|
Post by Cosette de Manon on Apr 4, 2011 17:46:55 GMT -5
Messire Landis,
It is our highest hope that this missive finds you in good health. We are writing to inform you of your little blonde skillet-wielding peach and her utter disregard for propriety.
The beautiful little songbird refuses to sing. Or eat, or drink, or wear any of the beautiful dresses we've purchased for her. She is so ungrateful, really; what have you been teaching your servants? It's rather disgraceful, really; coming from the salon of a Mandrake, of all employers.
We've had to 'talk' some sense into her, and so we do hope that it hasn't... broken her in any way. The poor little tart's had to be tied up for our safety, she's given us such a struggle! She's rather feisty, and it will be great fun to break her further.
Feel free to send a reply missive with the young boy that's delivered this one; he'll wait while you compose.
Best to you, messire. Sincerely, Aleron
|
|
|
Post by Landis d'Ames nó Mandrake on Apr 4, 2011 19:06:50 GMT -5
The night before I had experienced the first good night's sleep that I hadn't had since this whole mess began. When the missive came at dusk, I assumed that it was from Cosette, informing me that she would come to my salon on the morrow.
I sat at my desk and read it, read it again, my skin as pale as chalk, read it thrice, my limbs shaking with rage.
They had her, damn it all to Hell! They had her!
It took all my self-control to keep my hand from shaking as I set quill to parchment and began to pen a reply:
Messire,
I am quite certain that my dear friend Cosette is a woman of impeccable taste and I fear that if your trinkets did not appeal to her than you must have little idea as to what things will please a woman. However, if she is so appallingly uncouth, please accept my sincerest apologies and know that I will gladly relieve you of her company.
Also, I must confess some concern regarding the content of your letter, some of which may be misconstrued as heresy. I feel I should inform you that heresy, as any good D'Angeline knows, carries a death sentence.
Landis
I signed the letter with a flourish and went to deliver it to the messenger boy, including a silver centime so that he would ensure that it safely reached its destination.
A single silver centime, the price I had asked of Cosette.
Dear gods, I prayed. Let her be well.
|
|
|
Post by Cosette de Manon on Apr 4, 2011 20:31:06 GMT -5
Aleron read the letter and simply laughed. It must have been the reply from Landis; I could just see my friend seething with rage. I stayed silent, knowing too well already the price of capitulation. All the same, the manacles that bound my wrists and ankles rattled as a shiver escaped me that I could not stop. The room I was locked up in was barren, with a simple wooden-planked floor and only a wooden, straight-backed chair. I was not in the chair, of course. I was chained up on the floor, the harsh iron cuffs already digging into my wrists and ankles, making them raw and sore. There was an anchoring chain attached to the manacles that bound my ankles so that, even when I was alone in the room, I could go nowhere but the distance the chain afforded me, which was scant. The room was freezing cold, or so it seemed when one was dressed in naught but a shift. The door locked from the outside only and the only windows were very high up, so high that one would have had to stand on the chair simply to reach them. Right now, though, the windows were dark and only a few candles illuminated the room.
Aleron glanced at me and I shrank away from his gleaming eyes and leering grin. "Ah, pretty songbird," He said to me, a cruel thing that made my heart ache to think of my mama's name for me. He'd left me in naught but my shift, my dress having been rent from my body and ruined in the haste of his first time abusing me. I hadn't eaten out of pure spite to him, figuring that if I died, he'd have no use for me anymore and would be back at square one. He strolled easily over to me, crossing the space in a heartbeat, and slapped me hard across the face before he gripped my chin ruthlessly hard in his hand and turned my face up to his. "Your friend Landis seems to think that you are a woman of discerning tastes," He scoffed. "As if whores have tastes other than for cock. Isn't that right, harlot?" He sneered at me. I said nothing, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing any pain or weakness from me. I thought of Ansel, I thought of him on purpose for the first time in weeks, and the memory of his love gave me strength. Ansel....
"He says also that I know not what pleases a woman. But you're no lady, are you? No, not at all. He also says," Aleron continued in his condescending tone, "That I am implying heresy. Now, why would he say that?" The pressure against my jaw was growing harder and harder, becoming painful. I would bruise from his grip on my face. "Heresy only occurs when the woman doesn't want the sort of attention that I'm giving you. But whores always want this sort of attention, or else they wouldn't be whores. Isn't that right, little songbird?" He said, his teeth gritted in a cold smile, his eyes dead and lacking in any emotion.
He shoved me hard, the hand that was on my jaw pushing hard so that my neck was wrenched. I fell backward, the back of my head connecting with the hard wooden floor hard enough to make me see stars, and I knew then what he intended to do yet again as his fingers went to his breeches. I stayed silent and dazedly willed the gods to make it as quick as possible.
There was nothing I could do about the pain.
|
|
|
Post by Ansel Roux on Apr 5, 2011 20:40:53 GMT -5
Dusk was falling again and that meant it was time to seek what justice could be done on Elua's streets. I made sure my parents and sister were occupied before I left and went to my secret place to change into my maroon and black attire, silently wishing for armor again. Of course there would be no armor til I was working, which made me wonder why Andy had not given me word. I shrugged my shoulders and put on my cape. Suddenly I felt emptiness. I know exactly what the cause was as soon as it creeped up on me.
Cosette.
It had been weeks since I saw her and I still couldn't believe that she had simply left. She wouldn't talk about it or anything. I had suspicions of where she might be what she might be doing. For the most part though I simply wished to stop thinking about her. Of course that wasn't easy, especially not tonight. I didn't want to confront her, not now, but I wanted to know that she was alright. It came to my memory that she had a friend, a Mandrake who had a salon of his own. Perhaps he knew something about her.
Silently and across the rooftops I walked til I came apon the place. L'Agonie. Oddly I found myself wondering what Coco and I could've been, since I found myself desiring something a little sharper.
I knocked on the door, knowing that I might have to react quickly. It isn't often that a masked man with a whip comes to call. But then again, he was a Mandrake.
|
|
|
Post by Landis d'Ames nó Mandrake on Apr 6, 2011 9:23:03 GMT -5
Mere moments after I had sent the messenger boy on his way, a knock sounded at the door.
What now? I wondered as I rose and went to answer it, unlocking it just so I could open the door a crack and secure it quickly if my visitor turned out to be a threat of some sort.
I was certainly not expecting to see a masked man in maroon carrying a whip.
My first thought was that one peer or another was holding a fete that required attendees to wear outlandish costumes, but I could not think of an occasion that would justify such a revel. Perhaps a natal fete?
"May I help you, Messire?" I asked, signalling to one of the servants to fetch Samael--if indeed he was not already on his way. There was the possibility that he was one of Aleron's agents, but I would give the man the benefit of the doubt and assume that he would not be so daft as to send someone who was so glaringly inconspicuous.
|
|
|
Post by Samael Basmala on Apr 6, 2011 11:23:44 GMT -5
I was not sure if the servants liked me more or less after my job in the employ of Messire Landis had been made somewhat clearer to them. I rather something deeply rooted in their D'Angeline nature abhorred passionless violence; they understood that which came from love of country, life and limb, but I saw no such understanding for simple greed.
Ah, well, if the gods would but allow them to remain such innocents.
I was putting my princess back in her stall after her afternoon exercises when a servant came to bid me attend Messire Landis. I'd hear someone come to his door, but I had not expected trouble to come calling so early.
I crossed the yard and slipped past the chattering crowd in the kitchen, ignoring their momentary lull as I moved through, biding Messire Landis' call. I imagined he'd be at the door or at his receiving room, and so I headed in that direction.
|
|
|
Post by Ansel Roux on Apr 6, 2011 11:36:05 GMT -5
I nodded to the man and stepped inside, true without invite, but I wasn't thinking of propriety per say just then. "I'm looking up a friend of mine who I haven't seen in quite some time," I answered in a near whisper; my voice containing the slitest hint of a hiss. "Her name is Cosette de Manon. She's a lovely flower, blonde, an expression of innocence. She mentioned you once and I thought you might know her whereabouts." I glance around me at some of the tools of the man's trade and wondered what they would feel like on a criminal's flesh.
|
|
|
Post by Landis d'Ames nó Mandrake on Apr 6, 2011 11:46:28 GMT -5
My eyes narrowed at the mention of Cosette, trying frantically to recall whether she had mentioned such a gentleman before. She had, I thought, but I would have never guessed her tastes ran to someone so...flamboyant.
Then again, she had made my acquaintance.
"I will spare you the pleasantries and get to the point," I said, holding up the copy of the missive that I had just received. "It appears that Cosette has been abducted. In fact I have just sent a reply to this with a messenger boy." I replaced the scroll, catching sight of Samael as I turned. Good, now perhaps we could put some sort of plan into motion.
"If you are a friend of hers," I continued. "Then help me find her. 'Twas her association with me that led to her abduction, and I intend to put things to rights."
|
|
|
Post by Samael Basmala on Apr 6, 2011 12:19:51 GMT -5
There was no threat in the air, no fear or menace, but there was tension to both of the men. I paused a step or two behind Messire Landis, listening, saying nothing, trying to get the measure of the masked man. Masks were for raiders and bandits, but I very much doubted that was the case for the stranger.
I could only catch the very end of Messire Landis' words; ah, so the gutter-trash had done what any other such might, and struck at someone who couldn't defend themselves. Spite and greed; poor combination. Pity; I'd rather liked the skillet-wielding lady's spirit.
Well, I could only guess that a reckoning would be coming to the gutter-trash; such is the payment when you gamble on the darker side of life. I stood and waited for the men to decide on a course of action, or for Messire Landis to dismiss me. I did not think he would.
|
|
|
Post by Ansel Roux on Apr 6, 2011 14:39:29 GMT -5
Abducted.
The word made my eyes grow wide behind my mask and my fingers grip the end of my whip tightly. Whoever they were I wanted to kill them. "How many are there? If we went now none of them would know what happened," I said, the anger in my voice at the brutes clear as the hiss became a clear growl.
|
|
|
Post by Landis d'Ames nó Mandrake on Apr 6, 2011 15:02:25 GMT -5
I held up a hand. "Calm yourself, if we all rush in at once we will be food for the worms by dawn." I turned to Samael. "I want you to go with him, find where the vipers have their nest, and then..." I paused. The three of us--no, two, I was no warrior--would scarce be a match for gods knew how many cutthroats. One of us would need to fetch the city guard.
"I will go and fetch a guard or two." I continued. "We cannot simply go about sowing mayhem unless we wish to be locked up in a dungeon somewhere, and I guarantee you it will not be like my dungeon."
I turned to Samael. "I know you have few qualms regarding the spilling of blood, but I would prefer to do this in as lawful a way as possible." Here I glanced at our costumed friend. "I would also appreciate it if you kept him from doing anything rash. He is obviously angry and angry men tend to act like fools..."
|
|
|
Post by Ansel Roux on Apr 6, 2011 20:38:21 GMT -5
I shook my head at the man. He didn't know who I was. He would learn by the end of the night. "Rash? If a man like ,me let his emotions get in the way you'd hear of a lot more deaths in Night's Doorstep. I cannot bear the suffering of the innocent. But I do have a head on m shoulders," I said cooly, the subtle hiss returning to my voice, masking any signs of my normal drawl. "We should have some plan, but instinct is often the best thing, and we don't have all the time in the world."
|
|
|
Post by Landis d'Ames nó Mandrake on Apr 6, 2011 22:44:04 GMT -5
I glared at the man. "Forgive me, Messire, but I do not know you. I trust my bodyguard, however." I nodded to Samael. "I shall fetch the guards, whatever you," I turned to the masked man again, "intend to do, do it quietly. Stealth would appear to be the order of the day, gentlemen, with minimal bloodshed."
I ascended the stairs to my private chambers, moving to where I kept the tools for my own personal use, to the armoire where I kept the velvet case which held the razor sharp flechettes. I took the two largest ones into my boots. I did not completely disregard all of my father's teachings.
Once I had finished my business upstairs, I rejoined the two men downstairs. "I am as prepared as I will ever be." I informed them. "I sent a messenger boy along but moments ago, I doubt his trail is still warm, so how do we find these...concerned citizens?"
|
|
|
Post by Ansel Roux on Apr 6, 2011 22:54:16 GMT -5
I was laughing outrageously on the inside. He was talking to me about stealth? I shook my head as he went downstairs. I had my whip, twin daggers in my belt and a spare in my boot, the large crossbow strapped to my back and the smaller one resting on my hip. I was ready for this fight.
"Ready," I hissed.
|
|
|
Post by Cosette de Manon on Apr 6, 2011 23:11:45 GMT -5
Aleron was getting impatient. I could tell, because he abused me more and more often as the hours wore on. I had been largely unharmed at the start of this little soiree, but now I was being abused harder, and my body showed it. I could feel the split in my slightly swollen bottom lip, my eye socket ached and throbbed from where he had connected his fist solidly into it, my wrists were raw and bloody from where I had struggled to slip my small hands through the iron manacles whenever Aleron was out of the room. There was blood from the lascerations his ring had made on my cheek when he struck me backhanded, and blood on my body from where his flechettes had done dirtier work. He knew better than to mar my skin; I would be unattractive then, and unwanted.
"I know they'll come for you," He murmured to me as his hand closed around my neck. "He will want his whore, his precious little plaything." His eyes had taken on a bit of a sheen, and they were wide and wild. Crazed. He spent most of his time in the little room with me, pacing and muttering to himself, and had put the chair up under the knob. I had rolled my eyes a bit at that; I remembered the man Samael. That chair may as well have been a feather.
I was on my back once more before I had time to blink, my shift hiked up to better bare me to his cruel, painful ministrations. Everything about him was emotionless, harsh and hurtful. I kept my own silent counsel, Ansel's memory still an anchor. My heart ached for him, but for once I was glad he didn't know of my whereabouts.
"They'll be here soon, I can feel it," Aleron said as his thrusts slowed, mercifully granting me respite as he roughly moved from me. I struggled to sit up, weak and shaky, as he righted his clothing once more. His grin was maniacal as he watched me, and I knew utter despair. What would happen to me if no one could find me? And how was I to be found if no one knew where to look? And then another thought struck me. Who would take care of Michel should something happen to me? Oh, my poor Michel!
Taking a deep breath, I pushed the horrible thoughts out of my head and concentrated.
Ansel. Oh, Ansel.... Gods be thanked you have no idea that this is happening.
|
|
|
Post by Samael Basmala on Apr 7, 2011 17:41:52 GMT -5
I kept my thoughts to myself as Messire Landis counseled, asked, for somewhat legal proceedings.
"Messire D'Ames." My voice was pitched soft, but no more; whispers carry far better than a quiet tone, and I did not trust that one or more of the servants would not be on the gutter-trash's payroll. "Your friend has been removed of her freedom, and your enemy parades this fact in your face. Bloodshed will happen, no matter what you or the authorities may wish. I will try to... maintain some discretion."
Neither men offered a thought on how to find her, so I dismissed the masked rogue and turned to Landis. "We can go about this two ways. Your way would be to write a letter to this man. Make it about whatever you wish. Threats, bribes, surrender, a challenge, anything. What matters is that you have a reason to go to the slums and ask the urchins there to find the messenger boy, that you may send him with the letter to be delivered. Threats will just drive the boy to ground; give him work and the reward that goes with it will draw him to you."
I eyed the man. "The other way is... not well suited to such as you, Messire D'Ames. Keeping a prisoner is not a quiet business, and it is definitely not a discreet one. Tell us where you've seen this man, and who you've seen him with, and we can go about and... 'ask' those who deal with them, see where their patterns of behavior have been broken."
I said no more, still and waiting, giving a thoughtful look at Messire Landis. There would be violence coming, and likely bloodshed would be unavoidable. I could only hope my stay in prison in my employer's stay would be short and would not end with a short prayer under a long blade.
|
|
|
Post by Landis d'Ames nó Mandrake on Apr 7, 2011 18:07:28 GMT -5
"We are not taking prisoners," I said, and on this matter I was adamant. "We are not our foe, and no one is going to prison for acts of such recklessness. Hold, I need but a moment more."
So saying, I went to my desk and quickly penned a letter, or, more precisely, penned a phrase on parchment:
Forgiveness is earned.
There, that sounds appropriately dramatic. I thought as I sealed the parchment and returned to my companions for this operation. "Gentleman," I said, throwing back the bolt on the door. "Let us go find an urchin, hm?"
|
|
|
Post by Ansel Roux on Apr 8, 2011 12:11:53 GMT -5
I wasn't certain what I thought of this plan. It was clear though that I was not the leader of this escapade. So I simply nodded and rose up from my seat, ready to do what was needed.
|
|
|
Post by Samael Basmala on Apr 8, 2011 21:22:51 GMT -5
The gods allow that I would not have to point out to Messire Landis that it was not prisoners, but bodies, that concerned me.
As things stood, I merely followed him. The knife I'd taken from the man the Skillet Maid had floored was snug at my back, and I trusted my own skills more than any other weapon I might have been handed and given no chance to grow familiar with.
|
|
|
Post by Landis d'Ames nó Mandrake on Apr 8, 2011 23:42:38 GMT -5
|
|