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| A Hallway [1884] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 20 2010, 04:00 AM (499 Views) | |
| Damocles Faye | Sep 20 2010, 04:00 AM Post #1 |
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If he had been walking half a second slower, Damocles might have avoided bumping literally into a servant (a distraction he mostly ignored), and he might have avoided tearing her dress as it caught on a thorn in the garden (an atrocity he was sure to hear about). However, he definitely would not have entered the hallway at the precise moment Brandin did on the other end. His speed was therefore worth it, in Damocles' mind anyway. As he laid eyes on Brandin, Damocles came to a sudden stop: the man had immediately made his way down the hall and stopped in front of him fast enough that Damocles wondered whether or not he had simply appeared there. His adrenaline pounding through his blood, his voice was nonetheless steady as he reported, "Brandin. I saw her in the garden, she seemed to think I was a...a Russian soldier of some kind, who had taken occupancy in her house. She didn't know where she was, didn't remember her brothers..." His report of her amnesia however, fell way for a moment as he found that Brandin had made motions to want to carry her himself. Damocles arms tightened around Anastasia unconsciously, lifting her closer to his chest so her head rested over his heart. The metal traps in her gown and huge bush of fabric was trailing to the ground, but he had no intention of setting her down anywhere but a bed, whatever lectures he'd have to endure for the messy torn gown. "I can call for my Healer..." He had hardly said as much before Brandin was shaking his head, the expression virtually unreadable. |
![]() ...time is a valuable thing; watch it fly by as the pendulum swings... | |
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| Brandin Faye | Sep 20 2010, 04:25 AM Post #2 |
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Looking at Brandin's face, one would never be able to tell how aggravated, panicked, and worried the man was. His face was as ever stone, though his brow was etched permanently perhaps a centimeter higher. He was neither smiling nor frowning: his expression remained stagnant in between curiosity and boredom. It was the expression of a man in constant flux between a desire for understanding so strong he could not ignore it, and a mastered lesson of patience. It was the expression of a man trained not to betray the smallest of emotions, the expression of a man who was trained to observe those around him, and it was the expression of a man hiding who he was. Though he was annoyed with Parker's antics against taking medications (was he four years old now?), all thought of his brother was driven from Brandin's mind for the first time in a solid three weeks when he turned down the hallway and saw Anastasia in Damocles arms. A moment later he was at her side, listening to a firmly factual report of memory loss while his eyes traced over his friend's limp body taking account her pale and light stature, marked by dark shadows, purple flushes and a scarlet trace around her eyelids. Her make-up appeared to have sweated off, it's paint having dyed the hands of the man who held her. Brandin had been waiting for it. It came as no shock to him that she might be ill, when he had begun to put together certain slipped bits of information. His natural state as a voyeur had caused him to tick down certain facts. Last February, Anastasia's blood work had revealed to him her HIV positive state. He knew that meant she'd spent the last three weeks without medication, and he knew that it meant her child--the child the man in front of him could not be allowed to know about--was in constant danger. He had immediately, perusual, hastened to the library. There was, of course, nothing helpful in the shelves of an 1884 library about the management of the disease, let alone how to help with an HIV positive pregnancy--but there had been many accounts of procedures he knew, though he hoped otherwise, he would be required to know. Though his face creased in worry and he took a deep, steadying breath, Brandin knew his expression remained as ever unreadable as he made to take her from Damocles. Damocles all but refused out loud. Brow creasing further in worry, Brandin suddenly shook his head. "That won't be necessary." Brandin said simply, his mind racing to invent a necessary cover if Damocles questioned his certainty. "I can take care of her." Damocles looked as though he were about to interrupt, so Brandin continued, "I assure you if I need help, I will not hesitate to ask. Do not panic as of yet--any number of mild illnesses easily treated with a potion and spell can be heightened by lack of sleep and stress. I'm sure you agree both conditions would occur when one is worried about their brother's well-being? And when one drives their body that hard, all manner of tricks the mind will play upon our waking hours...one might forget their brother as easily as they become convinced they are living a hallucination. Rest, a potion or two...I have it from here." Yet Damocles was still not releasing her, though he had fallen into step behind Brandin as though indicating that he would take Anastasia himself to where-ever Brandin decreed no matter if he was convinced there was no need for another Healer or not. For the moment it was going to have to do. He turned, walking quickly down the hallway with Damocles behind him, until they were within the same infirmary as a slumbering Parker, laying her into the bed. As Damocles sat on the edge of her bed, Brandin cast a single worried glance at his back before busying himself with a potion for several minutes to allow Damocles his moment of moral support. After a little while, Brandin told Damocles firmly he needed to leave, so that she might rest. When Damocles looked at him--clearly angry and panicked--as though he were about to order he be allowed to stay, Brandin drew himself up further. His meaning of intimidation however, was not mirrored in his firm words. He would return to Anastasia's side, cast an Renervate and murmur in her ear while tucking strands of hair there as well that he had her--but to Damocles he had only a few, tough-love words. "It's my job, Damocles, to take care of her. And I will. Please let me." Damocles left the chamber with only his certainty for comfort. The trouble was, Brandin's certainty half walked out with him. |
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I am nothing more than A little boy inside That cries out for attention Yet I always try to hide Cause I talk to you like children Though I don't know how I feel But I know I'll do the right thing If the right thing is revealed | |
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| Rebecca Cowen | Sep 20 2010, 07:01 PM Post #3 |
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Rebecca had gone but two steps into the hall before she realized she had no idea which way to go. Rowland was awake usually before she was (she blamed that on Damocles), he was usually running around the manor performing various duties and chores (she also blamed that on Damocles) and although she knew he was awake (as they had only said good night perhaps fifteen minutes ago, thankfully not due to Damocles), she didn't have any idea where he slept. She didn't even know if he'd planned on going to sleep. Her heels squeaked as she rotated on them, running her hands up through her curls and tugging idly while she made a split second decision about went back the way she'd come. If she was going to search, she'd begin with where they'd said goodbye from the lake. Her palms rubbed idly against her cheeks as she walked, as though she were screwing up the skin in an attempt to force color back into them. Tears were being kept at bay by her scratching massage, her teeth gnawing into her bottom lip. Anastasia was in immediate danger; her panic and shock had not yet begin to thaw. As she turned into the hall, she suddenly saw a very familiar retreating back and her sharp intake of breath sounded like a hiss. She hurried, her hands falling to her skirts to lift them again, allowing her heels to clack in her tottering run, releasing a swish of fabric only to reach for Rowland's arm. "Rowland." She said it as quietly as possibly, though her distress had given her words a hysterical tone. "Rowland, I need...I need...you." Her hand tightened around his arm and she said hastily, "You can't tell. You...before I say anything, Rowland, promise me you won't tell." Her panicked wide-eyes sought his kind, chocolate brown as though searching for comfort from only a stare. The fact that she was about to reveal that she'd been lying to him all along gave her more pause than it should have--but it still paled in comparison to Anastasia's plight and the necessity of her mission. "Promise me." |
![]() your eyes whispered: have we met? this night is flawless: don't you let it go | |
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| Deleted User | Sep 20 2010, 08:16 PM Post #4 |
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![]() -NPC: Rowland Stone- Rowland was heading back to his quarters after what was arguably one of the best days he had spent in a long time. Had he really been depriving himself of enjoyment and merriment for so long because of the orders of a single family? Well, yes, but if they were going to be completely honest, any time spent with Lady Rebecca probably increased the enjoyment factor tenfold. He didn't even mind that tomorrow he was going to have to face the 'wrath of Damocles' for he could safely say that the excursion to the lake was definitely worth it. He was shaken out of his thoughts, however, as he heard a pair of heels making contact with the floor, and heading his direction. He turned to see a very distraught and frazzled looking Lady Rebecca coming his way. His mouth fell agape at the image, and his chest immediately constricted with worry. Had he not been so distracted, he would have paid a bit more thought on why exactly he was reacting in such a manner but for right now, that was a trivial matter that could and would be overlooked. "Rebecca?" He first questioned, simply before she reached him. He didn't bother with the title at that moment. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, hoping somehow that it would calm her down. He didn't have the vaguest idea of how to offer comfort, so he was relying on some odd innate instinct that had been previously been buried deep within. "Are you alright?" Her next words caused him to furrow his brow in confusion as well as worry. She was asking him not to tell, so obviously this was something of great magnitude. He was mildly flattered of her immediate trust for him, and did not hesitate for a second before he nodded and then assured her silently, "I promise." If there were any repercussions he had to deal with, well he would take it in stride. He had a way of getting himself out of any real trouble either way, and if he could be of any help to her, then he wanted to help. "What is wrong?" |
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| Rebecca Cowen | Sep 20 2010, 11:17 PM Post #5 |
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Frantic as she was, Rebecca's lips flickered into a ghost of a smile as he promised immediately. She might be trusting him, but he was trusting her as well--trusting her with himself. Without any indication what she might ask to him, without any request that she explain, he had promised his help, offered a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. Rocking slowly in his grip, she nodded without blinking once. Her gaze, wide-eyed and intent, remained trained on his eyes while she bit dry lips. Her throat wasn't wet either; in fact she appeared incapable of speech. The truth was, she almost wished he had said no: wished that she did not have to reveal her deception, wish she did not have to emerge as a liar and a fraud in front of Rowland of all people. The desire burning bright, she wet her lips -- angry with herself. There were more important things in the world. Anastasia and her child's safety being the most prominent at that particular moment. "It's Annie." She crumpled, her shoulders falling within his grasp as a tear fell from her eye, forgetting for a moment to speak her full name as opposed to the nickname. "She's...she's going..." There was a pause as she lifted the back of her palm to her lips, pressing a stop-gap out of habit, so as not to give them all away. A moment later, she dropped her hand, and came to a complete still. "She's going to give birth." Her eyes, so recently fluttering everywhere, met his gaze again firmly. "She's been...glamoring her pregnancy, because, because of what it would do to her social standing here, where we came from, it...look, I, I'll explain anything you want to know. But right now...right now, we--we, myself, Brandin, Anastasia--we need a place to go to deliver the baby, and we're...going to need help, Brandin's never done this before. And you said your mom...well I mean, you have a lot of brothers and sisters." She fell silent for a moment, her head shaking from side to side before meeting his eyes once more to add quietly, "I didn't know who else to ask." Her fear took over for a moment and although she did not doubt him she repeated, "I'll explain, I will, I promise. But right now we just need to go." The hand she had on his arm tugged with sudden urgency. |
![]() your eyes whispered: have we met? this night is flawless: don't you let it go | |
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| Deleted User | Sep 21 2010, 01:18 AM Post #6 |
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Deleted User
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![]() -NPC: Rowland Stone- Rowland waited for Rebecca to recollect herself, now a bit more calm because he had enough time to deduce that she herself was not in any immediate physical danger which oddly enough granted him some sort of weird comfort. He was sure it was bound to go away as soon as she started recounting exactly why she was so worried and panicking. But he figured that one of them had to exude peace and tranquility, in hopes of it being contagious. His 'optimistic naiveté' as it was dubbed by so many of his companions, was still present, and pretty strong. As Rebecca finally revealed why she was so worried, Rowland was at first a bit confused. He didn't know who this Annie was at first and he shook his head about to ask for a further explanation when it was supplied. He blinked and then exhaled, mouthing a small 'wow'. He shook his head, still entirely confused with the information he had just heard. Lady Anastasia was pregnant- is pregnant, and going into labor. Which means they have been lying since they arrived. Well, that certainly complicated things. It made him wonder what else they were hiding but pushing that thought away, he cleared his throat. And then with a quick and affirmative nod, he assured, "I'll help, my mother will understand. You can trust her." Because a common village peasant, she wasn't; she was the smartest person he knew. He also knew she could keep a secret; she had been keeping his for nearly all his life. "Right, let's go," he nodded again and walked forward with Rebecca as she tugged him along, keeping up with her pace. |
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