find out?"
"I... what? Wait!" Professor Bardsley was snapped out of his thoughts when the two girls hurried off toward the beach. He groaned, and hurried after them. This was going to be a long day. Speaking of the students, I felt a little bad that I didn't get to post Shantelle and Susie's reactions to a lot of plot stuff, which I was planning on doing, but it didn't end up happening because it was kind of extraneous. But then I decided to write some anyway, so uh, here they are! Shantelle and Susie((Reaction to Bardsley's death))
When Cassidy ran off to the Burger Hut, Jonathan wasn't sure what to do. She obviously wasn't listening to him, and there was no way of getting through to her when she was being this stubborn. But what if it was dangerous? What if someone else got hurt?
He started to follow after her, but before he could catch up, he was stopped by some of Cassidy's friends: Susie and Shantelle. "We heard yelling!" Susie squeaked. "What's going on? Is someone else dead?!"
"It's more than just that," Jonathan told her. "I was at the Burger Hut, and Professor Bardsley was there, too..."
Susie and Shantelle listened as Jonathan recounted the story again, their faces going from concern, to fear, to absolute horror. Professor Bardsley was one of the nicest, most responsible people they'd ever met. But if this story was to be believed, he had been going behind their backs this whole time, all of it a cover to hide that he was a part of the Chill of the Night mafia. That he was a coldblooded killer.
"But... but that doesn't make any sense!" Shantelle insisted. "He can't be with the mafia. He was with us at the town hall when Chill killed that one lady!"
"Y-yeah, but he didn't have to be there for that," Susie pointed out. "He could have gotten his mafia allies to do it while we were... oh 'Woo."
"What?"
"It was a distraction," Susie realized. "Remember how he kept telling us to sit there and wait for the mayor?"
"And he got really mad when you two went to see what was going on," Jonathan added.
"But Leo went outside and he didn't get mad," Shantelle remarked. "A-and the papers! He had us dry all those papers, remember?"
"When he got to the morgue, he just had a stack of soggy papers and said they were evidence. We don't know if they were even real," Jonathan replied.
"He didn't really react to the gunshot sounds, either," Susie mumbled thoughtfully. "He was just really calm..."
"B-but... but he was so nice," Shantelle whimpered. "And he was like, really cute, too..." In response to the weird looks she got, she added, "You know, for a teacher."
"I know it's hard to believe," Jonathan told her, "but I was there when it happened. I saw his face just before he died. It was... it wasn't right."
"That's so creepy," Susie spoke. "I mean, we were there with him that whole day. I've been in his class..."
"I... I wonder what they'll do with his class now?" Shantelle asked. "Now that he's..."
"They'll have to get a new teacher, I guess." Jonathan sighed, pushing past the two girls. "Anyway, I'd better go catch up with Cassidy..."
Shantelle and Susie were silent, lost in their own thoughts as he left. It was just so surprising, so completely unexpected. And if someone as trustworthy as Professor Bardsley could turn out to be mafia... who could you really trust?
===
((Reaction to Round 8 stuff))
Susie was terrified. She'd been seeing less and less of Cassidy lately, ever since these murders started. She'd even stopped coming to class, which really worried Susie. At least she'd gotten a reply to her onslaught of frantic texts yesterday, when it turned out half the town was stuck in the Moviehouse, but today she wasn't getting a response at all. Not from Cassidy, and not from Jonathan or Dakota, either.
To make matters worse, news had travelled around campus that Professor Bardsley had somehow come back to life, and just walked in in the middle of class and started teaching. Just like that! Some of the anthro students said that he still had blood all over his shirt collar, and he didn't even care. He just appeared like some kind of zombie, and started preaching to the class about the downfall of society, and how apparently the mafia was now in charge of Aifam Cove. That was really creepy. Susie did not like zombies. And she really did not like mafia zombies.
And she really, really did not like having no clue where her friends were when there were mafia zombies ON CAMPUS.
"No word from them?" came Shantelle's voice, startling Susie out of her thoughts.
"No! They're not answering at all!" Susie whimpered. "I'm really scared, Shantelle. Why aren't they answering? Where are they?!"
Shantelle frowned. "Y-you don't think...?"
"I don't know!" Susie replied. "I don't know, and that scares me!"
She fiddled with her phone, wondering if she should try texting them again. But she had already sent them probably a dozen texts each, and they hadn't responded to any of them so far. Despite her impulses screaming at her to try again—maybe they'd notice this time!—part of her knew that it wouldn't change anything. If they weren't responding, they weren't responding, no matter how many texts she sent.
And that bothered her. A lot.
Shantelle, meanwhile, was silent. This whole thing just... it was still hard to believe. She still didn't want to believe that this tiny town had been overrun by the mafia. She still didn't want to believe that that nice professor had turned out to be mafia, and had murdered people... possibly even her own classmates? Shantelle's stomach flipped at the thought. Would that man really descend to murdering his own students? She really hoped not. She didn't want to live in fear every day at campus, afraid that one of the teachers would murder her. Professor Bardsley wouldn't do that... right?
Wherever you guys are, she thought to herself, I hope you're okay...
===
((Somewhere between Round 8 and the epilogue))
Susie sighed thoughtfully, as she braided some flowers into a decorative wreath. It turned out Dakota had been killed by the mafia, made especially obvious when she spotted their ghost floating around town, but Cassidy and Jonathan were nowhere to be found. Some people theorized that Professor Bardsley killed them, but even he seemed bothered whenever their names were brought up, talking about how he hoped they could be found. Which implied that they had just... vanished. Skipped town when the mafia took over, probably.
Either way, Susie placed her lovingly crafted flower wreath atop the memorial that had been erected in front of Prettyboy College. For Khiran Chander, a student who had been killed by the mafia. For Cassidy and Jonathan, who were out there somewhere, hopefully safe from all the violence. For everyone who had died during the recent chaos, their lives having been taken entirely too soon.
Susie stepped away from the memorial, pausing to give a hug to her grieving friend, Shantelle. Shantelle was still numb from the whole ordeal, not really sure how to react. So many people had died, and two of her friends had gone missing... part of her wished it was all a horrible nightmare. But it was real.
After a moment of consoling her friend, Susie pulled out her phone, taking a quick picture of the memorial. It was a beautiful memorial, decorated with flowers, ribbons, and photos of the lost students. She made a mental note to herself to see if she could find any good pictures of Enna and Dakota, but for now, she posted the picture on her Facebook page, giving it a quick caption. "In Memoriam."
"I hope you see this, Cassidy, Jonathan," she mumbled as she pressed the post button. "We miss you. Stay safe."
And with that, the two girls walked back to the dorms in silence. --- ...And then for total mood whiplash, I wrote this hilarious, kind of OOC MURDERSHIPPING THING 8D Six MonthsIt was a lovely summer day in Aifam Cove. As usual, tourists came flocking to the tiny town, enjoying the lovely scenery the little seaside town had to offer. Of course, not a one of the ignorant outsiders realized that the town was now under the rule of the mafia. They just went about their lives, without a care in the world.
Professor Leland G. Bardsley smiled to himself at the thought, even as he was arriving back at his home after teaching a summer seminar. It was interesting to see the contrast in how people treated him now: where the tourists were completely oblivious to his true nature, the locals were well aware of it. None of them dared say anything about it, but he could sense their fear of him as he passed them by. It was honestly rather satisfying, knowing the kind of power he had now.
"Welcome home, Leland," came a familiar voice.
Professor Bardsley glanced over to see Dr. Diana Pallada, the ghost who had taken up residence in his home ever since that incident six months ago. He was glad to see her—she was someone who shared his love of research, as well as his unusual outlook on life. She was someone who understood him quite well, and someone he felt comfortable being around.
"Hello, Diana," he replied with a smile. "I'm sorry I'm a bit late. I had to take care of some... business, along the way."
"Oh, no, that's quite alright. I understand perfectly," Diana remarked. "You are a busy man with a respectable career, as well as a member of the mafia that rules over this town, so it is only reasonable to assume that such things would demand much of your time, even on occasion without prior planning."
Professor Bardsley chuckled at this, setting down his briefcase. "I've always appreciated your understanding."
"And I likewise." Diana smiled, moving closer to him. "I still remember the day we first met, during the mafia takeover of this town. That was a memorable occasion indeed, especially with all the research we were able to make from the whole incident. It's amusing how they still try to fight back, even to this day." She laughed. "You know, it's been exactly six months since that day."
"Oh, has it?" Professor Bardsley asked. "I didn't know you were keeping track."
"Of course. I revel in each day since my escape from the void; it's simply convenient that it happens to coincide with the day we met. It's a very pleasant coincidence, though." She delicately placed a ghostly hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. "If I were one to believe in fate, I might say that it was, in fact, intended for us to come together like this."
Professor Bardsley paused. A ghost's touch was not like that of a living being—Diana's hand felt simultaneously fiery and ice cold. Most people would describe the sensation as unpleasant, but Professor Bardsley was used to it by now, and found its familiarity rather comforting in its own way. Something about her touch right now, though, felt... different.
"It really is wonderful how we found each other, though," Diana continued. "We understand each other so well, and together we make such incredible research. We make an excellent team, as has been proven time and time again in our overpowering of the Resistance... not that they have any chance of defeating the mafia, but the point still stands. However, I also believe our relationship is much more than that. So much more."
"I..." Professor Bardsley felt his face grow warm as Diana moved her hand to his tie, loosening it a bit. "What are you—"
"Throughout the ages, many important historical events have been remembered and celebrated on the anniversary of their occurrence. Typically such celebrations are an annual event, but I think six months is a fairly significant landmark, as well." Diana leaned in closer, putting her other hand to the Professor's luscious brown hair. "I've been practicing interacting with tangible objects for the occasion... so I could do this."
And then she kissed him, right on the lips. Professor Bardsley was surprised at first, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions flowing through him—emotions he had never felt before. They were powerful, almost debilitating emotions. But... not in a bad way, admittedly.
And then, before he fully realized what was happening, he was kissing her back.
---
Finally. Finally! After all the effort it took to get there, Julie was excited to finally make it to Aifam Cove, where her friend Diana was apparently staying. After all this time, after everything that had happened, she would finally get to see Diana again. She'd been looking forward to this ever since she got that letter, and now it was finally happening.
Julie ignored the strange looks the people on the street gave her as she made her way to Boulder Pointe Street, double checking to make sure she had the right address. This was supposed to be the house Diana was staying at now. She just hoped her sources were right...
She was about to knock on the door when she caught a glimpse of someone through the front window. If she still had a heart, it would have skipped a beat. It was Diana! She didn't have her revenant red color anymore, but it was definitely Diana, and she was... wait.
What was she— who was that guy she— why was she— what?
...Well, this was a new development.
Julie just stared dumbfounded for a moment, before finally thinking to knock on the door. This startled the couple out of their passionate kiss, the man in particular turning beet red, and both of them turned to look at her through the window. Within moments, Diana came to open the door as the man struggled to regain his composure.
"Julie! It is good to see you again," Diana said as the door swung open. "When you didn't reply to my letter, I was worried that perhaps something had happened to you, or that the letter got lost in the mail somewhere along the way. But I am relieved to see that you are alright and that the letter arrived to you safely."
"Yeah, sorry I took so long. There were some... complications," Julie explained. "So, uh, who's...?"
"Oh, yes, I suppose some proper introductions are in order." Diana smiled, turning to the flustered man. "Leland, this is Julie Merlot, one of my former associates, as well as a good friend of mine."
"Charmed," Leland mumbled, awkwardly fixing his tie.
"Julie, this is Professor Leland Bardsley," Diana continued. "He is a fellow scholar with a brilliant mind and a love of research similar to my own. We've already made so many excellent studies together, and I suspect we will continue to make many more in the future."
Julie raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I can tell."
Diana laughed, as Professor Bardsley blushed furiously. "What can I say?" Diana said. "We're more than just business associates; we understand each other on a personal level, in a way that no one else ever has before. It's really quite satisfying in a number of ways. At any rate, you should come inside. We have much to discuss."
"...We sure do," Julie agreed, following her inside. Already, she had a lot of questions. |
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Post by PFA on May 23, 2014 13:06:42 GMT -5
UGH this story is finally done! I started writing this one first, and finished it like... last. XD;; Okay, this one definitely needs a bit of explanation. Basically, by COMPLETE COINCIDENCE, Bardsley's big reveal happened to occur at around the same time as I was unveiling the Big Bad of my Icy Taco story, Icy Taco Ace Attorneys. Which also happened to be just a few weeks after the reveal of a character named Karasu in my webcomic, Aiiro No Kunoichi. And like, they're all similar character types, so I was just like "I SWEAR THIS ISN'T INTENTIONAL 8D;;" So then I randomly decided to have their 2 ½ worlds collide and find out what would happen if they all met! 8D This is probably not canon at all, but I wrote this as happening before the events in Mafia and ITAA, which was the best way I could come up with to get around timeline wonkiness. That said, it does still contain Mafia and ITAA spoilers, and I guess Aiiro spoilers to a lesser degree. >_> I tried to write it so it makes sense without needing to specifically read all the things, but idk how well I did. (Looking at you, Mr. mysterious ITAA Big Bad.) BUT WHATEVER here it is: A Doomed EncounterThe seats in the lecture hall filled up slowly, everyone chattering amongst themselves while waiting for the presentation to start. According to the fliers, Principal Verity had invited a prestigious professor from out of town to do a lecture on cultural anthropology. The fliers boasted a very impressive set of credentials for the man, clearly indicating that he was an expert in his chosen field.
It was an admittedly unusual occurrence, one that attracted a lot of attention. Students were encouraged to invite friends from other schools, and several of them had. Before long, the room was packed with eager young anthropologists, hoping to learn much from the reputable professor.
Not to mention it was a really good way to keep their minds off the unsettling rumors of a Japanese criminal gang having settled into town.
Really, the whole thing was doomed from the start.
---
Professor Leland G. Bardsley sat in his car outside the lecture hall, going over his notes one last time before giving his presentation. He smiled to himself, satisfied with his work. Yes, it looked like everything was in order. This was sure to go over well with the students.
He put the papers back in his briefcase, which also contained some books and other supplies he would need for the lecture. He adjusted his glasses, glancing at his rear view mirror to ascertain that his short, silky brown hair was still perfectly groomed. With everything in order, he smiled, hefting up the briefcase and opening the door.
"Hello."
Professor Bardsley raised an eyebrow, looking up toward the source of the voice. He was immediately greeted by two Japanese men, who seemed to have been waiting for him outside of his car. He blinked in surprise. That was... unusual.
"Hello," he said to them. "May I help you?"
"Yes, yes," came the heavily accented reply. "You help us."
Professor Bardsley frowned, glancing down at the speaker's hand. He was holding a knife.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned them.
"We have orders," the man replied. "You will die."
With that, the man lunged, thrusting the knife toward Professor Bardlsey. Much to his surprise, however, the professor was able to stop the attack, grabbing onto his attacker's wrist with a surprisingly firm grip. The man's eyes widened, noticing that the professor was looking at him with a sinister smile.
"I'm sorry to disappoint," Professor Bardsley said simply, green eyes glinting dangerously, "but I believe you're sorely mistaken."
Professor Bardsley launched a sharp kick at his attacker, knocking the man to the ground. Before either of the other men could react, the professor had reached into his glove compartment, pulling out a prized possession of his...
BANG!
"Daisuke!" one of the men cried, watching in horror as his partner went limp, shirt stained with blood. He looked up at their intended victim, and instead saw a coldblooded killer—a smoking pistol in his hand, and a murderous grin on his face.
Japanese curse words went through his mind as he fled the scene, fumbling for his radio.
"<Boss! There's trouble!>" he hissed into said radio, in Japanese. "<The target, he's—>"
BANG!
The man collapsed, his blood pooling out onto the concrete beneath him.
---
The message came through loud and clear. The man known simply as Karasu listened to the static coming through his radio, a scowl crossing his face.
<It seems the teacher is more dangerous than he appears,> he thought to himself. <I suppose this calls for a change of approach...>
He turned off the radio, standing up and walking wordlessly out of the room.
---
Professor Bardsley gazed down musingly at the bodies of his attackers. On the one hand, it was quite satisfying watching those thugs face the consequences of messing with Leland Bardsley, Chill of the Night. On the other hand, the whole ordeal left quite a mess behind. He really didn't have the time to take away the bodies, and wash off the blood that would likely get on his clothing in doing so, all before the lecture was meant to start. Oh, what to do...
And then, suddenly, the sound of someone clapping. "Bravo, professor. Bravo."
Professor Bardsley jumped, whirling around to face the newcomer. The man he saw was a middle-aged man with graying blond hair and a receding hairline, but he still maintained a professional appearance and a youthful spirit. It was Principal Verity, the man who had invited him here... someone Professor Bardsley did not want to see so shortly after this unfortunate altercation. No one was supposed to know of his criminal background; how was he supposed to explain this?
Before he could stammer out a response, however, he realized something: Principal Verity was smiling.
"Very well played," Principal Verity continued, striding confidently toward the confused professor. At that point, it was easier to notice that the voice was different than the one he'd heard on the phone. "You truly are an expert in your business, I can tell."
At first, Professor Bardsley was silent. And then, it clicked. "...You're not Principal Verity, are you?"
"Oh no, I'm not," the man who looked exactly like Principal Verity told him. "However, I am the one who called you here."
Professor Bardsley raised an eyebrow, not entirely certain how to respond to this. "Who... exactly are you, then?"
"If I told you my true identity, you would not believe me," was the response. "However, if you need a name to refer to me by, you may call me 'the Master.'"
"If you expect me to offer my servitude, you're sorely mistaken," Professor Bardsley told him.
The Master laughed at this. "Ah, we shall see. For now, we have much to discuss."
"What about the—"
"You called me to inform me that you may arrive a few minutes late. I have already told the students." The Master smiled, opening the passenger door to Bardsley's car. "For privacy."
Professor Bardsley frowned, suspicious of this strange man. Why did he want to speak with him? How much did he know? Was this some sort of trap? However, the man seemed very insistent, and didn't appear to be armed... ultimately, curiosity got the better of the professor. He climbed back into the car, closing the door behind him. The Master did likewise.
"Who are you and what do you want from me?" Professor Bardsley immediately questioned.
"One moment." The Master placed his hand to the door, focussing. Suddenly, a grating, unnatural static-like noise echoed through the air, as a red light enveloped the car. But not for long—within seconds, the light and noise had both faded.
Professor Bardsley was stunned. "Wh-what did you—"
"A sound barrier. To ensure that no one outside will be able to hear us," the Master explained, giving a pleased but sinister smile. "As for your question, I believe I have use of your... unique talents."
"What do you mean?"
"First off, you should know that I know everything about you," the Master told him.
Professor Bardsley scoffed. "You couldn't possibly."
"Let's see now." The Master scanned Professor Bardsley with an analytical gaze. "Your full name is Leland Graham Bardsley. You teach cultural anthropology at the so-called 'Prettyboy College,' in the small seaside village of Aifam Cove. You act like a perfect gentleman in public, but inwardly you have no regard for other human beings at all. Thus your membership in the Chill of the Night, one of the two mafias operating secretly in Aifam Cove. Your crimes as of yet have mostly been inconsequential acts of vandalism, however—"
"Are you a detective?" Professor Bardsley spat, clutching his pistol in warning. "Because I don't take kindly to detectives."
"Haha, no. I'm just an excellent judge of character... and very observant." The Master smirked in an almost condescending fashion, irritating the professor to no end. The Master then continued, asking him, "Are you aware of the depths of your own madness, Leland? I am. It's very easy to tell."
Professor Bardsley was severely taken aback by this. What did he mean, it was easy to tell?! No one was supposed to know about that! He bit back his urge to protest, though, knowing it would only make it worse.
"What..." he said instead, "what are you talking about?"
"Oh, you do an excellent job of hiding it. You'd be pleased to know that society as a whole has complete trust in you," the Master told him. "I, however, am an expert on disguises. I know a ruse when I see one, and I can see what you're trying to hide: a cold, heartless madman, putting on quite the show to avoid being caught. After all, that is the only thing you truly fear, isn't it?"
"No," Professor Bardsley snapped, before attempting to regain his composure. "I-I mean... you're bluffing."
The Master just smiled. "Of course, despite the ruse, you had legitimate reasons for becoming an anthropologist. People are so fascinating to you, aren't they, professor? Observing the inner workings of a society so far removed from your own perspective... you're an observer." He chuckled. "Although not as seasoned of one as myself, obviously."
As best as he tried, Professor Bardsley was not able to come up with a proper response to this. This man... how could this man possibly know all of this? Everything he had said was completely accurate, even the things that Bardsley himself would never admit, even to himself. It was as though this mysterious Master could peer into the depths of his soul, and unearth all of his deepest, darkest secrets. But... that was impossible.
"Impressed? As I said before, I am an excellent judge of character. It comes from many years of experience," the Master explained, smiling in amusement at the professor's discomfort. "Surely you're wondering how I did it. Well... I called you here to make an offer."
Professor Bardsley raised an eyebrow at this. "An... offer?"
"I can offer you power beyond your wildest imaginations, professor," the Master claimed. "With my help, you could understand the minds of others so much more than you do now. Your ability to do research would be unmatched; you could easily become the greatest anthropologist this world and many others have ever known. All I ask in return..." He smiled viciously. "...Is your aid."
Professor Bardsley was silent at first. And then, "What sort of aid?"
"Much like you, I am a man dedicated to studying people," the Master said. "I am a master of disguises, and as such, I must have a perfect understanding of those I imitate. I collect a lot of information, and I could use an observant individual such as yourself to help me with such an endeavor. What do you say?"
Professor Bardsley considered this for a moment. "It's... an appealing offer," he eventually admitted. "However, if you are telling the truth, I must ask—surely you don't collect this information all by yourself?"
"Hm, yes, you are observant." The Master chuckled. "I have many associates, all of them brilliant minds such as yourself."
"So there is an organization of some sort," Professor Bardsley concluded. "Judging from what you've told me, I assume that would make you the head of some sort of criminal organization?"
"That is correct."
"So you wish me to join your organization, then." Professor Bardsley gave a wry smile. "I'm very flattered, but I'm loyal to my own. I see no reason to change sides."
"Interesting," the Master remarked, looking at Bardsley with amused eyes. "You have full trust in your own associates, then? Even dear Alma Fitzgibbon?"
A pause. Not only did this man know about him, but he also knew about Alma? How much did he know? After some thought, however, Professor Bardsley shook his head. "If you truly knew everything about me, you should know that I'm not at all worried about Mrs. Fitzgibbon."
"Oh, but she's not the only one I would worry about," the Master pointed out. "Lindsey Lukas cares deeply for her twin brother, Nathan... which could cause some serious conflicts if you're not careful. And of course, there's the mysterious Hermia Smith... do you have any idea what she hides behind her quiet demeanor?"
Professor Bardsley tensed. This man knew the names of all of his associates. How thorough was his research? Also, why was he trying to make him doubt his associates in the first place? Was this a trick?
"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but it's not going to work," Professor Bardsley insisted. "I'm afraid I've made up my mind."
"Well, if you're certain, then." The Master shrugged lightheartedly. "If you wish to remain in the Chill of the Night, I shall respect your loyalty. That said, of course, there is another option—an alliance."
Professor Bardsley blinked. "An alliance?"
"Our people could work together," the Master explained. "If you help us with our research, we could just as easily help the Chill of the Night with their goals. What would you say if we could have your enemies... permanently eliminated?"
"Permanently?" Professor Bardsley wondered.
"I suspect someday soon you will learn that death does not always silence a person," the Master told him. "I know you have a distaste for that, and, well... I have a way to fix that little problem."
Professor Bardsley wasn't sure what to make of this. How could death not silence a person? No one ever came back from the dead; that much he was certain of. Perhaps he was speaking of... tying up loose ends? If this man truly had an encyclopedic knowledge of every individual, surely that would be beneficial to pinpointing such things...
"...I'll have to bring it up with the others," he eventually decided.
"Hm, yes, of course," was the Master's thoughtful response. "That may be for the best, even with Hermia. I wonder..."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Never you mind." The Master smiled mysteriously. "Thank you for your time, professor. I should let you get to your presentation."
"Hm? Ah, yes." Professor Bardsley straightened. "So we are actually doing that, then?"
"Yes, yes, of course." The Master laughed. He then placed a hand on the car door again, and all at once, the red glow from before came back, accompanied by the unnatural noise. This time, however, instead of enveloping the car, the red light was absorbed into the Master's hand.
"What is that, anyway?" Professor Bardsley had to ask, as the noise again faded.
"Just a small taste of my power," the Master replied ambiguously, opening the car door again. "I'll be sure to clean up after your little... encounter. Speaking of which, you may want to hurry to the lecture hall. I imagine Karasu isn't very happy about what you've done to his underlings."
Professor Bardsley raised an eyebrow. "Karasu?"
"The leader of the Akumu Gang, who those thugs you fought with were a part of," the Master explained. "I suspect he will be here shortly, after what has happened... but he would not attack you during the presentation. That would be too crowded for him, as he prefers to remain in the shadows. However, if he doesn't strike before the presentation, he may strike after... perhaps you should bring that pistol of yours, just in case."
"...Are you suggesting I bring a firearm into a school?" Professor Bardsley questioned. "If I were caught, I would be severely punished. It's far too risky."
"Hm, yes, true," the Master admitted. "It's a shame you don't have elemental powers... perhaps I will have to accompany you, then."
Professor Bardsley frowned. He didn't particularly like the thought of having an escort, particularly one he didn't trust. And what on earth did he mean by "elemental powers"? The man did seem to possess some sort of unusual abilities, and had an unusual air about him...
He didn't trust this man at all. Considering the circumstances, though, he may not have had much of a choice.
"...Fine," he finally relented, letting out a sigh. "You will need to show me to the lecture hall, 'Principal Verity.'"
The Master laughed. "Of course, of course. First, though... some quick business."
Before Professor Bardsley could question what that meant, the Master climbed out of the car, closing the door behind him. He walked around the car, stopping beside the bodies of the fallen Akumu Gang members. Smiling down at them, he waved his hand, and... what appeared to be a glowing red portal appeared beside him. He carefully hefted the bodies into the portal, careful not to get any blood on himself in the process. As soon as his task was finished, the portal vanished, just as quickly as it appeared.
"That should do nicely," the Master remarked. He cleared his throat, turning to Professor Bardsley before speaking again—this time in a voice more recognizable as Principal Verity's. "Are you ready, professor?"
Though he was very perplexed by what he had just witnessed, though he was uncertain what exactly was going on, Professor Bardsley sighed, stashing his pistol back in his glove compartment. He let his irritation with the phony principal fade into his usual relaxed demeanor, smiling calmly as he climbed out of the car.
"Yes, quite."
---
The presentation went well, thankfully without interruption. Some of the students seemed a little nervous, after hearing what they thought were gunshots coming from outside the lecture hall, but Principal Verity assured them that there was nothing to worry about. They weren't sure whether or not to believe him, but stayed quiet regardless.
It wasn't until after the presentation that things went wrong.
Professor Bardsley was shaking hands with the students when Principal Verity approached him, cheerfully clapping him on the shoulder. The professor tried not to grimace as the principal remarked, "An excellent performance, professor! It was quite riveting."
"Ah... yes, thank you," Professor Bardsley replied, forcing a smile. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"Oh, I did. It was very well executed," Principal Verity continued, smiling back at him. "Now then, I hate to rush you, but we really should be leaving the lecture hall now. There's a meeting scheduled here shortly, and I wouldn't want to be in the way."
"Yes, of course. I've got a long drive home." Professor Bardsley waved politely to the student he'd been talking with, before heading toward the exit.
Much to his chagrin, Principal Verity decided to follow after him. "Really though, I am very impressed with your work, Professor Bardsley. Have you ever considered publishing a book?"
"I'm not sure I'm much of a writer," Professor Bardsley told him, pushing open the door and stepping outside. "I've always been more of the public speaking type."
"Perhaps you could find a ghost writer?" Principal Verity suggested. "I think it would be quite worth it. You have a lot of knowledge to share, I can tell."
Professor Bardsley gave a small chuckle. "Do I, now? I'm flattered."
"Oh yes, of course." Principal Verity paused, looking around at his surroundings. Students were flooding out of the lecture hall, creating a large crowd of people around him and the professor. But there was someone in particular he was looking for...
Ah yes, there he was. Just as he expected.
In a voice distinctly not belonging to Principal Verity, the man whispered to Bardsley, "You'll thank me for this."
Professor Bardsley raised an eyebrow. "Wh—"
Without any further warning, Principal Verity shoved him away, almost knocking the professor to the ground. Before Bardsley could properly react, though, a gunshot echoed through the air, a bullet whizzing right past him. Someone nearby shrieked, as Principal Verity looked around frantically, pretending to search for the attacker.
The sniper on the roof grumbled under his breath in Japanese, taking aim for another shot. Much to his surprise, though, just before he could pull the trigger, the gun started to glow with a mysterious red light, inexplicably causing the gun to jam and not fire at all. His eyes went wide. What was happening?
"Up there!" Principal Verity shouted, pointing to the sniper. "It came from up there!"
...Uh-oh.
The sniper threw down the rifle, hurrying off as the crowd of onlookers shouted after him, calling for the police. Principal Verity immediately sprinted after him, some of the onlookers following suit, as others fled for their lives. This left Professor Bardsley by himself, scowling in thought. What exactly was going on here?
These thoughts were interrupted again when someone grabbed Professor Bardsley from behind, pulling him into the alley while everyone was distracted.
"You are a very strange man, professor," his captor hissed. Professor Bardsley couldn't get a good look at the man, but he notably had a deep, Japanese-accented voice. "How is it you keep managing to evade us like this?"
Professor Bardsley tried to struggle free, but the man's grip was firm. He scowled darkly at his captor. "Karasu, I assume?"
The man seemed surprised by this. "You've heard of me?"
"Only vaguely," was Professor Bardsley's response. "Who are you, exactly, and why are you so desperate to have me killed?"
"Oh, it's nothing against you personally," Karasu told him. "I simply wish to make a statement, but you keep interfering. It's quite bothersome, you know."
Professor Bardsley was intrigued by this response. "Oh? And what sort of statement does killing me make?"
"That the ones society chooses to respect are weak and powerless, mainly," Karasu explained. "That they too can die just as easily as everyone else, rendering life meaningless."
"Interesting. I expected you to say you were hoping to insight fear in the populace, or something similar," Professor Bardsley remarked. "So you use violence to convey your own personal beliefs, then?"
Karasu paused. "...Excuse me?"
"For each society, there are always those who refuse to conform to its ways," Professor Bardsley told him. "In your case, you seem to be a bit of a nihilist—put simply, you believe that life has no purpose, allowing you to reject the moral standards set in place by society or religion. I must say, I've always found such things a fascinating topic of study."
"You think about your studies even now, when your life is in danger?" Karasu questioned. "You really are a strange man."
Professor Bardsley gave a hollow smirk. "Strange? Perhaps. But either way, I do believe you've made some false assumptions about me."
"Oh? How so?"
In the moment that Karasu was distracted, Professor Bardsley managed to break free from his grasp, managing to elbow his captor right in the face. This caused Karasu to stumble backward long enough for Bardsley to break away, then whirl around and kick the man to the ground.
"First off, I am not weak nor powerless by any means," Professor Bardsley told him, a twisted smile on his face. "And I certainly do not die easily."
Karasu scowled, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. Finally, Professor Bardsley could get a better look at him: a man of obvious Asian descent, decked out in a simple but classy black outfit. To complete the ensemble, he also had a thin mustache that hanged down in front of his face.
"Nn... very clever of you," he muttered, climbing back to his feet. "However, I should warn you that I'm trained in several forms of unarmed comba—"
"Now now, children, settle down."
Professor Bardsley bristled at the voice, while Karasu looked rather perplexed. Both of them looked to see that the man pretending to be Principal Verity had come up behind them, an amused smile on his face. More interestingly, the entrance to the alleyway now seemed to be blocked off by a faint, shimmery red wall.
"Who dares call me a child?" Karasu questioned, scowling at the man.
"Haha. I assure you, it's justified: I'm much older than I look," the man who called himself 'the Master' replied ambiguously. He smiled, striding past Bardsley and over to Karasu. "Which isn't to say I don't respect your line of work, Mr. Karasu. I've heard so much about you; it is a delight to finally meet you."
Karasu raised an eyebrow as the Master took him by the hand, giving a friendly handshake. What kind of idiot was foolish enough to shake hands with a known crime lord? Who was this man, even, and why did he know his name?
"I didn't think I was well-known outside of Japan, and yet you're the second to call me by name," Karasu remarked.
"Oh, you're not. I just happen to have done my research." The Master smirked, looking at his hand thoughtful amusement. He noticed immediately that some of the blood Karasu had wiped from his face had transferred to his own hand. He pulled out a handkerchief, chuckling to himself as he wiped his hands clean. "It should be interesting, finding out who you really are."
"...What?"
The Master snapped his fingers, and the handkerchief vanished in a flash of red light, accompanied by a brief, unnatural crackling noise. "We shall see."
Karasu's eyes widened, and he took a startled step backward. "What did you—"
"At any rate, I felt I should warn you that it may not be in your best interests to have this man killed," the Master said, gesturing to Professor Bardsley. "He may not look it, but he is a member of—"
"Don't you dare," Professor Bardsley growled, eyes narrowed at the man.
The Master smirked. "Well, put simply, he is more dangerous than he looks. He has allies who would take notice to his death... and I don't think that's the sort of attention you want to draw to yourself."
Karasu was silent, looking over at Professor Bardsley. In the pictures, the professor always seemed so calm and professional, but right now, he looked downright furious. The man he'd expected to be an easy target had refused to die, fighting back every step of the way. He'd even apparently brought a firearm with him, something he did not expect. At first he thought it was just for self defense, but then again...
He then shifted his attention to the principal. His attitude, his demeanor... even his voice were not what Karasu would have expected from the aging man. He looked sinister and calculating, speaking cryptically about things about things he shouldn't logically know anything about. There was also a strange sensation about him, almost a supernatural sense of untold power. Come to think of it, what exactly had he done with that handkerchief? Why was this man even here? What did he want?
"...Very well," Karasu said eventually. "If what you say is true, this man will be spared for now." Turning to Bardsley, he added, "I assume, of course, that the professor will do likewise, and inflict no further harm on us."
Professor Bardsley snorted. "Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours?"
Karasu gave a dry laugh. "Precisely."
"I'm more than happy to agree to those terms," Professor Bardsley told him, "so long as we both agree to never speak of this incident ever again."
"You wish to maintain your cover, I assume?" Karasu asked.
Professor Bardsley's eyes narrowed. "Never. Speak of this. Again."
"Oh, don't worry, I understand perfectly," Karasu replied, waving a hand dismissively. "I can respect that a man of your apparent caliber would have some need for secrecy."
"Hm, yes." The Master smirked to himself in amusement, listening to the exchange. The other two men tensed slightly at his tone. Who was this strange man who knew too much? However, he quickly dismissed the topic. "Well then, I'm glad we could come to an agreement."
"As am I," Karasu agreed. "If that is all, then you should be on your way now."
"Gladly," Professor Bardsley said, turning on the spot and heading for his car.
"Oh, just one moment," the Master spoke up, snapping his fingers. There was a flash of red light, and the shimmery wall that was covering the exit dissipated. "There. Now you can go."
Professor Bardsley blinked, holding out a hand as if to touch the invisible wall that was no longer there. After a moment, he cautiously stepped forward, relieved to find that the way was clear. With that, he hurried on his way, content to spend no further time with these aggravating people.
"As for you, I have some questions," Karasu spoke again, before the Master could walk away. "Namely, who are you, and why do you know so much?"
The Master simply smiled mysteriously. "Me? Oh, I'm no one important. But I've studied people for a long time, and just happen to be very observant."
"No one important, hm?" Karasu questioned. "Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe."
"Difficult to believe, you say?" was the Master's response. "Like how your deeply personal grudge with the Aiiro No Ninja is difficult to believe?"
Karasu was silent, not sure how to respond to that. It was no surprise that the man would know about the Aiiro No Ninja if he knew about Karasu—the Aiiro No Ninja was a well-known vigilante warrior in Japan, seeking to put a stop to criminals who think they're above the law. Karasu completely despised him, of course. But what was so hard to understand about that?
"I've read the reports," the Master explained. "From your very first quarrel with him, you despised the Aiiro No Ninja, treating him like an archenemy. But no one knows why, not even Makoto himself." He gazed at Karasu with analyzing eyes. "Which must mean it's something... personal. Something in your past, perhaps?"
"I don't see how that's any of your business," Karasu remarked.
"Oh, but collecting information is my business." The Master chuckled. "But no matter. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough."
Karasu frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
"Farewell, Karasu," the Master said, ignoring his question. "Perhaps someday we shall meet again."
And with that, the Master strode off. Karasu just watched silently, waiting for him to fade out of sight before disappearing back into the shadows.
---
No one was really sure what to make of what had happened. According to the reports, the Japanese criminal gang had made an attempt on Professor Bardsley's life, but vanished just as quickly and mysteriously as they came immediately afterward. Apparently they never caught up with the sniper, and there was no word on whether there were any other goons around.
Professor Bardsley himself seemed a bit irritable, but otherwise took the incident in stride. Principal Verity, however, was apparently a bit shaken, expressing guilt that he had been indirectly responsible for bringing the professor right where the criminals could target him. Apparently, it led to him waking up sometime later with a massive hangover, and no recollection whatsoever of the incident. The school staff found this... concerning, encouraging to get psychiatric help.
But even the psychiatrists couldn't fully explain the large gap in Principal Verity's memory. He claimed that his memory went fuzzy just as he was preparing for the presentation, and then completely blank until he woke up again later. In fact, he was genuinely surprised when they told him of the incident; he legitimately had no recollection of it at all. Hangover amnesia wasn't usually that thorough.
Probably most concerning of all, though, was the fact that Principal Verity started having nightmares of being possessed by demons... |
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Post by PFA on Jun 12, 2014 18:31:48 GMT -5
(obligatory link to the Random Scene and collab fic) casually posts another fanfic, this one featuring Birdy's characters hm (also Nathan and Pallada so Nova and Celestial #late tags are still tags) Therapy"Ugh, where is Hermia?" complained Nathan Lukas, as he fidgeted impatiently. "We were supposed to meet her here."
Professor Bardsley sighed, pulling up his sleeve a bit to look at his watch. It wasn't unusual for Hermia Smith to show up a little late, but she was never this late. Whatever was taking her so long?
"I think I'd better go see what's keeping her," Professor Bardsley decided, pocketing his pistol before striding out of the alleyway. Surely Hermia knew by now that it was not a good idea to keep the mafia waiting. And if not, well... perhaps what she needed was a reminder.
---
Hermia had not planned to be late. She really hadn't. But sometimes, things would come up unexpectedly.
She was actually on her way to the alley where the others were waiting, when he noticed her. He was a man she had become very acquainted with recently: Doctor Berger Archambault, the therapist. She'd been in his office several times ever since her big breakdown, but this time, she just happened to run into him on the street.
Boy, did he ever pick an ironic time to show up.
"Hermia?" he called out to her, approaching her.
"Oh. Uh, hi, doctor," she replied awkwardly, adjusting the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. "Fancy seeing you here."
"I was just on my way to the store," he told her simply. "What about you? How are you doing?"
"I'm, um... fine," Hermia said. "I was just... uh..."
Dr. Archambault noticed Hermia's hands clench nervously around her bag strap. He frowned. "...Business?"
"I have to," she told him. "Even if I tried to say no, they... th-they wouldn't let me. Do you know what they said they'd do to Alma if she left?"
"You shouldn't let them control you," Dr. Archambault told her. "Don't let them make you do anything you're not comfortable with."
"It's not that bad," Hermia insisted. "It's just a check-in. No one will be hurt. It's not like... like..."
Dr. Archambault's frown deepened. "...Would you like to talk about it?"
"I... I don't know." Hermia glanced in the direction of the alleyway where Nathan and Bardsley were supposed to be waiting for her. "I really shouldn't..."
"Well, just remember you have an appointment on Wednesday," he said. "And if you ever want to make another appointment, just let me know."
At first, Hermia was silent. And then, "...Do you really think I could stand up to them? Say no?"
"What do you think?" he asked her.
Hermia sighed. "Well..."
As she started talking, she found that the words flowed from her mouth almost automatically, something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately. She wasn't even conscious of just how much time had passed since she started talking, just continuing on and completely forgetting about the mafia meeting she was missing.
At least, until Leland G. Bardsley showed up on the scene.
"There you are," he remarked, sounding a little irritable. "You were supposed to meet us nearly fifteen minutes ago."
"Oh! Uh, sorry, I, um..." Hermia trailed off awkwardly, looking between Bardsley and Dr. Archambault. The two of them had noticed each other by now, and were now giving each other odd looks. It occurred to her at that point that she had never specifically mentioned her therapy sessions to Bardsley—she knew he wouldn't be very, um, understanding—but she might have mentioned Bardsley once or twice by name in her sessions with Dr. Archambault.
Well, this was going to be awkward.
"Who is this man with you, Ms. Smith?" Professor Bardsley asked, only serving to make the tension worse. Well, it was now or never.
"R-right. Professor, this is, uh... this is Dr. Archambault." Hermia swallowed. "...My therapist."
"Your..." Professor Bardsley frowned. "...Your therapist."
"Yes," Hermia replied simply, bracing herself for the worst. The sociopathic professor would probably scold her for her weakness, maybe even laugh at her for daring to have emotions that she couldn't even control. She'd been around the man long enough that she could predict his horribleness pretty well.
"That's... that's nice," came Bardsley's unusually tentative response. Hermia blinked in confusion. That didn't sound like scolding, and it certainly didn't sound like laughing. What was that? "Now I hate to interrupt," he continued, "but we really should get going..."
"I'm sorry to interrupt your business, sir," Dr. Archambault spoke up. "Professor Bardsley, I'm assuming?"
Professor Bardsley was surprised by this. "You've... heard of me?"
"Of course I have. You're fairly well-known around here, you know," Dr. Archambault told him, looking over at the professor analytically.
"Ah... yes, of course." Professor Bardsley chuckled vaguely, adjusting his glasses. "That is true, isn't it..."
"Yes, it is." Dr. Archambault raised an eyebrow. "...Is something the matter? You seem nervous."
"Nervous? Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm not nervous," Professor Bardsley insisted, before grabbing Hermia by the arm and pulling her away. "I'm sorry, but we really should be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"Uh, y-yeah," Hermia stammered, waving weakly to Dr. Archambault. "See you Wednesday?"
"Yes, Wednesday," Dr. Archambault replied, waving back at her. Hermia thought she could see him sigh in disappointment as he faded out of sight.
"Come on," came Professor Bardsley's voice, as he finally let go of her arm and let her follow him of her own free will (or however much free will could be involved when dealing with mafiosos, at any rate). "Nathan is waiting for us."
Hermia frowned, rubbing her aching arm. The professor had a strong grip. "So, uh... what was that about?"
"Whatever are you talking about?" was Bardsley's reply, of course.
"As soon as I said that Dr. Archambault was my therapist, you got all... antsy," Hermia told him.
"I did not," Professor Bardsley replied defiantly. "You're lying."
A pause. "Are... are you afraid of therapists?"
"What? Don't be ridiculous." Professor Bardsley laughed at the thought. "I'm a sociopath, you know. I fear nothing."
"Except for talking to a therapist?" Hermia questioned.
"Nathan!" Professor Bardsley called out as they approached the alleyway, completely ignoring Hermia's question. Hermia frowned at this. "I found her."
"Finally," Nathan replied, turning to look at them as they approached. "Come on, we've got work to do."
At this, Professor Bardsley's previous nervousness faded away, replaced by a smirk. "Indeed we do."
Hermia adjusted her bag with a sigh. "...Let's get it over with."
And so the three of them stalked off, never speaking another word of the incident with Dr. Archambault.
---
After finishing their "business," the mafiosos parted ways, returning to their respective homes. Professor Bardsley, as he opened the door and stepped inside, pondered to himself over what had happened. Over that... psychologist. There were psychologists in town now? How long had they been here? How much did they know about him?
He was a sociopath, that much he was certain of. A man incapable of any true sense of empathy for another person. He knew full well that a psychologist would call him mad, most likely try to do the impossible and have him "fixed." But no psychologist was going to tell Leland Bardsley how to think. What did those self-righteous idiots know about being normal, anyway?
"Welcome home, Leland," came a voice, distracting him from his thoughts. It was the voice of Diana Pallada, the ghost who had taken up residence in his home ever since that incident with Richem. "I assume it went well?" She laughed. "But of course, I'm certain that it did, with a capable man such as yourself at the head of it. You are a brilliant and talented individual, and I know that your work is always exquisite."
Professor Bardsley smiled at her. Diana... now there was a woman who understood him well. She was a fellow sociopath, and had already taught him more about himself than any psychologist could ever hope to. She too knew about how fascinating it was to watch society crumble. How amusing it was to see fools beg in vain for mercy. It was the type of joy that only a sociopath could understand.
As Diana had taught him, he was not mad. He was just... different. And he was happy that way.
"Yes," he finally told her. "It went well."
Professor Bardsley continued into the house, pushing aside his concerns about the psychologist and smiling pleasantly. He had no time for useless emotions—he was a sociopath. And that was never going to change, because he was happy that way.
No one would ever take his happiness away... |
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Post by PFA on Sept 12, 2014 13:44:22 GMT -5
Okay so I'm writing out Bardsley's backstory, and I intend to post the whole thing eventually, but I just want to get this little teaser out of the way because reasons. >_> <_< GET READY FOR A NEW WOOB 8DCarol BrideCarol Bride was bright, confident, and full of pep. She was well-liked for her outgoing personality, and constant enthusiasm for life. She was the type of girl who did what she wanted, and loved trying new things just for the challenge.
And then along came the girl's choice homecoming dance.
All through freshman year, she had eyes for him. That smart, shy boy, who was so very studious and oh so adorable. Those silky brown locks were to die for, and he had the most gorgeous smile. She didn't know him very well, she'd always been a little nervous to talk to him, but this time, she was determined to get over her nerves. She was going to ask that cute boy to the homecoming dance!
"Are you sure about this, Carol?" one of her friends asked her at lunch, peering over at the boy in question. "What if he says no?"
"What if he does? I mean, what's the worst that could happen?" Carol replied confidently. "I mean, if he says no, I can just ask someone else. And if he says yes, then I've got a date to the dance! It's worth a shot, right?"
"You're braver than me," her friend admitted. "Well, if you're really gonna go for it..."
"I'm going for it." Carol scooped up her lunch tray, taking a deep breath. "Wish me luck?"
"Good luck!"
With that, Carol made her way over to the table where the boy of her dreams was sitting. Despite her outward confidence, she could feel the butterflies dancing in her stomach as she approached him. But she was determined not to back down. She wasn't going to be that shy freshman girl anymore!
"Hey there!" she said, once she finally approached the table. Her dream boy looked up at her—oh 'Woo, he was so cute. "Is it okay if I sit here?"
"If you like," was his response. Carol beamed. Score! She eagerly sat down, taking a bite of her food to calm her nerves. This was no time to wuss out!
"So hey, I've seen you around school before," she started, totally casual. "Your name's Leland, right?"
"That's right," the boy, Leland, replied, staring back at her curiously. (So cute!) "You're... Carol?"
"Uh-huh!" Carol grinned, pleased that he knew her name. Now then, how was she going to go about this? She couldn't just leap right in; she had to take it slow! "So, uh, how's your day been?"
"It's been alright," Leland said with a shrug. "I was just thinking about all the homework I need to do."
"Ah, yeah, homework," Carol agreed, absently running a hand through her short, honey-blonde hair. "Crazy how they gave out so much homework already, huh?"
"Yes, I suppose so," Leland replied. "I don't particularly mind, though. I enjoy studying."
Carol giggled slightly at this response. So devoted to his studies, it was adorable. "So what classes are you in?"
"Uh, well, all the core classes, of course," he told her, adjusting his glasses awkwardly. "...But also Langean language, and psychology."
"Oh, yeah! I'm taking Langean, too, but I guess not the same period," Carol remarked. "Which teacher do you have?"
"Er, I forget the name... I'd have to check my schedule."
"Oh, no, that's okay, I was just curious." Carol could feel herself fidgeting in her seat. She should probably make some more small talk, get to know him a bit better, but... oh, she couldn't wait anymore! "So, um, do you have a date for the homecoming dance?"
Leland looked up at her in surprise, taken off-guard by the question. "I... do not."
"Well then." Carol grinned at him eagerly. "Would you like to go with me?"
Leland was silent at first, not sure how to respond. He had never been to a dance before, especially not with a date. He didn't even really know what it felt like to be in love. Of course, he barely knew this girl anyway, and from all accounts he shouldn't be in love with someone he didn't know... and asking him to the dance meant she just wanted to get to know him better, right? Who knows, maybe something would come of it. He figured it couldn't hurt to try.
So finally, just as Carol was starting to get nervous, he shrugged. "Alright. Why not?"
"You will?" Carol beamed, resisting the urge to squeal with delight. "It's a date, then!"
"Yes, I suppose it is." Leland smiled, returning his attention to his food. While he was distracted, Carol flashed a grin at her friend at the other table. She had a date with her dream boy.
Of course, at the time, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. |
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Post by PFA on Nov 1, 2014 17:46:30 GMT -5
I wrote a little kid Joffery! Prepare for FEELS 8D (And thanks Dan for letting me adopt Everett so these feels can be possible) My FatherThe Lord of House Jade was a busy man. There was always some political problem to address, some international relations to maintain, some budgets to balance... Lord Everett sighed, setting aside the document he had been working on and pulling out another. His work was never done.
"Father, father!" came a familiar voice, as a bright-eyed child bounded into the room. He was the spitting image of his father, save for the lighter hair color and the more cheerful disposition.
"Not now, Joffery," was Lord Everett's response. "I'm busy."
"But father," the child, Joffery, insisted, "I wrote you a song!"
Lord Everett paused, glancing back at his young son. Joffery gazed back at him with hopeful eyes and an eager smile, his small hands clutching to a page of crudely written lyrics. The boy loved to sing, always overflowing with a childlike optimism. Someday, when he was older, it wouldn't be good for him to be so carefree, but for now... he was just a child.
"Did you, now?" Everett finally said, turning his seat to face the boy.
"Yeah!" Joffery replied cheerfully, his grin broadening. "Listen!" He cleared his throat, and began to sing.
"My father is the best
He always knows what's right
Whenever I'm depressed
He makes me feel alright
"My father is the lord
He's super super wise
He leads us all toward
The bright and happy skies
"My father is my favorite
He's the very best, it's true
And just in case you forget:
Father, I love you!"
Everett was stunned into silence. The song was amateur, certainly, but not bad for a child. There was no denying that the boy had a talent for music. And to think that he would take the effort to compose such a heartfelt song just for him... it was actually quite touching.
"Do you like it?" Joffery asked, his eyes bright and eager.
"It..." Everett cleared his throat, regaining his composure. Despite his usual serious demeanor, a smile cracked at the corners of his mouth. "It's very nice, Joffery."
"Yay! I knew you'd like it!" Joffery skipped up to his father happily, handing him the lyrics page. "Here you go! You can keep it!"
"Oh, thank you," Everett replied, accepting the page carefully. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish my work."
"I bet it's real important, huh?" Joffery remarked proudly.
"Yes, it is. So run along now—perhaps you can play with your brother or something."
"Yeah! I will!" Joffery nodded enthusiastically, offering his father a quick hug. "Thanks, father!"
"Have fun now," Everett said, watching Joffery skip out of the room. He then sighed, returning his attention to his work, but pausing to glance at Joffery's lyrics page. It was sloppily written, but the fact that it was written at all spoke volumes. He was trying to be a scribe, just like his father.
Everett smiled, setting the page aside and continuing his work. The boy had the potential to be a great Lord of the House someday. |
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Post by PFA on Nov 15, 2014 2:17:55 GMT -5
I WILL NEVER STOP WRITING THE JADES. 8D This takes place shortly before the roleplay. Joffery the King"The king!" Lord Joffery Jade said, his eyes wide with optimism as he thought on the words. "I could be king!"
"I hope you realize how important of an opportunity this is, Joffery," spoke Lord Everett, patriarch of House Jade. "If you are successful in winning the princess' hand, it will put House Jade in a position of power, which means we could change the state of this kingdom for the better."
"Of course!" Joffery agreed, vainly patting down his silky brown hair as he thought on this. Joffery Jade, the king of Kyth! It had such a lovely sound to it, and it all hinged on him impressing the young queen-to-be. A dazzling grin crossed his face. That should be no problem; impressing fair maidens was what Lord Joffery, the Ace of Hearts, did best.
"You will have to make a good impression," Everett reminded him. "You will personally be representing House Jade, which means you must be on your absolute best behavior. Do you understand?"
"Of course I do, father," Joffery replied, lost in distant thoughts of himself on the throne. "I will be a perfect gentleman, and the perfect match for Princess... what's her name?"
"Destiney."
"The perfect match for Princess Destiney!" Joffery grinned, pacing with excitement. "Destiney... what a beautiful name! I must know everything about her! I need to compose the perfect song..."
"Joffery..." Everett groaned, massaging his temples. Again with the singing. Would Joffery ever gain the sense to know when singing was not appropriate? "This whole matter is very important. If you're going to be the king of Kyth, you cannot—"
"The king of Kyth?" came another voice, and instantly Everett's headache became worse. He glanced over to see a familiar black-haired teen march into the room, looking somewhat horrified. "What do you mean, 'the king of Kyth'?"
"King Starmey has passed away, and his daughter Destiney is next in line for the throne," Everett explained with a sigh. "Princess Destiney will need a suitor, and if she picks Joffery, it will put House Jade in a position of power."
"Destiney, my Destiney!" Joffery sung to himself, lost in his own thoughts. "How shall I win thy heart~?"
"But father, you—" The boy paused, glancing back to see that Joffery wasn't paying attention. Then, in a hushed voice, he continued. "Are you sure it's a good idea to put Joffery in charge of the kingdom?"
Everett frowned. His second son, Reynold. He was a good boy, intelligent and well-behaved... but unfortunately, he was well aware of it, leaving him arrogant and often condescending of his whimsical older brother. Reynold was convinced that he would make a better ruler than Joffery, never letting anyone hear the end of it, so naturally this development would catch his attention.
"Joffery, why don't you go get prepared for the trip?" Everett insisted, dismissing him with a hand wave. "I have some things to discuss with your brother."
"Ah! Yes, of course," Joffery replied with a nod, turning and walking out the door while merrily humming a tune to himself.
Reynold waited until he was sure Joffery was out of earshot before speaking up again. "Letting Joffery become House patriarch is one thing, but the king of Kyth? Father, I don't think that's a good idea."
"On the contrary, I believe Joffery will do just fine," Everett spoke sternly. "He is the same age as the princess, he is chivalrous, and he..." He let out a sigh. "...He knows how to impress women."
"Well, yeah, but he doesn't know how to run a kingdom!" Reynold protested. "He's too flighty to handle that kind of responsibility!"
"Joffery is more responsible than you think he is, Reynold." Everett scowled. "He may not know everything now, but he will learn. I have faith in him, and I only wish that you would, as well."
Reynold didn't respond, frowning. All fell to silence for a moment, before Everett decided to speak up again.
"Incidentally, while you're here, there was something else I wanted to discuss with you," he said. "House Jade is invited to King Starmey's funeral in Medieville, and Joffery and I will both be attending. I will be expecting you to handle the affairs here in Corvus until our return."
At this, Reynold's eyes lit up. "Y-you will?"
"Yes. Seeing as both Joffery and I will be absent, and your mother..." Everett trailed off. It was only four years ago when she passed away... the wounds were still fresh. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "I trust you are capable of handling that responsibility."
"Of... of course, father!" Reynold replied, a smile crossing his face. "I promise I won't let you down."
"Thank you." Everett nodded, turning toward the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have preparations to make for the trip north."
"Right. Safe travels; 'Woo be with you."
"You, as well." Everett started to leave, but stopped in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at Reynold. "Also, something to consider... if Joffery becomes king, you would be allowed to be Lord of the House."
From the look in his eyes, it was clear that Reynold had conflicting thoughts about this. Everett sighed.
"I do trust Joffery, but that doesn't mean that I don't also trust you, Reynold," he told him. "And I wouldn't want you to think otherwise."
A pause. And then, Reynold smiled. "Thank you, father."
"Of course."
And with that, Lord Everett left the room, returning to his chambers to make his preparations. |
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Post by PFA on Nov 21, 2014 13:19:49 GMT -5
In which PFA takes a throwaway night action and turns it into DRAMA. Also my elaborate Jade backstory, whoo :^D (Thanks Tiger for letting me borrow Leif) MagicHouse Jade's magic was fading.
It wasn't something that Lord Everett was particularly keen to advertise, but the rumors had spread far enough that he might as well have. They still had plenty of mages, of course, but they were all recruits. Adoptees. The Jade bloodline, descended from some of the most powerful mages in the world, had been reduced to child after child being born with magic deficiency. Where had they gone wrong?
It was a problem they'd been working feverishly to correct. When Lord Everett was young, his family had arranged for his marriage to a powerful sorceress named Cassandra. She was a lovely woman, but unfortunately, she was never able to produce a child, and ultimately lost her life due to complications from childbirth.
Grieved from his loss, it wasn't until his father, Lord Eduard, died that Everett remarried—Lady Satine of House Arach, a House known for their great fertility. Though Everett loved her very much, 'Woo rest her soul, she was not a mage, and all six of their beautiful children were born with no magic.
Most of his siblings had married mages, as well, but it seemed the mages of this era were cursed with infertility. Many of their children died young, and the ones who didn't weren't as skilled of mages as their magically-inclined parents. It seemed no matter what they tried, the modern Jade family could never live up to their family name.
But Lord Everett wasn't about to give up.
It was his pet project, something he had worked on on the side of his other duties. He'd discussed it with Master Leif, who had agreed to help him with it as best he could, but ultimately it was a project that would often have the Lord of Embers awake late at night, hunched over a book he could only read by the soft candlelight glowing beside him.
A spellbook.
"This should be a fairly simple spell to learn," Leif had explained, when he first showed him the book. "...And probably more useful to you than conjuring wine."
Everett raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the indicated spell. "Create a Stone?"
"It's the spell used to conjure runestones," Leif told him. "As I said, it's a fairly simple spell. If you really want to learn magic, it's a good place to start."
"Of course I want to learn magic." Everett paused, taking a deep breath. "What do I do?"
"Alright, well, first you take your wand and focus your energy..."
The words echoed through Everett's mind, fingers clutched tightly around a small, wooden wand—his wand. The thought of him having his own wand was so foreign to him, but at the same time, it felt so right. He was Lord Everett, the Lord of House Jade, and he would not let his House's magic die.
He focused his mind, concentrating on channeling energy through the wand. Though his eyes burned with fatigue, and the concentration was only making it worse, he did not give up. He had to keep trying—he could feel it, he was so close!
"Almost got it," he muttered, as the struggle to unearth his latent magic potential threatened to make him collapse. "Almost got it..."
"House Jade's ancestors were renowned worldwide as mages of great talent..." "...simply do not have the gift..." "If nothing is done, our magic may be lost forever..." "...lost so much, what more is there to do?"
Please, if it be in thy wisdom, have mercy on this House, Everett prayed silently. I've done everything I could. I leave the rest to thy judgment...
A light crackled at the tip of his wand... and then his consciousness faded.
---
"Everett!"
The Lord of Embers awoke that morning to the sound of his sister's voice. He sat up with a groan, massaging his temples wearily. Right, he must have fallen asleep on his spellbook. That was not a comfortable way to sleep.
"Helena...?" he spoke hazily, as his sister charged frantically into the room. "What is the matter?"
"It's Jeniver," Helena replied, speaking of her teenaged daughter. "She's been kidnapped!"
"Kidnapped?" Everett questioned, immediately jolting awake at this revelation. "By whom?"
"We don't know. She went outside last night to better focus her mind for her visions, and she never came back," Helena told him. "We searched, but we could not find her. Someone must have abducted her!"
Kidnapping noble children? If that is how the next few days will go in this wooforsaken town, then we are all in for trouble, Everett thought crossly, hastily standing and moving to fetch his cape.
clunk
Amid the chaos, the faint noise had only faintly caught his attention, but it was nonetheless enough for him to glance absently toward the source. What he saw, however, caught him by surprise, giving him brief pause. For there, sitting on the desk next to his spellbook and wand, was something he was certain had not been there before.
A runestone.
Despite the situation, Lord Everett managed a small smile. House Jade's magic wasn't dead yet.
"We'll spread out and search for her immediately," Everett spoke, returning his thoughts to his kidnapped niece. "Tell Marson to prepare a carriage for me, and alert the others..." |
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Post by PFA on Dec 7, 2014 16:51:44 GMT -5
I noticed I was writing a disproportionate amount of Joffery and Everett and not a whole lot of Jeniver, so uhhh here's a Jeniver backstory fic!  DreamsLord Charles let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes wearily after poring through tome after tome of ancient spells. Another late night of work, which seemed to be the norm for him as of late. There was a spell he needed to find for Lord Everett, an important spell, but he couldn't find it anywhere. How could they have a library full of spellbooks and not the one he needed?
"Daddy?" came a familiar voice. Charles glanced back toward the source—a small child, with messy blonde hair falling onto her shoulders. She was wearing her nightgown, and staring up at him with frightened green eyes.
"Jeniver?" he asked, turning to face her. "What is it?"
"I-I had another bad dream," she replied.
Charles let out a sigh. His daughter, Jeniver, had been complaining of unusual dreams a lot lately. Some mundane, others frightening, but always unusual, with no explanation as to what was causing them or where they came from. With not much else he could do about it, Charles knelt down to her level, holding out his arms. "Come here."
Young Jeniver complied immediately, running over and clinging to her father. Charles wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair comfortingly. This seemed to help relax her a little, though she was shivering a little.
"There was a bad person," she told him. "She was dressed like a servant, but she took Aunt Satine's necklace, and she had a bunch of other stuff, too..."
"It's alright, Jeniver," Charles assured her. "It was just a dream."
Jeniver fell silent then, just nestling into the hug timidly. Charles held her close, as if to shield her from her fears. Though as he thought on it, he couldn't help ponder the odd... preciseness of the dream. Normally when children had bad dreams, it would be something far more fantastic, like monsters in the darkness. But servants stealing jewelry? For that matter, most of her strange dreams lately had been similarly down-to-earth. But why?
"You should get back to sleep," he said eventually, pulling away from the hug. "Just remember: no matter what happens, I promise your dreams can't hurt you."
"Y-yeah, okay," Jeniver agreed. "...Are you gonna come to bed, too?"
Charles frowned. He still needed to find that spell for Lord Everett, but it was late, and he really needed the sleep... as did Jeniver. It could wait a while longer, he decided. Lord Everett would understand.
"Of course," he replied, nodding. With that, he took her by the hand, and started leading her back to her room.
---
The next morning, the Jade family gathered in the entrance hall, prepared to leave for church. Charles glanced around the room, seeing who all was there—himself, of course, with his wife Helena, and his daughter Jeniver. There was Lord Roderick, with his own wife and daughter. And of course there were Lord Everett's five children, all lined up in a row (with the eldest holding his infant brother) and waiting patiently... in fact, it looked like everyone was here, except for the two most important people of all—Lord Everett and his wife.
"I wonder what's taking them so long?" Helena wondered, glancing toward the hallway with a frown.
"I hope everything's alright," Charles added. "Perhaps we should check on them."
"I'm sure they'll be here shortly," Helena assured him, though her husband was already starting down the hall. "We would know by now were it something serious."
"Just to be certain," Charles told her. "Wait here, I'll just be a moment."
Charles moved down the hall, keeping an eye out for Lord Everett. Thankfully, it didn't take long to find them—as Helena had predicted, they were on their way, and Charles met them in the hall. Upon seeing them, Charles gave a respectful bow.
"Ah, it's good to see you, my lord," he said. "We've been awaiting your arrival."
"Apologies for the delay," Lord Everett replied. "There was a... minor complication."
"It seems the necklace I had planned to wear today had been misplaced," Lady Satine, Everett's wife, added, while fingering the necklace she had on. "I decided to wear this one, instead."
"I still can't believe it was misplaced," Everett muttered with a scowl. "I had that necklace imported from Rindfell."
"It's alright, dear," Satine said, patting her husband reassuringly on the arm. "I'm sure we'll find it again. And even if not, it's just one necklace."
"Hmph. I suppose..."
Charles, meanwhile, frowned, his brow furrowed in thought as he stared at the necklace. Lady Satine's necklace had gone missing? No, it couldn't be... could it?
"She was dressed like a servant, but she took Aunt Satine's necklace, and she had a bunch of other stuff, too..."
...He had to find out. It was too much of a coincidence to ignore.
"The servants," he spoke suddenly.
Everett raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I'm not sure, but... it's possible one of the maidservants has been stealing valuables," Charles told him. "You should check to see if any of them have your necklace."
Satine blinked in surprise. "The maidservants? And what makes you say that?"
"...I'll explain another time," was Charles' response. "But I do believe there is good reason to check."
"Hm. Fair enough," Everett agreed. "I'll look into the matter."
"Best of luck." Charles watched the two of them continue on their way, lost in thought. If it was true, and Jeniver's dream was right... that could change everything.
---
Lord Everett had the maidservants' quarters searched immediately after the church service. Sure enough, it led to the unpleasant discovery that one of the maids had been pilfering valuables, including Lady Satine's necklace. Lord Everett was very displeased, having the maid punished and expelled from Jade Manor at once. The stolen valuables were returned to their rightful owners, who were very grateful that they were found.
Lord Charles, meanwhile, was just astonished that his daughter's unusual dream had become reality.
"It can't possibly be a coincidence," he said, speaking to his wife about it. "I'm not sure, but all the signs point to Jeniver's dream being prophetic."
"What of her other dreams?" Helena wondered. "The other strange dreams she's been complaining of? Do you think they were prophetic, too?"
"I don't know. It's possible," Charles admitted. "Either way, I think it needs to be investigated. If there's any chance our daughter was given the gift of visions..."
"Daddy?" came Jeniver's voice. Sure enough, when they turned to look, their daughter was standing in the doorway, clinging to her wand and looking concerned. "What's going on? I-I heard that..."
"Jeniver!" Charles immediately went over to greet her, kneeling down to her level. "This might sound like a strange question, but your dreams... I don't think they're actually dreams."
Jeniver frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I think that..." Charles trailed off, trying to decide how to say this. "Have you ever tried to control them?"
"Um... no?" was Jeniver's response. "I wouldn't know how."
"I think you should try," he told her. "Perhaps... perhaps if you focus on seeing a specific person. Focus on it like you would a spell." He indicated the jade-tipped wand she was always carrying around. "Can you do that for me, Jeniver?"
"I..." Jeniver fidgeted nervously. "...I can try."
"Thank you." Charles smiled at her encouragingly. "With any luck, perhaps we can get a handle on those visions of yours."
---
That night, Jeniver did as her father had instructed her, attempting to focus her dreams toward a specific person. Her parents decided to stay by her bedside that night, watching to see what would happen.
"Do you really think this will work?" Helena whispered as Jeniver slept peacefully.
"I don't know what to think," was Charles' response. "But I do believe it's worth a try."
All went quiet, the two of them silently praying for the best. They waited there for a few anxious moments, before finally young Jeniver's eyes fluttered open, and she glanced over drowsily at her parents.
"Well?" Charles asked. "Did it work?"
"I, um..." Jeniver rubbed her eyes, sitting up slowly. "...I don't think so."
"Did you have any dreams?" Helena asked.
"Well, yeah, but..."
"But?"
Jeniver frowned. "...It wasn't who I was thinking of. Sorry, daddy."
Charles let out a sigh. So she wasn't able to control them. He had hoped that... oh well. "Well, thank you for trying."
"Maybe I wasn't concentrating hard enough," Jeniver said. "Maybe if I tried harder—"
"Don't strain yourself over it, Jeniver. You did well," Charles insisted, standing from his seat beside the bed. "Just try and get some sleep."
Jeniver was silent at first. And then she muttered softly, "Okay."
"What about you?" Helena asked her husband, as he moved toward the door. "Aren't you coming to bed?"
"I'll be along shortly," Charles told her. "I just have some quick business to take care of."
"...Alright." Helena nodded. "See you soon, then."
"See you. Goodnight."
As her parents went their separate ways, Jeniver frowned, lost in thought. She couldn't end it there; she was so close! She just had to try a little bit harder...
"Perhaps... perhaps if you focus on seeing a specific person. Focus on it like you would a spell."
Her eyes fell upon the jade-tipped wand sitting beside her bed. A spell... maybe if she were to treat it like a spell?
She reached out and grabbed the wand, pulling it into bed with her and clutching unto it tightly. She smiled, comforted by the familiar magical sensation, and began again to concentrate.
---
Come on! Where is it?! Charles growled inwardly, slamming the magic book he was holding shut. He'd been through nearly every shelf in this library, and still no sign of the spell he needed to find. Surely if anyone were to have it, it would be House Jade, home to the most powerful mages in Kythian history, wouldn't it?
He let out a sigh, setting the book aside and reaching for another. He couldn't let himself get discouraged—one way or another, he needed to find that spell. Already this book was looking promising; perhaps he could adapt one of these spells to do what he wanted...
"Daddy, you lied."
Charles blinked, turning toward the sound of the voice. Again, he found Jeniver standing in the doorway, though this time she was clutching her wand, staring up at him with a disapproving frown.
"Jeniver?" was his only response.
"You said you just had quick business," Jeniver huffed. "But you came here to look through the books again. That's not quick."
Charles struggled for a moment to come up with a response, before finally settling on, "What are you doing up, Jeniver? Did you have another dream?"
This time, she smiled proudly. "Yep!"
A pause. And then, "What did you see?"
"Exactly what I wanted to see," Jeniver replied cheerily. "I tried again with my wand, and I concentrated, and then I saw you out here in the library. So then I came to see if you were here and here you are."
Charles' eyes widened in surprise. After a moment to register what she said, he took a step forward, toward Jeniver. "Are you saying... you actually controlled your visions?"
Jeniver nodded. "Uh-huh! And I think can do it again! Watch..."
"Wait, are you just going to...?" Charles started, watching in confusion as she clutched onto her wand, closing her eyes. Was she just going to fall asleep there in the doorway? Unless...
After some intense concentration on Jeniver's part, the jade tip of her wand started to glow. Charles watched with interest, surprised that she could do this while standing. He was even more surprised when she opened her eyes, which were glassed over and locked on a far away scene.
He was right. They weren't dreams at all.
"...What do you see?" he asked cautiously, wondering if she could still hear him.
"Mommy's in bed," Jeniver replied, confirming that she could. "I don't think she's asleep yet. I think she's waiting for you."
The glow from her wand faded, and she blinked a few times, her eyes returning to normal. Charles was silent, but a pleased smile crossed his face. She may have struggled a bit, but considering the moderate difficulty of scrying spells, Jeniver did exceptionally well for her age. She was a natural.
"See, daddy? I did it!" Jeniver chirped. "I treated it just like a spell, like you said to, and I did it!"
"Yes, you did indeed," Charles replied, kneeling down to her level to congratulate her. "You did very well."
"I'm getting better at magic," Jeniver said proudly. "One day I'll be a great mage, just like you!"
"Yes, perhaps," Charles agreed, though inwardly he had other thoughts—it was clear Lord 'Woo had gifted her with an uncommon gift, directing her toward the path of a powerful seer. But that was a conversation best saved for another time. "Now then, you should get back to bed."
"What about you?" Jeniver replied immediately. "You should get to bed, too."
Charles let out a sigh, though not a humorless one. The girl was persistent, wasn't she? "I'll come to bed shortly. I'm almost done with my work."
Jeniver frowned. "You said that last time."
"Well, I mean it this time. I'm close, I'm sure of it." He smiled, kissing her on the forehead. "Don't worry about me, Jeniver. You need your sleep—and hopefully you'll have better control of your visions now."
Jeniver was silent for a while, thinking on this. And then, she gave a small smile, nodding. "Okay. I love you, daddy."
"I love you too, Jeniver."
As Jeniver went on her way, Charles returned to his work, pondering how to adapt the spell he'd found to Lord Everett's purposes. Yes, this would do perfectly—he could adapt the spell without much trouble. But also, he realized, Jeniver's power would be a great help to House Jade someday in the future.
This is just the beginning, he thought to himself. |
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Post by PFA on Jan 5, 2015 2:00:00 GMT -5
Following Birdy's footsteps and posting a Mafia fic, whoa! This is a rewritten narrator post from Bardsley's POV, so uhhh expect a lot of spoilers. :'D (This is another scene I originally wrote for Bardsley's backstory and couldn't wait to post) Not AnymoreHe was exhausted. It had been such a long day—having to insist to all his students that everything was perfectly fine, then almost being killed by Piper Boudreaux, their target who turned out to be from Abominable Aifam, then finding out that Leopold Endicott was dead…
Professor Bardsley was actually rather disappointed by Mr. Endicott’s murder, though not as much as he was for Lindsey’s. The hair stylist was such a unique, enthusiastic individual, and more difficult for him to predict than other people. After Richem’s death, the way he clung to him… the last person he could think of who hugged him like that was Carol. Maybe it was just the emotion of the situation, but was Mr. Endicott trying to form a relationship of some kind? Professor Bardsley never would have returned the favor, not truthfully anyway, but he was interested in finding out. But it didn’t matter now, because Mr. Endicott was dead.
Unless… the thought crept into the back of his mind, though the idea of it caused him to shudder. Ghosts. Ever since the blind boy’s death, he’d been seeing ghosts. And he wasn’t the only one, as that ridiculous fiasco earlier proved. Both Ms. Parker and the Sister from the church tried to convince him that they were real, but he did not want to believe it. Death was supposed to be the end of it. He hadn’t exactly been secretive about his true nature to his victims, but he was sure that it didn’t matter, because dead men told no tales. But if they could come back…
He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on that thought. He needed something to take his mind off of it. He’d already read all the books in his library, that wasn’t going to help any longer, but what else was there to do? He looked around the immediate area, looking for anything that caught his interest.
His eyes fell upon the Burger Hut.
At first he was surprised. What interest would a sophisticated man like Leland G. Bardsley have in a den of dirty floors and greasy foods? But then he thought about it—the Burger Hut was one of the social centers of town. His students talked about it often, apparently as a good place to hang out and enjoy a decent meal. There would be people there, people who were still rattled by all the deaths. He could find a good seat at the edge of the room, enjoy a meal, and observe the crowd, gauge their reactions.
He smiled slightly. Yes, maybe that was exactly what he wanted right now.
And that was how Professor Bardsley found himself in the Burger Hut, with a double cheeseburger and a side of fries in front of him. Sure enough, quite the crowd had gathered there, including some of his own students and coworkers. It was clear that the recent murders were still fresh on everyone’s minds, as talk of them echoed through the room from all angles. Professor Bardsley listened carefully as he ate, endlessly fascinated by the scare he had helped to cause, while simultaneously hoping to keep tabs on anyone who might be a threat.
He found himself casting uneasy glances toward Mortimer Gunderson on multiple occasions. Gunderson worked at the Burger Hut, so of course he would be there, but Professor Bardsley made certain to sit as far away from him as possible. Such behavior wouldn’t be deemed as unusual, of course—everyone in town had been rather unsettled by the man’s proactive approach to combatting the mafias. Gunderson had made a lot of mistakes, wrongly executing innocent people, causing many to be scared of him. But for Professor Bardsley, though Gunderson was usually wrong… that didn’t mean he wasn’t ever right.
“Take this a warning! We are coming after you, Chill of the Night and Abominable Aifam! We are fighting back!”
The professor cringed slightly as the images flashed through his mind. Lindsey again… why did Lindsey’s death bother him so much? The words frightened him, that was understandable, but the fact that they were followed by a knife slicing through Lindsey’s throat seemed to make them that much more poignant. Was it because she was one of them? Would he have reacted the same way if it was Alma or Hermia?
The train of thought was interrupted by the sound of classical music—his phone. He was glad for the distraction, pulling out the phone to check the message. It was a text message from the college, about a road closure near campus. Nothing terribly important, so he deleted it and went on his way.
His thoughts drifted back to Gunderson. He knew he had to be careful—the idiot was already suspicious of him, after he had decided to take his coat with him to the restroom. Professor Bardsley’s finger went over the small lump in his coat pocket, reminding him of the object that was still there: that little potion that came to him in the mail, sent to him by the late Anna Dywight. The vial was so precious, he hadn’t told anyone of its existence, not even Alma or Hermia. (Of course, knowing them, they’d probably try to use it on their own victims, and he couldn’t have any of that.) He had to keep it safe, which is why he kept it with him at all times. It was a relief that Gunderson hadn’t taken it…
Moments later, his thoughts were interrupted by his phone again. Except this time, instead of classical music, it played a simple, default ringtone. Professor Bardsley immediately went on alert. It was his other phone, the one he used to keep in touch with his fellow mafiosos. It had to be important, but here? Now?
He quickly scanned the room, making certain that no one was paying attention to him. Thankfully, no one was… and there was no sign of Gunderson. And so, confident that no one would notice, he pulled out the small flip phone, taking a look at it. Thankfully, it was just a text message: it would be a nightmare if he had to excuse himself.
‘Are we still meeting tonight?’ the message read. It was from Hermia. Professor Bardsley scowled slightly. How could she forget?
‘Yes,’ was his hasty reply, before he immediately shoved the phone back in his pocket. Hermia had been acting rather unusual lately, he thought. It was almost as if she were—
“Why’ve you got two phones?”
Professor Bardsley’s blood ran cold. That voice... it was Gunderson. Where did he come from? Bardsley was certain that Gunderson wasn’t watching, he checked, but he must’ve been— oh ‘Woo, he was panicking. He had to say something!
“Pardon?” he managed, trying to remain calm. “I... I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Five minutes ago, you get a text. Smart phone. Just now, another text. But a different phone,” Gunderson clarified, removing all doubt. He had definitely seen it.
“You’re mistaken,” Professor Bardsley replied hastily, casting a quick glance around the room. Everyone was looking at him now. This was not good.
“I am not,” Gunderson insisted. “Empty your pockets.”
“I will not.” Professor Bardsley forced himself to calm down. This was not the appropriate time to lose control; he had to salvage this somehow. “You… you’ve gone a little mad, Mr. Gunderson. You need to calm down before you do more things that you’ll eventually regret.”
“I regret nothing. The rest of this town sits and shivers, but I take action,” was the response. “Without me, more mafiosos would still be alive—”
“Lindsey, perhaps,” Bardsley said, before he could stop himself. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he could hardly concentrate enough to articulate himself properly. “But the rest? They were innocent. Anna and Fella—”
“How do you know?” Gunderson questioned. “Unless…”
A pause. And then, Professor Bardsley scowled.
“You are not looking in my pockets,” he said.
But it was too late.
“Search his pockets!” Gunderson shouted. Within moments, a small crowd of people had gathered around the panicking professor’s booth.
“Let go of me!” Professor Bardsley cried, as they grabbed him and tried to pull him out of his seat. “I said— ngh! Let me go! LET ME GO!”
Despite his attempts to resist, the townspeople were able to restrain him and fish the two phones out of his pockets. Professor Bardsley watched in horror as they were handed off to Gunderson, who held them up triumphantly for everyone to see. The professor continued struggling as his burner phone was flipped open, and Gunderson started scanning through the messages.
“NO!” Bardsley shrieked, making one last desperate attempt to break free and retrieve the phone. But it was to no avail, and far too late.
“‘The target is at the beach. It’s time to make our move,’” Gunderson said, reading one of the texts on his phone aloud. He sent Bardsley a dirty look before adding, “Seems rather suspicious, doesn’t it?”
An audible murmur of surprise echoed through the restaurant, sending a chill down Professor Bardsley’s spine. His eyes were wide, his breath haggard as he looked around the room, seeing all the horrified faces staring back at him. People he knew, some of them his own students or coworkers… people who had trusted him unquestioningly up until this moment.
“‘The painter is dead,’” Gunderson continued, digging the hole even deeper. “‘When are we meeting next?’”
“N-no…” he mumbled, barely audible over Gunderson’s voice. This… this wasn’t supposed to be happening! After all his hard work, after twenty years of trying to pass off as a normal person… it all came down to this.
They knew. They knew he was mafia, they knew he was a murderer. They would despise him, call him a madman, say he was insane.
I’m insane, the words pierced his thoughts, drowning out Gunderson’s voice. He shivered again as he remembered that day, twenty years ago, when he finally realized what he was. He was so terrified, afraid of what would happen if anyone ever found out. And now all the emotions from that day had doubled back on him, now that his fears had become reality. He was unfit for society, and now he would be forcibly removed.
“I… I can't,” the words echoed through his mind, a distant memory by now. “I can't keep pretending I'm something I'm not.”
He couldn’t. He couldn’t hide it anymore.
“It's not always easy being different and pretending not to be. It's a constant effort, and sometimes I just can't take it anymore, but I have to, or…”
But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
Not anymore.
“‘They’ve found the body. Check the news.’ ...I’d say that confirms it, wouldn’t you?” Gunderson closed the phone conclusively, having made his point. “It’s over for you, mafia scum.”
It’s over, the words repeated in Professor Bardsley’s mind. There’s no turning back now. I can’t even use the potion to… A pause. And then, a realization. The potion!
Professor Bardsley fought against the grip of his captors one last time, turning to face the booth where his coat rested. He couldn’t use the potion to save himself, that much was true, but he was not about to let it fall into the hands of anyone else. And so, with every ounce of determination he had left, he kicked hard at the coat, aiming for the vial. To his delight, he heard a crack, and saw clear liquid start to seep through the coat.
As the townspeople pulled him away from the booth, toward the now knife-wielding Gunderson, he gave a twisted, satisfied grin. Everyone saw it, but he didn’t care anymore. He was not about to spend the last moments of his life pretending to be something he wasn’t.
“They’re going to avenge me, you know,” Professor Bardsley told him. The fear in his voice was gone, his tone now smooth and haunting. “You’re going to regret this, all of you. You mark my words—you mark my words.”
Though somewhat unnerved by the sudden change in demeanor, Gunderson was not stopped, bringing the knife to the professor’s throat. Bardsley didn’t know what to expect—part of him was hoping it would be quick and painless—but he had no such luck. It was unimaginably painful. He caught a glimpse of his blood spilling onto his clothes, and then…
Then it was all over.
...Or was it? (People whose characters are mentioned in this: Lizica, Liou, Pixie and Celestial passingly, Ginz ❤, Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) and Birdy 8D) |
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Post by PFA on Jan 6, 2015 13:20:30 GMT -5
Occurs shortly after Little Siblings, Big Snakes. You're welcome 8D (Tagging Shinko and Celestial for the mentions of Ophelia and Alain) Talk to Your Kids About Drinking"So how did it go?" Lord Everett asked as Reynold entered the room.
"It was alright," was Reynold's reply. "Apparently the Elacsites want to build a snake farm near Nid'aigle, and the elves want it moved. I might have to go to Elacs and talk to them directly."
Everett raised an eyebrow. "You want to go to Elacs?"
"Not really, but I thought since I was the one handling the situation, well." Reynold shrugged. "...Also I might get to stop by Nid'aigle."
"I see." Everett gave a small smile at this. "It sounds like it went well. I'm glad to hear it."
"Yeah, I guess so," Reynold said with a slight smile, before trailing off into thoughtful silence.
Noticing this, Everett frowned. "...Is something the matter?"
"Oh, um..." Reynold hesitated for a moment. He'd been hoping to impress his father with how well he'd handled the meeting, but... it wouldn't do him any good to lie. "...It just wasn't exactly what I was expecting, I guess."
"How so?"
Reynold sighed. "...She could tell I was inexperienced. And I kind of messed up. Though it did work out in the end," he added hastily, before his father could comment.
"Hm." Everett thought on this for a moment. "Well, you are still learning. It's alright to make mistakes sometimes."
"Yeah, that's what she told me," Reynold mumbled. "I just... I really wanted to prove myself."
"Even great men make mistakes, Reynold," Everett told him. "In fact, the best will learn from their mistakes and move on. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
Reynold smiled a little. "...Thank you. I'll try to remember that."
"It's good advice." Everett nodded. "My own father taught me that long ago."
There was silence for a moment. And, then, finally, Reynold spoke up. "By the way, I was wondering..."
"Yes?"
"Did you, um..." Reynold hesitated. This really felt like a strange question to be asking his father, but he couldn't stop thinking about it, so he might as well ask. "...Did you really get drunk at King Starmey's wedding?"
Any doubt that Reynold had about the authenticity of the story was immediately removed by the look on his father's face. Everett fumbled for a response for a moment, before deciding on, "Who told you that?"
"The, uh, the Nid'aigle representative mentioned it," Reynold explained, blinking in surprise.
Everett went through a series of uncomfortable facial expressions, before he finally groaned and pinched his brow in frustration. "Why would— I mean, that's really not— I can't believe—" He shook his head. "...You shouldn't listen to such ridiculous stories, Reynold."
A pause. And then, "...You did, didn't you?"
"If any such allegations are true, and if any of it actually happened, it was not my fault," Everett insisted firmly, his face now an interesting shade of red. Reynold was stunned—he'd never seen his father get so flustered. What in the world had happened at that wedding?
"She, uh, she said something about the Grand Duke being involved?" Reynold offered cautiously.
"He tricked me," Everett admitted. "He sent me that accursed wine glass and I—" He paused, as if in realization. He then blushed even harder (Reynold didn't know it was possible to turn that color) and turned his back, trying and failing to hide his embarrassment. "Look, it was a long time ago, I— this really isn't important."
Reynold was silent at first, not sure how to respond. The thought of his father, the great Lord of Embers, getting so drunk that he refused to even recount the incident was an unbelievably foreign one... and yet here they were. Ultimately, Reynold gave a small amused smile. Perhaps it was true after all—even great men sometimes made stupid mistakes.
"If you say so," Reynold said, forcing the smile back off his face before his father could comment. "Anyway, like I said, the meeting went well, overall. I guess I should probably prepare a trip to Elacs..."
"Right. Of course," Everett agreed, glad for the change of subject. Forcing himself to relax, he added, "It's best to leave as soon as possible, so you can arrive before they begin construction."
"Yes, right." Reynold nodded. "...Maybe I should bring some protection against snakes?"
"You have to be careful with that. You don't want to offend them," Everett told him. "What I would suggest..." |
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Post by PFA on Jan 13, 2015 0:00:19 GMT -5
Collab with Shinko! Feathers, Fun and Friends“Come on, Reynold! Hurry up!”
“Wait! Not so fast!” a young Reynold whined, struggling to keep up with his older brother. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“You’ll see!” Joffery grinned, waiting for a moment for Reynold to catch up before breaking into a run again. Reynold groaned, running as fast as he could to try and catch up. Joffery was growing up so big and fast, it was almost unfair.
They continued running for a while, before they finally reached their destination. Reynold’s eyes widened in awe as he realized where they were—these were the phoenix mews, where the House’s phoenixes were kept. Reynold was always fascinated by the phoenixes, but he’d never had the chance to see them up close before.
“Are you sure we should be here?” he asked instinctively, peering around nervously.
“Don’t worry! It’s perfectly safe,” Joffery insisted, grabbing his brother by the wrist. “Come see! You’ll love it.”
Reynold gave a small squeak in surprise as he was pulled along by his brother, but his nervousness was overshadowed by his excitement upon seeing the phoenixes. They were beautiful birds, plumaged in the signature green and gold of House Jade. Joffery smiled, bringing Reynold to one of the stalls, the phoenix regarding the young nobles with a curious glance as they approached.
“She’s so pretty,” Reynold remarked, staring up at the large bird with wondering eyes.
“I told you you’d like it,” Joffery replied cheerily. “I come out here and sing to them sometimes. Did you know phoenixes really like music?”
Reynold blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah! Watch…” Joffery cleared his throat, and began singing to the phoenix.
The female phoenix cocked her head curiously, listening for the first few bars of the song. It seemed she’d been waiting to get a feel for the melody, because after a short while she began piping along- not exactly in harmony, but rather singing her own tune to compliment Joffery’s. The huge green bird’s eyes glittered with interest and friendliness as she looked down at the boys.
“Wow!” Reynold remarked, watching with interest. “That’s really neat.”
Joffery smiled. “See? I told you. You should try it!”
“But I don’t sing like you do,” Reynold replied. “I’m not very good.”
“It’s okay! I bet she’ll like it anyway!”
“Um…”
While the two boys were talking, the phoenix seemed to become distracted. She looked up from them and towards a point over their heads, making a cheerful fluting noise. A few seconds later, an adult male voice sounded from behind the children.
“Hm. You two look awfully young to be new fireknight cadets,” remarked a man leaning on the doorframe. He was middling height, with short cropped pale brown hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. He was dressed in a casual tunic and breeches, but pinned to his chest was a knight’s badge with the special border around it that marked him as a fireknight. Though his face and voice were perfectly neutral, there was a very faint glimmer of amusement in his dark grey eyes.
Reynold jumped at the sound of the voice, whirling around to face the man. Then, pointing to Joffery, he squeaked, “It was his idea!”
“We’re not doing anything wrong!” Joffery added immediately. “We were just taking a look. And singing!”
“I see,” the man replied, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking towards the boys. “Well I suppose there’s no harm in that, as long as you let someone know you were coming first- I assume your parents okay’ed you to come and sing with the phoenixes?”
“Ummm… maybe?” was Joffery’s hesitant reply.
“If you can’t remember, we can always go ask,” the man said helpfully. “I’m sure they can clear that up for us. In fact I have some time now.”
“Wait! I mean, um… they’re really busy,” Joffery insisted. “Maybe you shouldn’t ask them.”
“I told you we’d get in trouble, Joffery,” Reynold protested. Again, as if to clarify, he pointed to his brother and told the man, “It was his idea.”
“Whoever’s idea it was, you’re both here now,” the man pointed out. “Somehow I don’t think your busy folks would care to waste time debating who’s idea it was, would they?”
Joffery gave a guilty expression, defeated. “I guess… I’m sorry, mister. We won’t sneak off again.”
“…Yeah,” Reynold agreed. “We’ll be good.”
The man looked down at the children impassively for a moment more, then his expression unexpectedly gentled. “Would you like to give her a treat?”
The two boys looked up at him, their eyes lighting up eagerly.
“Can we really?” Reynold asked.
The fireknight smiled. “Certainly. She seems to have taken a shine to you both, so I don’t see why not. Just next time you want to see the phoenixes, ask your folks first- and ask for Lieutenant Escalus- that’s me- when you get down here. It’s not a good idea to be in here by yourselves.”
“Okay,” Joffery replied with a nod.
The man reached into his pocket, and came up with a small leather bag. Pulling open a drawstring, he revealed its contents- raisins. “Take some of these and hold your hands out palm up to her.”
The two boys smiled, taking some of the raisins in their hands. Joffery nodded at Reynold, letting him go first. He was the one who always wanted to see the phoenixes, after all. Reynold grinned, holding out his hand to the phoenix.
The bird brightened at the sight of the treat, arching her long, graceful neck down towards the young boy and daintily picking up the raisins from his palm with the tip of her beak.
“You can pet her with your other hand if you like,” the fireknight put in. “Try scratching her cheek under the feathers.”
Reynold grinned from ear to ear, doing as suggested and carefully reaching out to the phoenix’s cheek. The phoenix leaned into his hand, making a noise almost like a dove cooing as the young boy scratched her face.
“That’s so cool!” he remarked, ecstatic.
Joffery smiled, happy for his brother. He then turned to the fireknight curiously. “Escalus. That’s one of the minor Houses, right?”
“Yes, it is,” the fireknight confirmed. “Lord Olander is my father. I see your education in the nobles of Corvus is already proceeding well, young Master Jade.”
“Thanks! I’ve been trying hard to learn all the names,” Joffery replied.
“Me too!” Reynold interjected. “I want to learn about all the Houses.”
The man laughed. “Well I’m sure you’ll both learn plenty. I’m afraid I can’t really satisfy your curiosity much about House Escalus though- I left Heleos when I was only sixteen and haven’t been back since.”
“Oh,” Joffery said, an uncertain waver to his voice. He wasn’t sure why anyone would leave their home at sixteen, but he got the impression it was better not to ask. “…That’s too bad.”
The fireknight shrugged. “Father and I just didn’t see eye to eye.” The man walked forwards towards the phoenix, petting her gently, a distant look in his eyes. He seemed to pull himself back into the present, and added, “But it’s good to see Lord Everett’s heirs are so keen to their studies. It means you’ll do well for the region in the future.”
“Yeah!” Joffery perked up again, smiling proudly. “I hope I can do a good job, like father does.”
“Yeah… me too.” Reynold frowned thoughtfully, pulling away from the phoenix as she ate the last of the raisins from his hand. Joffery took the cue to step forward, holding out his own handful of raisins for the phoenix.
The fireknight seemed to notice Reynold’s hesitation, because as his phoenix bent down to accept the treats from Joffery the man walked over to him and tentatively put a hand on his shoulder. “Something the matter, young lord?”
“Oh, um… I dunno,” Reynold replied vaguely, though he glanced over at Joffery. Joffery didn’t seem to notice, cheerfully singing a small tune as the phoenix ate from his hand. Reynold didn’t say anything else, but he had an uncertain look in his eyes.
The fireknight followed the direction of Reynold’s gaze, frowning slightly. Whatever was bothering him, he obviously didn’t want to talk about it in front of his brother. But something was clearly bothering him, and the older man couldn’t help wanting to comfort the boy somehow.
Then his eyes lit, and he knelt down in front of the boy. “Say, how about I give you a good luck charm to help with your studies?”
Reynold blinked, looking up at him curiously. “A good luck charm?”
The fireknight walked around the back of Mirja’s part of the mews, returning a moment later and offering Reynold a single, bright green wing primary, tipped with gold. “You can never have too many quills.”
Reynold’s eyes lit up, taking the feather in his hand eagerly. “Wow, this is cool! Thanks, um… Sir Escalus.”
The fireknight shook his head, “You can just call me Anders, young lord. That’s my first name- sorry, I probably should have brought it up sooner.” He gave the child a wink. “No need to stand on ceremony with a friend. And you’re very welcome.”
“Oh! Okay, Anders,” Reynold said, smiling. Then, as if realizing he’d never introduced himself either, he added, “I’m Reynold.”
“I’m Joffery!” Joffery piped in. “…Though I guess you probably know that already, huh?”
“Maybe,” Anders replied with a smile. “You’re both rather the spitting image of Lord Everett. But it’s still polite to do the introductions formally, so no harm done. And while we’re giving introductions-”
He stood again, walking over to the phoenix and patting her back. “This is my phoenix, Mirja.”
Mirja piped a cheerful tune, leaning down to bump her head against Joffery’s chest. Joffery gave a small yelp in surprise before letting out a laugh. Anders smirked. “Seems she’s decided she wants to be your friend too, Lord Joffery.”
“Well, I’m happy to be your friend, Mirja!” Joffery replied cheerily.
“Me too?” Reynold asked, coming up beside his brother. “I’ll be your friend, too!”
The phoenix turned her attention to Reynold, giving a short, cheep and preening his hair with her beak. Anders smiled. “I think that’s a yes. Both of you are welcome to come and see Mirja again whenever you like- just ask Lord Everett first. I don’t want to get in trouble just the same as you don’t!”
“Yeah,” Joffery admitted with a sigh. “We will.”
“Maybe we should get back,” Reynold pointed out. “Before they start wondering where we went.”
“I guess, yeah.” Joffery nodded, turning to Anders with a smile. “Thanks for letting us see her!”
“You’re welcome,” the fireknight replied. Patting Mirja on the back he added, “Say goodbye to the young lords, my dear.”
She piped a soft tune, bobbing her head towards Joffery and Reynold. The two boys giggled happily. Anders grinned at them. “I’ll see you around then. Best of luck with your studies.”
“Thanks!” Joffery replied. Then, turning to Reynold, he said, “Come on.”
“It was nice meeting you!” Reynold added, waving to him as they left. He glanced down at the feather in his hand, carefully running a finger along the barbs. It was very smooth, just like he’d always imagined phoenix feathers to be.
He smiled. Even if he got in trouble, it was nice to see a phoenix up close. And it was even nicer to make a friend. |
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Post by PFA on Feb 6, 2015 15:38:26 GMT -5
This fic is finally DONE *throws it at the thread* A New Wife"You know you're going to need to remarry."
The young Lord Everett let out a sigh. "...I know."
Everett always knew he was going to need to remarry, ever since his wife Cassandra died, leaving him with no children. The poor woman was not blessed with the gift of fertility—when she finally did conceive, she lost her life due to complications with the birth, tragically taking the child with her. The incident was very traumatic for Everett, and his father allowed him the space to recover before finding a new wife.
But now his father was dead. Lord Everett had been crowned as the new House patriarch, and he was going to need heirs. There was no more time for stalling: he needed a new wife.
The very words stung in his mind. "A new wife," like he was replacing a broken piece of furniture. Cassandra was more than that—she was his best friend, wonderful, intelligent, and kind; he couldn't dream of replacing her so carelessly. Unfortunately, his personal feelings on the matter meant nothing to the world of politics, and it was what he was forced to do.
"...I'll look into it," he muttered to his advisors. "For now, we should focus on the matter at hand."
His advisors exchanged concerned glances, but each gave a relenting sigh. "Of course, my lord..."
---
Time went on, and business went about as usual. Despite Everett's assurances that he would look into remarrying, it quickly became clear that he hadn't put any serious thought into who he would take as his second wife. Even when his advisors would give suggestions, Everett would dismiss the issue and move on before a decision could be made.
Eventually, they got desperate. And desperate times called for desperate measures.
"We'll be making trade negotiations with House Arach," spoke one of his advisors, an elven man named Peter, while riding with Lord Everett in a carriage bound for Veresia. "We're hoping we can convince them to give us more of their dyes—and perhaps some Veresian wood for wands—in exchange for some Corvid herbs."
"Hm. I see." Everett thought on this for a moment. "And why, again, am I required to be there for this?"
"Diplomacy reasons, mainly," Peter explained. "As the new Lord of House Jade, it's important to make a good impression to the other House Lords. We want to be in good favor with House Arach, after all."
Everett raised an eyebrow. "Aren't we already in good favor with House Arach?"
"Yes, but it's always a good idea to maintain relations," was the reply. "Trust me, my lord; it will be well worth it."
"...I hope you're right," Everett said with a sigh. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that there was more to it than his advisor was letting on, but he kept his reservations to himself for now.
It was a long trip—about two weeks to get from Solis to Aran. Everett was confident in his brother's ability to handle the House affairs while he was gone, but it would still amount to nearly a month's absence. That was an awfully long time to be away for simple trade negotiations. There had to be some other reason for the trip, he was certain of it.
He had his suspicions through the whole trip, but they were confirmed when they arrived in Aran.
"Greetings, and welcome to Aran," spoke the woman who had been sent to greet them—an Arach noble, judging from her dress. "It is an honor to welcome you to our city, Lord... Everett, is it?"
"Lord Everett, yes," Everett replied. "And you are...?"
"Oh, I'm Lady Satine, Lord Sylk's daughter," the woman, Satine, said with a polite smile. "I come on behalf of House Arach."
...Satine Arach. Everett realized he had heard the name before, from his own advisors—her name had been brought up several times in their discussion about his need to remarry, having been named as a potential candidate. And now here she was, oh-so-conveniently here to welcome him to Aran.
Somehow, he was not surprised.
"Please, come this way," Satine continued, beckoning Everett to follow her to Castle Arach.
"Thank you." Everett sighed inwardly, but kept his thoughts to himself for the time being as he followed her.
"I'm afraid my father had some important business to take care of just before you arrived," Satine explained along the way. "I hope you don't mind waiting for him; it should only be a minute."
"It's nothing terribly important. We can wait," was Everett's response. Honestly, he wasn't sure it was even important enough to get Lord Sylk involved personally, but he decided not to question it.
"That's good." Satine smiled again. "You must be weary from your trip. A room has been prepared for you during your stay here—I assume you'll be staying the night?"
"I suppose we'd best." Everett glanced toward the sun, which was only just starting to set, but nonetheless setting. "We did arrive quite late."
"Well, as I said, a room has been prepared for you," Satine replied. "Come this way, please."
She brought them to the mentioned guest room, which indeed appeared to have been specifically prepared for them, including a large banner with House Jade's emblem on it. Additionally, while the rest of the castle had been adorned with ceremonial Spyder paraphernalia, the Arachs had taken special care to place a Woocifix in this room for the Jades.
"I hope it's to your liking," Satine said. "If there's anything else you need, the servants will be happy to provide it."
"It's fine, thank you," Everett replied with a nod.
"The Woocifix is a nice touch," Peter remarked. "And a very high quality one, too."
"Oh, thank you. It was my idea to put it there." Satine smiled, fiddling with her hair bashfully. "I know how much the Lord Woo means to your House."
"That's very considerate of you, Lady Satine," Peter added, pleased. "It must be difficult finding a good quality Woocifix here in Veresia."
"Well, there are some Veresian Wooists, so it's not as hard as you'd think," Satine pointed out. "Though I believe we got that one in Albion."
"...It's very nice," Everett admitted, staring at the Woocifix thoughtfully. It was a kind gesture, he had to admit, but... after a moment, he shook his head, returning his attention to Satine. "Well, thank you for your hospitality."
Satine nodded. "Of course. I'll let father know you're here. Please make yourselves comfortable."
And with that, she walked off, closing the door softly behind her. Everett listened to her retreating footsteps for a moment, waiting until he was sure she was out of earshot before turning to his advisor with a scowl.
"I'm not really here for trade negotiations, am I?" he questioned.
"Well... we do need the materials," Peter replied evasively.
"Yes, but there is no reason for me to be present for the negotiations," Everett said bluntly. "You obviously brought me here to meet Lady Satine."
"It's true she is here, yes, but that doesn't mean—"
"She came personally to welcome me to Aran," Everett added. "That cannot possibly be a coincidence."
"Well, I'm sure Lord Sylk knows you need to remarry," Peter pointed out, "and that Lady Satine would be a good candidate."
"You didn't tell him, did you?" Everett's scowl deepened. "Because I don't appreciate you arranging these things behind my back."
"It honestly is just trade negotiations. It does not have to be anything more than that," Peter insisted. "But... while we're here, could you at least consider talking to her?"
Everett was silent at first, eyes narrowed at Peter. If he really had arranged a meeting with his potential second wife without telling him... the Lord of House Jade really couldn't encourage such underhanded behavior. That said, he couldn't deny the logic—he had been putting off finding a new wife, because it was so out of the way for something he didn't want to do, but now that they were already here...
Finally, he let out a strained sigh. "...Fine. When I get the chance, after the negotiations, I'll speak with her."
Peter smiled at this. "I'm glad to hear it, my lord. I do think she's a good candidate; she seems to be a very pleasant person, with a great family history of..."
Everett gritted his teeth, tuning out the words he had heard many times before. This was going to be a long day.
---
Sure enough, it wasn't long before Lord Sylk finished his prior obligations and they were able to begin with the trade negotiations. It went smoothly, thankfully, as Lord Sylk was more than happy to trade for the herbs. It took them some discussion to decide on the specifics, but ultimately settled on what they both agreed was a fair trade.
"Thank you for your time, Lord Sylk," Everett said at the end of the meeting, shaking hands with the Arach lord.
"It's my pleasure," Lord Sylk replied. "Now then, I understand you'll be spending the night here in Aran?"
"Yes," Everett told him, glancing toward the window. "It's too late in the day for travel."
"It would be my honor, then, if you were to join me and my family for dinner," Lord Sylk offered. "The servants are preparing a wonderful lobster dinner tonight."
"We may as well." Everett glanced briefly at his advisor, who gave a particularly enthusiastic encouraging nod. "I've never had lobster before."
"I do think you'll enjoy it, Lord Jade. We have this delectable dipping made from some of the finest spices..."
With that, Lord Sylk led the way to the large dining hall. It was stately and ornate, and large enough to fit the large Arach family. A delightful aroma filled the air, as the servants in the kitchen worked hard to prepare the meal. Some other servants bowed respectfully to the two noble lords as they entered, offering their humble welcomes before guiding them to their seats. Lord Sylk and his wife, of course, were placed at the head of the table, while Everett was given a seat beside him.
Peter was seated beside Everett... but not for long, as the elf immediately gave up his seat when Satine entered the room.
"Ah, Lady Satine! Why don't you sit here?" he insisted.
"Uh, here?" she questioned. "But I— well, I wouldn't want to—"
"No, please, I insist," Peter continued. Everett resisted the urge to groan. If there was any doubt of his ulterior motives for this trip, that doubt was now gone. Why, oh why did he have to make a scene of it?
"I don't see why not," Lord Sylk offered, apparently amused by the ordeal. Dear 'Woo, this was not going to end well. "The kind man has offered his seat for you; the least you can do is accept it."
"Um... only if you don't mind, Lord Everett," was Satine's response.
Everett frowned, looking up at her. This was obviously a ploy on his advisor's part, made especially obvious by the encouraging smile on Peter's face. The man was doggedly persistent, and it aggravated Everett. But... he had already assured him that he would speak with Satine, and this was as good a time as any.
He let out a sigh, forcing back his reservation. Once again, his personal feelings had no place in the world of politics.
"That's fine," he said finally. "You can sit there if you wish."
"I... o-okay." Satine gave an awkward smile, cautiously taking her seat. At least the discomfort was mutual, Everett thought wryly.
"I assume you've met my daughter, Lord Jade?" Sylk asked with a pleased smile.
"Yes. She came to welcome me to Aran," Everett replied, trying to mask his irritation at the question.
"Yes, that's right, father," Satine added, watching as Peter took his seat elsewhere. "I was the one who told you he was here, remember?"
"Ah, yes, of course." Lord Sylk nodded. "Thank you for doing that for me, incidentally. I do appreciate your dependability."
"Oh, um... of course, father," Satine replied awkwardly.
He's doing this on purpose, isn't he? Everett thought crossly, glancing toward the kitchen impatiently. How long until the food gets here?
"Incidentally, how did you like your room?" Lord Sylk asked Everett, thankfully changing the topic somewhat. "We took great care to have it prepared for your arrival."
"It's quite nice, thank you," Everett replied.
"The Woocifix was a nice touch. That was your idea, wasn't it, Lady Satine?" Peter added, and again, Everett resisted the urge to groan. That was definitely on purpose.
"Um, yes, that's right," Satine answered, sending a concerned glance toward Everett.
"Anything to make our esteemed guests more comfortable." Lord Sylk nodded, glancing over his shoulder as the servants came in from the kitchen, carrying trays of food. "Ah! Here come the appetizers."
Thank the Woo, Everett thought to himself, watching the servants place small plates of fruit in front of each person seated at the table, starting of course with Lord Sylk and his wife, then him, then the other Arachs roughly in order of rank.
"Now, Lord Jade, I'm sure you of all people appreciate the need for religious tradition," Lord Sylk said. "That said, I do hope you would join us for our mealtime prayer?"
Everett paused, thinking on the request. This was Veresia, so he must have meant a prayer to their Spyder god. As a devout Wooist, that was the type of thing Lord Everett normally wouldn't participate in... but it would be rude to refuse it in a room full of Arachs. And it was still religion, even if wasn't his preferred god...
"...Very well," he agreed carefully.
"We could also do a Wooist prayer, for our guests," Satine suggested. "If you would like, Lord Everett."
"Actually... yes, I would appreciate that," Everett admitted. "If you don't mind, of course."
Lord Sylk considered the suggestion for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose it's only fair. But only if Lord Jade is willing to offer it."
Everett nodded in turn. "Of course."
"Very well, then. Allow us to go first." Sylk turned to his wife with a smile. "If you would do the honors."
Lady Arach nodded, standing up and taking her position. The Arachs all bowed their heads, the Jades cautiously following suit, and Lady Arach uttered some ceremonial words in gratitude to the Spyder. It was an unusual, though admittedly fairly interesting experience, hearing a Spyder prayer.
As Lady Arach finished the prayer and sat back down, Lord Sylk nodded at Everett. "Well, go ahead."
Everett nodded in turn, bowing his head and offering his own prayer to Lord Woo. It was less of an unusual experience for the Arachs, since Kyth was predominantly Wooist, but it was relaxing for Everett, and that was what mattered. And then finally, when he finished, they started eating.
"So how is life in Corvus, Lord Jade?" Lord Sylk asked, continuing the small talk.
"It's fine, thank you," Everett replied. "We just finished this year's Emberwing Championship."
"Oh, I've heard about that," Satine remarked. "That's where the best fireknights from all across Corvus show their skills and compete against each other, right?"
Everett nodded. "We hold it every other year. We're lucky that the circumstances were able to line up in time for the ceremonies—there were some very strong competitors this year."
"It must be very exciting to watch," Satine said. "All the Corvid traditions sound so interesting. I think I'd like to attend some of them sometime."
Everett raised an eyebrow, looking at her. That seemed a rather... heavy-handed comment, given the circumstances. Was she in on this ridiculous ploy, too? Before he could say anything, however, Satine gave a sheepish smile, apparently reading his expression and feeling guilty.
"I, um, I find foreign cultures interesting," she explained. "I always have."
"I see," Everett replied simply, unsure what to make of this. He had no reason to doubt her honesty, but it was obvious what she was trying to do. What did it say that she felt she had to go so far out of her way just to impress him?
That you need to let go, he reminded himself with a pang of bitterness. You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment again. You need to calm d—
"Is something wrong?" Satine asked, noticing the look in his eyes. Everett cursed himself inwardly, immediately forcing the emotion out of his expression. This was not the time to get emotional.
"No, of course not," he lied, clearing his throat discreetly to remove the emotion from his words. "If you do get the chance, it's definitely quite the enjoyable show. I'm sure you'd enjoy it."
Satine was silent at first. And then, slowly, she smiled. "Yes, I'm sure I would."
"Yes." Everett nodded, again trying not to emote. Dear 'Woo, if it was already this awkward just for the appetizers, how was he going to make it through the main course?
"So, um... maybe you can tell me more about the Emberwing Championship?" Satine offered. "What events do they have?"
Oh good, a distraction. Everett sighed, regaining his composure. "Yes, well, there's jousting, which is always very interesting to watch. There's also..."
The conversation continued for a while, thankfully without as many awkward moments—at least not on Satine's part. The conversation itself was fairly relaxing, but Everett could feel his advisor, Lord Sylk and... probably the entire room watching him expectantly. This was hard enough without the added pressure, but when you're the Lord of House Jade, it was unfortunately unavoidable.
If only father hadn't died so soon, he thought absently. If only Cassandra hadn't died...
Thankfully, that train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of the main course. The servants had apparently prepared multiple lobsters, with each person receiving a plate of one of many assorted lobster parts. Everett's plate in specific had a lobster tail on it, which was apparently fairly desirable.
"Ah yes, at last," Lord Sylk remarked, proceeding to eat. "The Albinians like to talk about their seafood, but just between you and me, Veresian seafood is the real luxury."
"It smells delicious," Everett remarked, glancing down at his plate thoughtfully. The lobster tail had a particularly tough shell, which he was certain wasn't supposed to be eaten, but how was he supposed to get through it? No one nearby seemed to be eating a lobster tail—Lord Sylk and his wife were eating lobster claws, which seemed even more absurd to him—so he couldn't observe them and find out on his own.
"Do you need help?" Satine asked, apparently noticing his confusion.
"I, er... yes," Everett admitted hesitantly.
Satine gave an amused smile, leaning in closer to help him with his food. "You see, you can cut open the underside of the tail, like this—then you can get to the meat inside. See?"
"Oh. Yes, thank you." Everett carefully took the knife from Satine's hand, finishing what she started. It was a little embarrassing how easy that was, but he was grateful for the aid regardless.
"It's okay, the tough shell is confusing for most people," Satine told him. "But it's not so bad when you get used to it."
Lord Sylk chuckled lightheartedly, watching this exchange. "You seem to get along well with my daughter, Lord Jade."
Everett tried not to choke on his first bite of lobster. Did he really have to say that? As if it wasn't awkward enough already. He forced himself to chew and swallow before speaking... and even then, he didn't have a proper response. "Er, I... it's not that... I mean..."
"They do make quite a pair, if I do say so myself," Peter added cheerily. Everett shot him a glare; he was not helping.
Satine grimaced, deciding to change the subject before it got any more awkward. "Yes, well, um... how do you like the lobster, Lord Everett?"
"Good. It's good, thank you," he replied succinctly, taking another bite to calm himself. Don't get angry, Everett, it's for your own good...
"I'm glad you like it," Satine said with a smile. Then, before anyone could comment, she changed the subject again. "So I'm assuming you're from Nid'aigle, Advisor Jade?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, I am," Peter replied. "I haven't been back to the city in some time, though—I've been in House Jade's employ for many years, and it keeps me very busy."
"I see." Satine seemed a little disappointed. "I guess you wouldn't be able to tell me much about it, then, would you?"
"Oh, I could. My information just might be a little out-of-date is all." Peter chuckled. "I can tell you, though, you would be more than welcome to visit." He glanced at Everett before adding, "If you ever get to go to Corvus."
"Oh, um..." Satine frowned, also glancing at Everett and noting that he looked rather cross. "That could be nice, but..."
"I'm sure she'll have the chance, one way or another," Everett said, again forcing himself to calm down. Do NOT lose your temper, he reminded himself. Even if your advisor IS being publicly overbearing... rngh.
"Yes. One way or another," Lord Sylk added, sounding amused. "Perhaps sooner than we may think, Lord Jade?"
He couldn't take it anymore. He could feel his frustration getting the better of him, and he was not about to lose his temper in front of House Arach on a diplomatic visit. He desperately needed to calm down, but this nonsense was only aggravating him further.
"I... maybe," he said with a strained sigh, abruptly standing and turning for the exit. "Please excuse me for a moment."
"Er, what?" Lord Sylk blinked in confusion. "Is something wrong, Lord Jade?"
"No, I... I just need a moment," Everett replied vaguely. "Please, proceed without me."
"Should I accompany you, my lord?" Peter asked, concerned.
"No," Everett insisted—more firmly than he intended, but it was too late now. "It's fine. I'll be back in a moment."
He left the dining room without another word, tuning out the others' reactions. He didn't have the time to deal with that; he just needed somewhere to sit and collect his thoughts for a moment.
Near the dining hall was a large window that overlooked the ocean, with a large statue of the Grandmother Spyder beside it. Everett decided it was a decent enough place to rest, so he took a seat on the base of the statue, looking out the window thoughtfully for a moment before bowing his head in silent prayer.
It had been nearly two years now, since Cassandra died. Logically, it should have been enough time to get over it and move on, but emotionally, it was far too short. Cassandra had meant so much to him, and now with his advisor practically throwing this new woman at him, it felt so... insensitive.
You know he means well, Everett, he reminded himself. It's for the good of House Jade. You have to try. You have to move on...
"Lord Everett?"
It was Satine's voice. Of course Satine had followed him out here. Everett sighed, looking up at her with a weary expression. "Did your father send you?"
"I came of my own choice. I was worried about you," she told him, taking some careful steps closer. "Are you alright, my lord? I'm sorry if we've been causing you discomfort..."
"No, it's not... I mean, I just..." Everett pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. It was hardly Satine's fault—in fact, it was clear from her demeanor at the dinner that she was at least as uncomfortable as he was. It wasn't easy for either of them, being forced into an awkward political situation like this. And yet...
This is your chance, Everett, he told himself. Just... talk to her. Get it over with.
Finally, he let out a deep breath. Here went nothing. "...I assume that you're... aware of the situation currently facing House Jade?"
Satine was silent at first. And then, "Do you mean... that you need to marry?"
"Yes. To remarry," he added, more emphatically than he was intending. Great, his temper was still getting the better of him. He took another deep breath, trying to force himself to calm down. "I assume you also know that my advisors have suggested I consider, well... you."
Again, Satine wasn't sure what to say at first. Then, cautiously, she took a seat beside him. "...My father mentioned something of it, yes."
"Of course he has. My advisor arranged this whole meeting without telling me." Everett scowled. He hadn't meant to say that either—dear 'Woo, why was it so hard to calm down? "...I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude."
"It's alright," Satine said simply. "You were married before, weren't you?"
Everett sighed. "Yes."
"And you really miss her, don't you?"
Everett's scowl faded, his eyes glazing over with distant thought. He had always known he was to marry Cassandra. His whole life, she was meant for him, confirmed further when they properly met: she was compassionate, intelligent, beautiful... in many ways, he considered her his best friend. It was everything he had ever hoped for in a wife, really.
They were so happy together... and then, suddenly, she was gone.
"...Yes," he finally replied.
"I'm sorry. It's not easy losing someone you care about," Satine spoke sympathetically.
"I just..." Again, Everett sighed. He wasn't sure he should be discussing this so openly, but at the same time, it had been a while since he had someone to listen. "...I don't know how I can ever replace her."
Satine frowned, thinking on this. And then, taking the chance and disregarding political etiquette, she carefully placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Everett was startled at first, but then relaxed. Her touch was gentle, soothing even... and surprisingly not unwelcome.
"You can never really replace someone you love," she told him. "Even with someone new, you will always love her. I realize that, and I wouldn't ever ask of you otherwise."
Everett looked over at her, his eyes meeting hers. She did have lovely eyes, which shone with a kind sincerity telling him that she meant every word. His own expression wavered with uncertainty. That was a very thoughtful sentiment, something he hadn't expected to hear. Did she really, truly mean it?
"But... I know she wouldn't want you to throw away your House's future for her sake," Satine added, giving a gentle smile. "And she wouldn't want you to be unhappy, either."
Everett was silent at first, thinking on this. Satine wasn't Cassandra, and she never would be, but she was so kind, so genuine... looking at her, he could feel emotions welling up within him he hadn't felt since Cassandra died. It was strange for him to even consider it, but maybe, just maybe...
"...You... you worship the Spyder, right?" Everett asked eventually. "If you were to marry into House Jade, you would be expected to worship Lord Woo."
Satine shrugged. "I do respect the Spyder, but Lord Woo is a good god. I'd gladly pay my respects to him."
Given their interactions thus far, Everett wasn't terribly surprised by the response. He couldn't deny that she was one of the most considerate people he had ever met, going out of her way to make sure that those around her were happy. She would probably make a good mother... and, admittedly, a good wife.
Slowly, he gave a slight smile. "Maybe... maybe it could work."
Satine smiled back at him. "I would be honored if you chose me. But I wouldn't wish to force you; it is your choice."
"Yes, of course, I would have to think about it," Everett agreed, clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure. "But you do seem to be a very nice person."
"Thank you," Satine replied. And then, after a moment, "Do you think you feel well enough to return to dinner now? I'm sure the others are worried."
"I suppose so," Everett admitted, standing up again. "And... thank you. For listening."
"I'm glad I could help." Satine smiled, standing up also. "Come on, then, let's go."
Everett smiled back at her, and the two of them went together back to the dining hall. Everett was still nervous about remarrying, he wasn't ready to put Cassandra behind him, but... maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all. |
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Post by PFA on Feb 7, 2015 12:29:11 GMT -5
Have more Jade family backstory \ o / Well, the same backstory. BUT MORE OF IT LifeTo say that Lord Everett was nervous would be an understatement.
"Everett," Satine had said to him, months prior to this day, "we're going to have a baby."
It was wonderful news that filled him with incredible joy, but also with incredible fear. He had never been a father before, but not for lack of trying—he and his first wife, Cassandra, had been trying for a child for three years before she finally conceived. It was a miracle... but it didn't last.
The look on the midwife's face when he got the news still haunted his nightmares. Cassandra gave her life for an excruciating childbirth, but it all amounted to naught. A beautiful baby boy, brought into the world for only a few seconds before being taken away again. He would have been named Eduard, after his grandfather. He would have been the heir to House Jade, could have gone down in history as a great man. He might have even been a great mage, bringing magic back to the House... but now they would never know.
The memories played through Everett's mind on endless repeat. As much as he tried to convince himself that everything was fine, that this time would be different, every passing second only worried him further. He was probably wearying Lord Woo with his constant prayers for her safety, for the child's safety, but it was all he could do to keep himself from panicking.
Please let her be alright, he thought to himself, over and over. Please let the child be alright...
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of footsteps caught his attention. He turned to see who it was, greeted with the familiar sight of Satine's midwife. His heart could have pounded out of his chest if not for the expression on her face. She was smiling.
"She's alright, my lord," the midwife said, knowing to quell his fears immediately. "As is your son."
Everett was relieved to hear the words, but it took him a moment to really process the information. Could... could it really be true? They were alright, he finally had a son? He took deep breaths, trying to work through the surge of emotions that overcame him. It wasn't like last time. It would be okay.
"Would you like to see them?" the midwife asked, distracting him from his thoughts.
"I... yes, please," Everett replied immediately.
The midwife smiled and nodded. "Follow me."
His heart was still pounding, a hint of doubt still present in his mind as he followed her to the room. But that was all dispelled when they arrived—there was Satine on the bed, looking very exhausted, but still alive. And in her arms... a beautiful baby boy.
"You... you're okay," Everett said, little more than a whisper. He cautiously stepped forward, slowly making his way to her bedside. "You're okay..."
"Yes, I'm fine," Satine replied, smiling down at the child in her arms. "And so is our son."
Everett followed her gaze, staring in awe at his infant son. The tiny child, so tender and fragile... but alive. Satine smiled, offering the baby so Everett could hold him in his arms. Everett took the child carefully, stroking the tiny strands of hair emerging from the baby's head. The child wiggled slightly under his touch, his tiny eyes fluttering open to look up at his father for the first time.
"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Satine asked.
Everett was silent, lost in a wave of emotions. After all the loss, after all the pain and heartache he had to go through, here he was, with his own offspring resting in his arms. A baby boy, one who would one day grow up to take his place as Lord of the House. But most of all... a child he could call his own.
"He's perfect," Everett finally uttered, tears of joy welling up in his eyes. "I... I couldn't ask for anything more."
Satine smiled warmly, wrapping a loving arm around her husband. "So, I believe we discussed Joffery as a name?"
"Joffery," Everett agreed. "I like Joffery."
Satine nodded. "Then Joffery it is."
Little Joffery cooed slightly, as if pleased to be given a name. The three of them just sat there for a while, cherishing the moment. Finally, the pain of the past was behind them, and they could look forward to a bright future. |
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Post by PFA on Feb 8, 2015 16:54:05 GMT -5
...And then suddenly, tragedy struck. Again"She's dying, my lord."
They were words that Lord Everett had been hoping he would never hear. He knew that Satine's illness was bad, she had been ill for weeks before it ultimately left her bedridden, but... no. This couldn't be happening.
"There... there must be something you can do?" he asked, his voice cracking despite struggling to keep his composure in front of the healer.
"We've done everything we can," she replied sadly. "I'm afraid the illness is too strong."
Satine may have been the one who was sick, but Everett felt like he couldn't breathe. This couldn't be real. She had been so healthy, she'd recovered from illnesses before, the healers could always heal her before... where did they go wrong? This wasn't supposed to happen. Not again.
The healer frowned sympathetically, silent for a while. And then, "...She wanted to speak with you, my lord. And the children, too."
Everett didn't respond at first, trying to regain his bearings. As much as he didn't want this to be real, as much as he didn't want to see Satine at her worst, he would regret it forever if he didn't take this chance. "...Alright."
"I'll fetch the children," the healer said, hurrying on her way.
Everett took a deep breath, praying to Lord Woo for the strength to endure. When he'd married Satine, he was sure things would be different. She had given him six beautiful children, she was so healthy, she wasn't supposed to die.
And yet, here they were. Satine was going to die, just like Cassandra.
Come on, Everett, pull yourself together, he scolded himself inwardly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't know how much time he had, after all. So without further delay, he made his way to the bedroom where Satine was resting, where she would lie to rest forevermore.
---
It wasn't long before the family was gathered into the bedroom, all save for two—Joffery, who was away on a diplomatic trip to Scorzen, and Caroline, who they decided was too young to witness her mother's death. The poor child would grow up without a mother, Everett realized, before immediately forcing the thought away. This wasn't the time to dwell on that.
Poor Satine was a sorry sight, lying on the bed for her strength was all but gone. Her skin, an unnatural sickly color, was drenched with sweat. Despite her fever, her body was shaking, as if she was cold.
"Satine..." Wasting no time, Everett moved to the bedside, kneeling beside his ailing wife. "Satine, I... I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Everett," Satine replied. Her voice was weak and raspy, barely audible but there. "It's not your fault."
"If there were only something more I could do," Everett insisted. "If we had better healers, or if we had done something sooner, or..."
"You've done everything you could," Satine interrupted. "Please don't blame yourself for it."
Everett didn't respond. There was silence for a moment, before Satine shifted, trying to see past her husband.
"My children," she spoke weakly. "I want to see my children."
"We're here, mother," Reynold replied. He moved closer to the bed, beckoning his siblings to follow. "We're here."
Satine smiled faintly, watching the four children line up beside the bed. After a moment, the smile shifted to an expression of concern. "Where's...?"
"Caroline is... she's with the caretakers," Everett explained. "Joffery hasn't returned from Scorzen yet."
"I see... I guess that's fair." The smile returned to Satine's dry, chapped lips. "I'm still happy to see you. My beautiful children..."
With considerable effort, she reached a hand toward Reynold, who took it in his own as soon as he realized what she was doing. This comforted her, as she took the time to cherish the warmth of his hand against hers.
"Mother..." Reynold started, his eyes filling with tears.
"I love you, Reynold," she told him. "You'll be a great man someday. You're special, too—never forget that."
Reynold was silent, thinking on this. Satine took the time to share some tender moments with each child present, sharing parting words with them one by one. Everett could only watch in silence, realizing the reality of the situation. This was it. These were the last words the children would ever hear from their mother.
"Everett."
He looked up, the voice distracting him from his thoughts. Satine was looking at him with tired eyes, and an equally tired smile. Seeing her like this... the pain was indescribable, but at the same time, he couldn't bear to look away. This was the woman who'd been by his side for seventeen, almost eighteen years, who'd helped him get over the pain of losing Cassandra. The woman he'd come to care about at least as much.
"I... I don't know what to say," he finally uttered, his voice cracking.
"It will be okay, Everett," she replied. "This isn't the end."
"I..." Everett swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't want to lose you."
With what little strength she had left, Satine reached out to touch Everett's hand. It startled him, though it wasn't unwelcome. Her touch was shaky, weak... but gentle, just like it always was.
"We will meet again," she breathed.
And then, silence. She passed without another word, slowly but in relative peace.
The Lord of Embers didn't usually cry. But this time the tears flowed freely, and he didn't even try to stop them.
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No no no no no NO...
Joffery had gotten back from his diplomatic trip just in time to hear the horrifying news—his mother was terminally ill, about to lie down in her grave. No sooner had he been told than did the young Jade break into a sprint, racing down the halls of Jade Manor to his parents' bedroom. This couldn't be happening. Please, 'Woo, please tell him this wasn't happening.
It wasn't long before he reached the doors, ignoring all the rules of etiquette and throwing them open. Sure enough, there was his mother lying on the bed, with his father crouched beside it, clutching her hand and shaking slightly. His siblings, save his youngest sister, stood on the opposite side of the bed, looking up at him with grave expressions as he entered.
But as for his mother, she didn't move at all.
"...Mother?" Joffery whispered, tears welling up in his eyes.
No response. Just the sound of his father's tears, as his mother lay on the bed, pale and lifeless.
...No... Joffery stood frozen on the spot, his blood running cold. I'm too late. I'm too late...
Seeing Joffery's grief, his sister Luella moved away from the bed so she could wrap him in a consoling hug. There were no words to be said, just meaningful silence as Joffery bathed his sister's hair with his tears. |
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