Aurore Devareaux

He walked next to wagon horse, leading his own. This place was far from Navarre's familiar paths, but the texture of dirt road underfoot could be any place chosen on any cartographer's rending. Moving Point A to Point B, moving parallel to horse motion gave comfort and conjured memories of life left behind across the sea. Unlike younger sibling's, Andre' Devareaux could happily return to vargo life, but there was some satisfaction gained, some form of retribution achieved with every deal that was made, with every pact that was drawn...with every tithe that was paid. The sound of transport wagon's wheels rotation and grind over soil road lulled his mind, affording him some form of peace. It was a soundtrack to his thirty years survived and one that was relished fully as fine destilled spirit. Four riders followed in wagon wake, speaking quietly amongst themselves as the King of Beggar's Ball kept silent; his thoughts his own and rarely revealed. Buisness in Kingston had proven most prosperous and Andre' knew, beyond shadow of doubt, that young Lordling would beg service again. A hint of predatory satisfaction tickled the edges of Andre's mouth, such knowing of control and advantage was of richer sating than the profit itself. Up ahead, the road forked; one path would take company towards the cottage, the other further inland. Procession was brought to halt with simple gesture while Roi Gitan considered what suited his mood best. Creak of saddle leather and shift of shod hoof played backdrop to musings, then indication was made for the later break of turned soil bordered by cane existance. Eldest Devareaux had spent enough time within stucture confines, open sky parfumed with tropical scent was craved without disruption. Chosen encampment would be set, then one of the Four would be sent ahead to aquire information transpired in Leader's absence.

De Sade

Burke continued to evaluate the worth of leather case and what it might hold from half shadows dwelling in small by way. One never forgets their training, no matter how far they become removed from original teachings. Roberts moved away from younger to the warmer yellowed glow of lantern hang, his voice relayed with amused undercurrents. "Now then, me bully boy....Seems be a cumbersome bit o' reading fer a lad yer age. Not to be sayin' tha' ye don' have the wits to be understandin' such....But are ye sure tha' be the proper tales....Don' hear much callin' for it, trut' be told...." The Irishman hopped atop crowded desk to take seating, a mischievous smile glossing his expression. "Tell me, young master....Wha' it would be to set yer cravin' such a t'in'? Tryin' to impress the lasses are ye wit' words o' refine? Or be it somet'in' else....?"

vivant (libertine)

Burke and Roberts met eyes briefly as the boy entered the shop, it was a fleet of moment that spoke volumes in its' silence. This odd manner of communication was not such an anomoly to those in the trade; an understanding that could very well save one's hide under certain scenarios. The door was returned to closure as the young boy gave bold front of courage to captive audience. Calico gave inquiring look away from case inspection as young Sean bent cautiously near. A slight flush raced his cheeks in reaction to the scattering of glazier diamonds acting as courtiers to violin guardian. While youngster was busy with flustered thoughts, Irish duo slipped towards former chamber. As door was opened, Stockton was heard to address slayer of windows; politely giving query as to what service might be given. The reply given brought halt to sanctuary aquisition, drawing twin Celt attentions to focus on unlikely carrier pigeon... Merriweather cleared his throat in effort to ease jaggled nerves, his voice gaining certainty as it flowed into lamp luminated surround, "I would like to puchase a copy of...." he stalled fleetingly then gained assured progress. "Sir, I would like to purchase a volume of....Measure for Measure...Sir....Please." Henri Stockton's features gained quizical hint as glanced towards where he knew the other two would be lingering.

Time Warp

Closing her eyes to the tenderness of his touch, Aurore savored the render of silkened words. She was lost for reply, or perhaps it was an unwillingness to disturb the perfection of the momment. Life was too unpredictable, but at this brief blink of eternity's eye, the world seemed to spin on perfect axis and the great balance hung without list.

A mischievous glint played the rich hue of olive sights, "Then perhaps a goodly amount of practice should be tended to in order to assure years of satisfaction in such matters...."

Land of Flowers

She eyed him skepticly, "Truly....Selfish? Then perhaps I could be charged and convicted of such crimes, as well." Leaning closer, a kiss of deepest virtues was given.

His whispered greeting brought forth a small skip to heart's steadfast riff. Aurore frowned minutely as Sterling made to lift himself nearer, then gave in to body's clarion of warning. Landing heavily to cushioned give, a look of aggitation crossed his expression and she leaned closer with concern. A soft caress was laid to his cheek, dispersing scowl as she spoke softly. "Please relax, Sucre'....There is no need for gallant gestures."

race

xenophobe

The delivered decanter of brandy sat within easy reach, but had remained stationary for a passing of hours. The rain had finally given over its' rule, leaving behind gray cast skies and more tollorable temperatures. Aurore paused in reading of tome, listening to the soft intake and exhalation of Sterling's sleeping form while rhythmic drip of weather leavings fell from roof edge to fall haphazardly below. She laid book aside, shifting position carefully to gaze upon his face in gentle repose. The Brandy had proven its' worth ten fold in allowing relaxation to the heavy tension plaguing him not overlong ago in the past and color had slowly returned to his features. Aurore smiled in reaction to inner thoughts and wondered what he dreamed of while wandering the realms of Morpheus command.

Hera

Sean Roberts expelled a sigh of exasperation, "T'underin' Jays..." The case skitted to halt against table leg blockade and Calico lept to the floor en route to investigate intruder. Younger of Irish origins moved to the door and yanked it back, eyes narrowed to disturber's of peace. "Now wha' we go' here? Someone lookin' to stake a claim? Tis a dim shame ta be makin' arses o' yerselves in fron' o' a respectable fellah's livelihood." His eyes narrowed a degree more while centering on the Professor. "Tis a cryin' shame, sirrah....Me t'inks ye don' wan' to be rousing certin' parties, if ye know wha' I mean. Go on now an' take the lass, too." Sean's eyes fell on the boy, "Inside wit' ye, boyo..."

Saint

Henri Stockton paused in attentive care at the raise of voice semi-muffled by structure barrier. A glance sidelong was cast to hovering thieves nearby as plumage endowed wand was laid aside. Fortunately, the upper floor was currently vancant which ment if things became more harried, they could be quelled without query. Devon read Stockton's expression and set feline comrade down on near table. As he made to advance, elder man raised a hand of caution which promptly belayed further movement.

Jungle Reign

Buffalo Soldiers

Tennessee Walker

Stockton huffed then went back to dusting the volumes in his keep. Devon watched the interchange taking place on front stoop; chuckling at the pantomime display. The soft tread of boot scuff turned his attention to the back of room as Sean Roberts emerged from former placement. Quick glance was given to Stockton and Burke, then to the trio outside. "Now wha' we go' here?...Tha' Prof gain 'im an instan' family? There's a right bit o' it." Stockton shook his head in somewhat dissaproval; younger County Cork native brayed a roll of laughter.

Downs

Remembered that bit did you? mint jelup

Devon returned to selling floor, calico craddled in one arm. He was about to inquire what oddity Trilby was seeking currently when the interchange outside caught his attention. The Irishman inclined chin slightly in indication of newest arrival, eyeing the case protectively grasped. With mischief dancing pale blue eyes, Burke addressed Stockton in hushed tone. "Per'aps the lad there be searching fer a copy o' dat Frenchie's writin's, too."