Tudor MercWench Smith

Phil, you make me laugh and blush at one time!

Hey that does sound nice! Will you be out at the festival to give me a tour as well? This could be a full service operation! Well, not to shill again, but I work a clothing booth at the faire . . . so come and see me there too!!!! So sure! I am the hook up at both ends!!

Should be working it, so I'll be there every weekend . . . so let me know what days y'all are going to be there.

She nodded in respect at the captain's approach, but kept for the most part silent, for the first few moments, then seemed to bring herself to attention. "Is there something you needed, sir?" She asked, an apologetic cast to her tone, for not premeditating any orders.

Not to be a shill or anything - but the hotel I work at is only 45 minutes away and we are one of the offical innkeepers of the faire - therefore, discount tickets available! Plus - you'd get to be checked in by me!!!

It was still raining as Tudor wandered the deks. She didn't mind. The gentle dropping of water against her skin relaxed her slightly as she wandered aimlessly, making sure to keep out the way.

Yeah - so . .. I got the emails in my yahoo account. Opened them, but not the link, didn't seem to catch anything from that. I knew they were nasty before I even looked at them, because . . . I happened to toast one of the work computers when, during a lull in our hectic day, I went to check in at the pub and a pop up came up that was trying to download something, then wouldn't close when I frantically clicked on the close button and the whole enclada would only close after I ctr+alt+dlted a few times to bring up the control panel. No sooner had I done that then a nice, scary spy-ware alert popped up, saying that the computer was infected. But it wasn't just spywear . . . . can we say big nasty virus, that looked like a horse (i.e seemed to be the Trojan Virus) Thank God for my Front Office Manager and tech support. my manager spent hours getting that damned thing fixed AND he didn't squeal to my GM or the Controller. If he had, my ass would have been grass. I hadn't come back to the pub in over a week, afraid it might crash whatever computer I was on . . . but finally I braved it out. Here's to hoping that the hacker that decided to do that choked on his millionth bag of doritos and is slowly being eaten by the rabid mice in his shit-heap appartment. . . .. Just remember folks, being a computer nerd is a gift - the question is, are you going to use your power for good, or for evil!

Even hours later, Tudor's mind was still in the galley, even though she had long since returned to her closet. The cooks words stood out the most. "Share your thoughts with us". At the time she had mearly shared some light anticdotes from the day. She had been ignoring her own thoughts for quite a while. Far too long, it seemed. She reviewed the past few days, and realised that she had been performing her duties with little to no thought process, simply going through routine. But soon, they would be on land again, and habitually bringing the captain food, and clearing away, and organising logs, and letters, and notes would not suffice. Not if she wanted to be at all useful. Slowly she dozed into a fitful slumber, cursed by odd dreams. Not soon after first falling asleep, She woke herself up, and swore silently. She never had dreams any more. Silently she left her small chamber, quietly making her way to the decks. Maybe another late night stroll would clear her mind.

The ward room was empty for the first time in hours. Tudor had been keeping up on clearing out dishes as she could, but with the flurry of activity and the constant coming and going of various crew and officers, there was still some considerable mess to clean up before she could retire. She sighed as she loaded up the last tray of dishes to be taken back to the galley, and lifted it, balancing it on her hip, slowly trudging for the galley. It had been a long day and she looked forward to rest. Upon reaching the galley, she was a greeted with the sounds of mirth and conversation. Inside, she saw a small number of her crewmates sharing stories over tea. They hailed her as she entered, and she smiled wearily, setting down the dishes. After much cajoling from those assembled, she agreed to join the small party that was gathering there. As much as she needed rest, she also needed the camradiere. It kept her mind from wandering. Finding a nice sized barrel, she sat herself upon it, accepting the tea Woodington offered her.

After clearing away the ward room, Tudor made her way topside, searching out the Captain for new orders. The chaos she found on deck assailed her senses. Not only was the turbulent weather itself causing a certain amount of frenzy, but the image of the quatermaster and a recently retrieved corpse was causing a certain amount of exctiment. She approached the captain over at the rail, eyes taking in every detail around her. "Any orders, sir?" She said, after a perfunctory curtsy, her soggy curls swaying.

"Afternoon, Mr. Gage." Tudor greeted the cook as she made her way into the galley, to which he looked up and nodded to her. With ease of familiarity, Tudor made her way around the room retrieving a tray and tankard, filling the one with fresh brewed coffee. With a smile, Gage handed her a plate of food filled to capacity with fresh fish, potatos and a few fresh baked biscuts. With a nod of thanks, Tudor finished filling the tray, and headed towards the captain's cabin.

Tudor took a moment to look up from the charts and soundings log spread out on the make shift desk and casted her gaze over the glassy pane of water, and the small series of islands it surrounded. She closed her eyes and enjoyed one of the gentle breezes that brushed past her face and mussed her hair. She sighed in a sort of melencholic contentment as she listened and watched the crew in action, working the rigging, prepairing the ship. The noise of the crew calling to eachother, of working in syncopation, sounded in her head like the epitome of life. "Miss Smith!" Mister Badger's voice finally broke through her reverie, after having to repeat himself more then once. After voice a simple apology, Tudor looked down at the quill in her grip, and quickly made a notation of the current sounding.

Well, now that it looks like my summer trip to england might be cancelled, I have better chances of heading south in November . . . need to start figuring out what I am doing I think!

*drooooool* Seriosuly, when I get married - stretch minis all the way!!!!! That is toooooooo freaking awesome!!! Thanks guys. Just to let y'all know - coffee went well. T'was good fun.

everyone - wish me luck - I have a quote-date-unquote tonight!!! I need booze, a facial and some new clothes . . . but for now, the booze will suffice!!!

Helping Callie keep her balance after her slight disorientaion after the captains rebuke, Tudor smiled grimly, leading the young girl below. "Don't let your first run in with the Captain scare you much. He's a good captain . . . there must be more going on then we ouselves are aware of. C'mon, keep up, I'll show you were to bearth yourself." She said, cursing her own distraction. "How on earth did you sleep through all the fracas anyway?" Tudor asked, the thought finally occuring to her. She looked to Callie, who just wore a look of confusion as to what 'fracas' meant.

Tudor smiled to herself. "Fiesty one, aren't ya?" She asked, still chuckling to herself over Callie's threats of death. "Just call me Smith, if ya like. Easier to remember. And don't feel bad - was mostly my fault for not showing you around proper. Here, grab your things and I'll show you where you can bunk." She said, and stood paitently to wait for Callie to recollect her bag that she had dropped.

Tudor had spent the last hour wandering the levels of the ship, trying to shut off her wandering mind. It wasn't until near to midnight when her path lead her onto the gun decks. Looking around, taking in every small detail of her surrondings, she started when something seemed out of place . . . it took her a moment, but she finally realised what was giving her pause. Slumped over between two of the 18-pounders, was a small, shabby figure. Tudor smiled when she recognised her stray. "Callie . . . Callie!" She said, shaking the young girl gently to wake her. "Wake up!"

too bad I don't have an MP3 player. I am always one step behind in the technical revolution.

all hail . . President Dances with Chipmunks

I must concur . . . the last good acting job Kirsten Dunst did was Interview With A Vampire . ..

GAoP clothing is really not as complicated as it looks and there are those that are willing and able on this list to help talk you through putting your kit together... and as for sewing it all by hand, what could be more period correct than that?! It's perfect! :) Oh, well yeah . . . for any actual costume or garb - I go as accurate as humanly possible for me. I have made a good percentage of my costumes, and would only use historically accurate patterns for them. But I really needed a new winter coat, and I really thought the simplicity pattern looked spifftacular, so I deicded to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Would never wear the thing to faire or a reenactment or the like. Wouldn't be proper - but it looks pretty snazy over a pair of black bondgage pants, a black chemise top and my dark purple corset. I goth up very well . .

dude!!! I love Blackmore's Night!! Excellent song!!!

She looked puzzled for a moment. "I don't know really -If I would still be in that life. Hmm." Tudor really pondered this for a moment. "Lord knows that I couldn't do what needed to be done to bring it to an end . . .so I suppose I might still be. I was rather forced out of it - but was forced into it too." She realised that she was babbling, then wrapped up her point. "It is very hard to live in a gilded cage that has been smashed, and everyone suspects you of murder." She said, an impish gleam almost entering her expression, but then she remembered the gravity of the situation. "Do? There is nothing to be done. You must go, I must stay. Simple as that. No regrets, no looking back. Take every day from your past and apply their lessons to the future." She said with a dejected shake of her head, then stood, no longer content to be sitting. She glanced at him quickly, then turned for the door, only hesitating to look once more at him over her shoulder. "Looking back," She said quietly.

She smiled weakily, as if exhausted from her rant. "It's a cage I lived in once for two years . . . but that is beside the point." She quickly cut herself off, finding herself trying to jusify and make excuses. "It's neither here nor there . . . we always knew our paths were crossing just for a moment, so to speak. Just, now that the moment is coming to end, I cannot get all the what-ifs out of my head. It has always been my weakness . .. in battle and in life." She sighed again and shrugged. "And so this is . . . the end?"