Tempest Fitzgerald

Sabastian raised a brow and smiled secretly while eyeing port decanter near standing. "Your offer is most appreciated, but I think you misjudge my status on this spit of land in tourquois sea." He reached for lone goblet, surveyed its' emptiness then filled concave. "Monsieur, even the puppet governor of this place calls to us with wants and needs. I fear no ride on three legged mare." He took deep draught and looked sidelong to where Sterling sat. "This is not Navarre and I am no longer what I was...Here a man can be king if one knows how to play the game...And I have well mastered the rules." Sabastian cast a thoughtful look to his kindred, " I would not have you place yourself in risk, monsieur...This bird is mine to snare and his pretty plumage stripped...He is the embodiment of all the ill memories of me and mine."

tress

Congratulations and warmest wishes to you both.

putrification

parasites

Sabastian's heavy footfall was heard as he strode by the chamber towards the back of the house. A slam of door reverbirated with strong clarity, an omen of things to come. Even with the distance between here and there, they could hear objects riffled and slung with viscious manner, bouncing of near distant walls and falling with finallity of thud to flooring. Megan was the vision of scared rabbit with each impact heard, her eyes wide and uncertain, as the last stays were afixed on Aurore's azure silk cladding. Aurore whispered words of reassurance to the girl and told her to stay in the room until more comfortable then moved to Sterling. "I know what his thoughts are...and they are not of reason. When I was a little girl an event happened that roused his ire almost to what it is now. He was brutally whipped for his actions and the issue was over a horse that time." Aurore had a far away look as she voiced partial thoughts, a crash of glass shatter emphisized emotions whirling like a typhoon's build unseen. Once again a door was heard abused on hinged support as it collided with wall and the assult of boot strike pummeled hall flooring. She glanced to Sterling, her expression a motley confusion as tender stroke was laid to his cheek...Then she stepped rapidly through the door. Angry protest was countered with plead for clearer thinking, back and forth in pendular manner so like bout in the Square. Then there was silence, a thing of disconcerting quality in wake of what had ocured in prologue. Door knob turned slowly and Aurore stood to the side, acting as usher to sanctuary. Fallen angel with broken wings entered the room, once proud bearing vanquished and morphed into something else entirely. Sabastian said nothing, but half glanced to Sterling as chamber was crossed and chair was taken. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, then swimming in twin pools was a wretching embodiment of pain, loss and sorrow....But deeper still, was pyre of desired vengence who's thirst would not be easily quenched. "I know who did this to my Mol..." he said icily, " And the regiments of Hell will not dare stand betwixt he and me when I dispatch his soul. They will instead sing my praises for returning one of their own back to the fold..."

Barristers

Christophe moved from wall support, taking care to keep startled woman under close scrutiny, for the numbness of suprise had left her manner. Unlike some, he would make no assumptions in regard to the "weaknesses" of the Fairer Sex. Woman, he had found with past experience, could be shifty creatures capable of unexpected action. A calculating femme could easily level the field where brute stregnth gave illusion of upper hand. Lilly gave no indication of fear, her overall vissage casting unspoken dare to the half dressed man afore her. And there was something about him that nagged her memory, something that screamed for realization. Christophe moved closer, making note of the immediate surround. The woman before him had few options at current disposal. She could try to scale the barrels, which would be a rediculous choice; perhaps try to squeeze through the small area of open between barrels and house exterior...But he doubted cumbersome layers of adorned taffata would serve her well. This ment trying to come towards him with hopes of dodging and retracing the route she had taken in... There was a sudden uproar around the front of the house, and he half listened to what echoed back to where they where placed in percarious stand off. She glared at him with smoldering defience and as if to needle her, Christophe offered wolfish smile while vissually caressing her form. It was not that he had any ill intentions for quary at hand, woman of Anglais origins always left him unsated. Nevertheless, appreciation of female lines could not be denied; and no Frenchman could ignore beauty rendered in any capacity. The chaos unseen continued to gain strength and her eyes where drawn away momentarily to its' thunderings. Christophe took the opening, moving swiftly to cut the distance of seperation and as her focus returned to the disturbance of motion, Lilly found herself lifted deftly and slung over the sinewy muscle of bare shoulder. Her protests could not have been called ladylike by any means, and as if to bring halt to rantings, Christophe hefted her to comfortable reposition causing expulsion of air from her lungs. His grip became iron vice, a betrayal of true qualities in regard to his slender build. Lilly began ranting again as his free hand searched the layers of fine cloth and retrieved hidden pistol. He ignored her struggles and attempts to kick, while securing the weapon in breeches waistline. "Truly, Madame...We could 'ave done this in a civilized manner." He gave mock sigh of dissapointment, "But it seems that you insist on the 'ard way." Lilly continued to kick, Christophe rolled his eyes and backed up to clear the barrel blockade. She managed to lay one well placed blow which paused his movement, a sharp slap was applied upon upturned bottom in return. The house's back door was achieved, entered and locked securely behind.

canine delight

squeezbox

Acadian

Sabastian sat like cumpled marionette in the middle of the salon, one arm swung wide on floor's surface and at it's end, dispatch clutched tightly in grasp. He said nothing, just gazed blankly at far wall and oblivious to those that stood near. One word circled his mind one looped track without answer, a continueous question; 'Why'. Jason shifted footing uncomfortably, remembering the palor of Franklin's face as dispatch was handed over. For it had been the large man's duty to check on fair maid and in turn, he who made the discovery which laid effect to this place. Jason hesitantly approached Sabastian and offered one more object; the single feather of inky hue...So familiar and now so dispised. Fallen prince rose slowly from the floor and scanned subjects with no hint of former guise. He left their company with not a word until mid way up stair's incline and what was said lay riddled with undertones of vendetta; coldly served without prejudice... "Saddle my horse..."

Le Mort

Sirens

Odessey

Odin

" I....", she stammered and struggled to gain composure. "Molly is...was 'Bastian's lover. She works at The Shipp in town and he has tried to get her to leave, wanted to take care of her." A fluid diamond broke over tender flesh levy to freefall. "Moll never hurt a living thing in her life, she was not like the usual sorts, plying double trade....Dear God, she was working honest trying to support her grandmother..." Another shake of head, "She was but seven and ten years aged and...and I do not know what you can do other than please stay near me." Aurore's large dark eyes reflected the turmoil of what was in her thoughts, and pleaded for understanding.

Muse

Aurore resisted the urge to shut it all out and return to pleasantries of his nearness. Leaning closer to the door, she continued to listen and try to give answer, but there were too many gray areas that could not be dismissed by the distance. The fast cadence of footstep sounded on the stairwell, coming to halt followed by urgent knock. The door was opened, revealing the timid form of Megan and the expression she wore spoke of bad omens and tragedy. Large tears rolled down her rounded young cheeks as she struggled to find words of convey. A deep stuttering breath was drawn in to tiny lungs, her face pinching with anguish, " Someun's done in Molly..." Aurore shook her head in negation, trying to dispell the announcement that hung the air like ill phantom. " I need clothing..." The small girl rushed to a room further down and dissapeared.

Sterling's touch and attentions had calmed her to lull, perfectly affable to allow his guidence. Aurore pressed against his warmth, mind numbed with a haze of content, but the urgent hail from outer world washed over such utopia; shattering fragile balance. Aurore's lithe form grew rigid in response to clarion call and she eased herself from him and to open window. Scraps of what was being said floated upward and she frowned at its lack of clarity. The sound of front door opening quickly drew her attention further and she crossed chamber's breadth to stand near portal, listening intently. A rush of feet, voices, queries.... " Something is wrong....Something has happened of ill nature..."

I have to agree with you on Factory Girls and the excerpt from the old song Whiskey On A Sunday included in it is such a nice touch. I don't think I can call it my favorite, but it is very well close to it. I am rather partial to Whistles the Wind and The Wrong Company.

Aurore's senses reeled even after being righted to firm footing. Inside a war waged over whether ears had played her for fool. Had he actually asked for consent of formal rituals? Her lungs felt tight and the territory that he was boldly suggesting travel too was as foriegn to Aurore as dinner with a Sultan. Like any semi wild creature, she considered the bait and possible tender trap beyond unseen...But for reasons beyond her understanding she met proposition with a word of accord. Sterling next query caught her off guard, she found it hard to formulate a proper summary of brother's dynamics and wiley ways. Moving away from him, she procured forgotten decanter of port and equally neglected goblets. The emptiness filled and one vessel handed to him, Aurore considered the quandry further before speaking. "Sabastian is very insightful and apt to test the waters or stir them to a boil. He has always been mischievous, it is simply inate nature. Sometimes I think it is do to a restlessness of his soul, for it seems that certain qualities have increased since we settled here. He would never admit it, but I think wander lust haunts him. Sabastian pushes away the past and yet clings to it. His testing me was to answer something in his private thoughts, it is just his way."

Rhoades Scholar

dumb

well spoken