The Trading Post ... ( Open to All )

Started by Sasha, June 18, 2011, 07:10:57 AM

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Aria Darkenwing

Autumn opened the door and set foot inside the wooden premises. She discovered that the building's exterior did great injustice to the beauty and elegance of the room inside. She felt warm and at ease. 

She thanked the gentleman who greeted her and accepted the delicate robe that he offered. The man is bald and has a big nose, but his eyes were his most remarkable features. They were piercing eyes, and she supposed those eyes have seen a lot in life. Nonetheless, those orbs looked kind. 

"I don't know why you were expecting me, but I suspect this place to be magical. Must still be asleep and dreaming... "

The man temporarily postponed proper introductions and led the girl down a hallway and opened a door into a changing room where she could slip off her thin hospital gown and dress appropriately. (OOC: Sorry for RPing Mr. Asmar... Hope it's fine.) She looked at her face on the mirror and adjusted the cloth covering of her head. When she deemed herself presentable enough she emerged from the room and went back to where the gentleman was waiting.

"Thank you for this beautiful robe..." she hesitated for a second before continuing with, "I guess you already know who I am since you said you've been waiting for me. Who are you sir?... and please tell me where am I?"

I come from the valley of the gods where meanings are lilting and oblique. ~Ayn Rand



Sasha


" Let me assure you my dear that you are not sleeping or dreaming , more just stepped out of time in a paused moment . For you have been chosen ..." as he guided the lovely girl to the changing area . He would more fully answer her questions upon the girls return . As he looked over to see a woman with Eve that seemed familiar but he somehow had no real remembrance of her at this time. Drawing a blank as he tilted his head some ...having come from seeing the master things were fuzzy yet in his mind over the why he could not remember the woman at the bar with Eve.

Asmar smiled as Autumn returned in the garment he had picked out ...indeed that would help this beautiful woman fit in a little better . Glancing up at the turban wrapped about her head and sensing the disease that wracked havoc on her body it amazed him the spirits she seemed to be in .

"I guess you already know who I am since you said you've been waiting for me. Who are you sir?... and please tell me where am I?"

He took her arm ...and lead the girl over to the seating arrangement at the fireplace . " Let me see where to begin ..." as they sat it seemed a teapot was handy and he poured them both a cup ...adding a little sugar as needed . Handing the cup first to the new guest .  " I am Asmar , a servant of this magical place as you called it . We refer to it as the Trading post ...it was designed as a second chance stopping point for those selected and guided here. The offering is what one most desires within limits ...for we can not physical grant harm to another nor can we alter things outside yourself . Though the gift lets you change your circumstances , give you an ability that you find lacking or open up an opportunity that you have always wished for . Sometimes it is the correction of a decision made in the past ." as he took a sip of the tea. Letting her absorb the information some .

Leaning back into the chair at this time to give the woman a bit more space to consider things ...one would think that the gift for her would be most obvious though Asmar knew better. Sometimes what was asked did not always match what others thought should be. The desire to heal her though was great within him as he could see the damage inside ...least he could manage was for now in this place the girl would feel no pain . " You may rest in our company ...to dwell on what it is you most desire . I have taken the liberty of easing your pain to allow a clear head so you can contemplate the situation at hand without any physical interference . "


Aria Darkenwing

"My desire is simple and I believe needs to further thinking Asmar. If this is a place where wishes are granted then please take this cancer out of my body. Can you do that for me?" She asked in earnest while looking at Asmar straight in the eyes. When the gentleman did nothing to break his silence Autumn let out a sigh of resignation and took a sip off her tea.

She was surprised that the tea was made from chamomile and prepared exactly the way she wanted.  She looked over at Asmar's tea and saw that it was quite different from hers. Truly this place is enveloped with enchantments. She began to crave for butterscotch cookies to go along with her tea. Then without speaking Asmar gently pushed to her side of the table a plate of freshly baked butterscotch cookies.

Autumn smiled once more and ate 1, 2, 3 and 4 big pieces of cookie. With good mood restored she engaged Asmar in conversation once more, this time in a much comfortable mood. Perhaps the tea and cookie contain derivatives of morphine, but she'd never know for sure. "Thank you for taking away my body ache. I feel like I can dance again. I miss dancing so much! Would you like to dance with me?"


I come from the valley of the gods where meanings are lilting and oblique. ~Ayn Rand



Haloriel

Lady Almeria Pembroke

Almeria listened intently to Eve, her expression very serious as the woman spoke.  She learned quickly that there were many guises of person - and it was not based upon their appearance. 

For a woman from the era from whence she had come - it was a lesson beyond her time and place.  A soft sigh left her lips as she stirred the tea she'd been given - taking a slow sip after a moment, then smiling. 

"Well ... you make good tea," the lady hedged, her eyes twinkling with such sudden mirth. 

"I am sorrowed that you spent time in such a place, truly," Almeria continued, placing a hand upon Eve's own. 

She paused then, expression thoughtful with the woman's query of love.  Almeria considered it and shook her head, laughing softly.

"No, I am not in love," she said, and was immediately distracted by Asmar's appearance, whom only looked back at her briefly as if they'd never once spoken ...

It startled Almeria, and a soft gasp departed her lips as the fingers of her hand gripped Eve's somewhat hard - with a surprising strength. 

"Why ... does he look at me as if he has never seen me before?"

Sasha


Eve lifted her head and took in Asmar ....indeed the man seemed to be acting different . At first thought was to deny the change , but lying was something that was not one of her strengths. Bending the truth , whatever one wanted to call it these days . Licking her lips ...as he mind searched for all the possible reasons .

" Upon serving in this place ...we make a pact with the master my lady ...that our own thoughts and actions should not in any way direct or give our opinion on what another should choose as their deepest desire . Sometimes though , one touches us in a way that it is very difficult not to . I would say by the way Asmar is acting , distant like...that such an infraction may of taken place , thus ...well , forgive me my Lady . He will not remember having meet you earlier , I do hope you will forgive this . "  as she moved then to poor a bit more tea for the both of them .

Pulling her hand away which took some effort...as she bit her lip some , with a squirm on her chair ...the tension mounting was a bit uncomfortable . Trying to return to the subject of tea ...." Tea , indeed ...I do love tea . " as she picked her cup up and sipped it . Letting time pass by ...as part of her wondered what had been said , it was rare ...well she could not even remember the last time that Asmar messed up . It had to be something very important , something that happened before this woman arrived maybe .

" Tell me ...when you arrived it seemed you had a struggle or something ....maybe Asmar seen the depths of the foul play that you had experienced .  Corruption in the past is something that was kept well hidden but evil leaves a residue on the things that it touches. It is quite invisible to the naked eye , but the imprinting exists all the same . You will have to trust me on this one. "  as she could feel the inner stirrings in herself it might be best that she not dwell to much here .  Straightening up some as she offered a smile to the lady . Hoping the look in her eyes spoke more volume than the words that would follow .

" The only advice I can offer is ..that ...some are chosen because a terrible wrong was about to be committed . Not always is it easy to understand by whom , sometimes what we are lead to believe is by far not the true case in the matter.  I think you have much to think on my Lady about your life , the course of what it was prior to coming here and the opportunity you have now to alter it into a new direction . " as she let out a sigh ...feeling the tingling sensation leaving her body was a good sign that she had moved easily to safer ground .




Asmar listened to the young woman ....slowly he stood and offered his hand to help the pale delicate thing up to her feet . " I would indeed be honored to dance with you ..."  as the man would aide the girl to her feet . As he stepped back and produced a necklace in his other hand .... " First let us take care of your desire ...if you would turn around for me so I might place this around your beautiful neck . You see this is a moon amulet ... it has powers to upon being held in ones hand that will draw out the vial disease that plagues your body . Only the pure of heart can weld such a thing without consequences ....for you see , it must be passed to another within three days after it absorbs the darkness inside. "   

As he turned the girl around then ...and slipped a hand up around her waist . He would capture her hand before she moved to touch it . Holding that free hand up close as the man tilted his head down and kissed the top of it . He began to sway his hips and his feet moved with a grace that showed his years . A soft jazz like music filled the room as the two of them seemed to dance . Asmar drew in the scent of the woman as he found each and every one compelling in their own right . This dainty creature had a hard choice ahead of her now ...and he wanted to ensure that he conveyed everything to her so that she would completely understand the terms .

After dancing around for quite some time ...the man continued to speak looking directly into her eyes ..." Death is the one entity that hates to be cheated out of its prize you see. I think we both know that he now holds the weak strands that remain in the final days of your existence . You must close your eyes and hold onto the amulet and open your soul for the cleansing . You will indeed feel the draining power and feel the blissful calm when it is completed . Three days you will have to give the necklace to another ...if you have been found pure of heart then nothing will befall the one it is given to . However , if not ...the darkness that once dwelt in you shall be transferred to another . Failure to give this amulet away will send the darkness back inside your own body and give death back it's original claim. "

As he let the girls hand go now ...after another soft kiss to the top of it ...." The gift has been given ...Do you truly desire the gift of healing ?" 





< Please roll the dice if your character chooses to accept and use the amulet  ...using the Dice Bot .... 1D10 or 1 dice , 10 sides, your character must match or beat my roll . >

Roll Result: Sasha rolled: 1d10
Comment: Roll Against Aria Darkenwing
Result: 9,
Total: 9


Haloriel

Lady Almeria Pembroke

"Then I shall remember on his behalf," she whispered, hands curling around her tea cup with a sigh.  She noticed that Eve seemed to display some discomfort, so she allowed the woman to lead the conversation.  The last thing she needed was to cause her saviours trouble, though it hurt that she had caused this ... this thing. 

Another lesson.

"I trust you in this ..." she continued - the remembered fear that she could have died curling through Almeria for several moments that her knuckles turned white with the grip of her hands on the cup. 

"It does follow, I suppose.  I ... am sorrowed if I have caused trouble with my questions of the gentleman.  I did not intend anyone to have distress."

"I will think upon your words ... as yes.  There was a man -- a man that intended me harm though I know not ... why."  Her shoulders fell then as she slowly sipped her tea - finding it a comfort by the moment.  Almeria felt as if she'd lost a friend ... all to her own folly.  All places had rules ... and it was the fool that did not consider such things.

"I would not wish for the experiences of mine to ... so taint another.  How do I keep that from occurring.  Forgiveness ... is a consideration."  Her fingers brushed over her tea cup as a smile bloomed in some surprise, and her manner softened with the words.

Garrit

It rung so loud and deafening around him.  The canister shots breaking up like so many hornet nests, popping like sacks of paper.  He could hear the failing whistle of things flying past him and feel the way that the air heated up when they passed.  But, that might just be his imagination - a dread. 

When they had first come out of the thicket and mustered their line to charge, the air had been thick with the miasma of the cannon smoke.  It blew great puffs down the hillside, which that battery was upon, and the wind carried it down into the bluff that his company had come into.  Like boulders the artillery shells sailed high into the air and would certainly crash into the other Union lines, but his company could not see the massacre from where they had moved, under secret to flank that battery.  They knew that they had been spotted when the artillery pieces suddenly stopped issuing its rhythmic booms: one, two, three, four, five, six - one, two three…. it went like Death were to blow down a harmonica, right to left, right to left. 

The surprise gone, it didn't change anything.  The company captain in plainclothes stood at the center of the line with his saber drawn.  The Ohio flag unfurled and the eighty other volunteers unfolded from their column to face the rebels up the hill.  "Bayonets!" went the order, but the men were already fixing those cruel implements to their rifles as they came into formation. 

Already the guns had been turning around, ponderous on their big wheels bearing those heavy brass bores.  Frantically the artillery sergeant was running between the six guns and their grunting, crews of men.  The gun Chiefs likewise shouting charge times to the gunner who worked hastily to trim those fuses, while men were swabbing out the cannons even as the cannoneers were turning it fully around to face the union company.  When the last man had mustered into line it was almost as if the company knew itself without turning to look.  They had drilled so tirelessly that in their bodies they felt no closer to one another than a hand to an arm.  Even still, the men looking up at a certitude of death felt a heavy pit open in their bellies and all their feelings fell out through it. 

The company captain's 'charge' was a distant strike, no more than the blaze of a match sputtering, and almost by their own will, Del McCullin felt his legs move fast. Fast in a sprint with his rifle held out infront of him and that lead muzzle pointed, wavering to and fro with his heavy breathing his hard foot falls.  He must have been screaming, but he could no more hear himself than any other man, Union or Confederate.  The canisters were going off then.  "All fire All fire!" the artillery sergeant was shouting but nobody could hear a goddamn thing except those deafening booms and pops.  He didn't notice the change when the grey powder smoke turned red.  It hung in the air the further up the hill he went.  A vapor that blew back against him like the fog.

Ten men slightly ahead of him were seized as if by God.  Their arms thrown out as their rifle stocks exploded into tinder.  They floated in the air for much longer than he thought possible before the group of them simply threw themselves apart with red and smoke issuing after like souls dispossessed.  When they dropped away it was as if a curtain had fallen.  Revealed before Del was the monstrous glory of that cannon.  Its gaping maw opened issued still a dark smoke for more.  The gunner had not shifted that weapon from its direction and seemed to be looking down that scope directly at Del.  The next canister was dropped down into the cannon while one of the cannoneers set the fuse to the piece.  The Chief gunner sucking in breath to command fire….

Del dropped to a knee and raised his rifle.  His heart must have seized and his breath caught.  His shot, a hollow snap in the air was quickly followed by others down the ragged line - peppered rolls of a rattle.  The cannon chief fell by Del's minieball.  The gunner and the man upon the fuse were likewise thrown away.  The other cannoneers rushed in, to quickly retake those positions.  For goddsakes, to fire the gun. 

Del did not reload his rifle.  He ran, like the rest of them their bayonets lowered.  Like a flood that expected to overtake the cannoneers, skewering viscously those that stayed with their artillery pieces.  It was just five yards, it was less than five.  The cannoneer was struggling with the fuse.  The artillery men at the cannon wheels had already stood up and had were unsheathing sabers or raising pistols.  Three yards, his heart pounding in his ear and he saw that chemical flare of the fuse.  The etheric stillness in the air just before he expected that cannon to fire.  Expecting it to explode a thousand lead bullets to spray certain death upon him and anyone standing beside him.

He must have closed his eyes in that final realization of his mortality.  Two yards and the expected sound of that horrible device exploding… but it did not. 

He screamed as he opened his eyes.  Sweat soaking through his uniform and his rifle thrust forward for he had not stopped running. 

There before him was not the cannon and its desperate crew.  He looked up at a building in the woods.  Feet slowed into a slow platter on the grass.  His legs trembling from the strain and with a kind of finality the horror and exhaustion caved in his heart and he dropped to his knees.  Rifle held at his chest.

"What now." he said, arms shaking.

Sasha


Eve smiled up at the woman ...." Well , I might suggest .....walking over to the man and asking him to dance . Asmar does so enjoy dancing anyways . " as the woman slowly moved to go about making another pot of tea . Humming to the music that seemed to be playing throughout the front end of the trading post . As she did so it was as if little butterflies of light gathered together from the sparkles around her body that seemed to of appeared. then they just fluttered their wings up and dance about slowly returning to land on the woman . As her voice slowly kicked in and a beautiful melody of a strange  like happy sorrow seemed to flow through the air .

Asmar having finished his task with the woman in white slowly made his way to the bar ...with a slight sway in his hip as he leaned over the edge and spoke out . " Well my darling Eve , you seem in fine spirits this afternoon ..."  as he grinned and watched his co-companion go about the making of another pot of tea . Glancing over at the elegant woman to his right then . " A beautiful day to you my dear ...might I say that the choice of attire this evening brings great joy to my heart . You look radiant with a hint of daring mystery . I am Asmar ....at your service . " as he lowered his head and rolled his hand outward leaving it there for a few moments before lifting back up . 

Eve let out a giggle ....as her song ended . " I am indeed in a wonderful mood ..."  as she began to re-pour now three glasses of tea for those that seemed to remain in the social area of the Trading Post. Part of her wondering if the lady would find the courage to ask for that dance or not . It would be the first step in finding the courage to change her destiny as well it seemed . Asmar was right though the dress was quite exquisite even if way too much clothing to deal with in Eve's mind. The butterflies of light having settled now ...as she wondered who might be coming through the door next .

Garrit

Obviously, he thought he was dead.  As the mechanics of the cannon were so simple, there was no need to speculate, for a misfire was nearly impossible .  Given the worst situation, a portion of the powder within the chamber should still explode and the projectile would still be propelled with a lethal force.  Even if the intended trajectory or secondary explosion was not achieved, the consequence to  all those who stood immediately before it goes without mention.

So this must be some vestibule of the afterlife?  The verdant spread of the forest before his eyes encapsulating this sanctuary of a trading post, how else could he interpret his fate?  If anything, he was suspicious of the comfort of this place.  After all… had he not killed and done many more things in his life that should shame the Savior?  In his time, he had steeled himself to the possibility of damnation even while he listened to the platitude of his company chaplain.

Yet, he could neither convince himself that this was Hell.  The irregularity of this experience to what he'd learned in sermon ultimately called into question whether or not he was actually dead to begin with.  An erroneous line of reason, but it did arrive at the correct answer. 

The man stood from the ground with steadying breaths.  While his heart still pounded loudly in his ear, he began to will it to calm.  He watched the entrance of the building and found his eyes cast up to the windows upstairs as if expecting a rifle barrel to stealthily protrude.  The man walked from the entrance however.  He circled the building, which suited his cautiousness, his curiosity, and did plenty to ease his nerves.  Eventually, full circle, he returned to the front of the trading post and strode up the porch.  He had since removed the bayonet from his rifle and tucked that blade into his belt.  His rifle too was slung upon his back.

"Hello?" he said loudly, towards one of the windows at ground level.  This was a public place of business, he told himself, and without calling again he simply opened the door.  What an odd sight he must have been.  And what an odd sight they were to him!  He had seen lithographs of Orientals.  Eve might not conform to those drawings of opium laden concubines, he'd no idea how else to reconcile her primal, exoticness.  In fact, he now wondered if this was a brothel.

There stood Del, blue eyes wide at the trading post entry.  The door was still held open and he did not know which foot to follow - the one that had passed the threshold or the one which hung behind.  While there was a solidness or trimness to his composure him, his clothing and condition were haggard and almost wild.  His beard appeared more a dead animal pasted to his face, dark soot or dirt or blood confused the weathered creases or dark tan in his visage.  He wore in part the regulation uniform with that dark blue sack coat and vaguely sky blue trousers - though they were quite brown with dried mud and speckled in barbed seeds as well as other things.  His sack coat was fastened by a singular button at his belt, otherwise left open for it seemed he'd just come from a very hot place.  Beneath the coat he wore a brownish red, checkered shirt which was also opened at the neck and to mid-chest (a veteran's disregard to dress formality).  Sweat darkened all of his shirt that to sense it was wet was to note how it stuck to his sunburnt skin.  The belt that was buckled above his sackcoat was loaded with satchels; the proud US held in the brass buckle.  His cartridge case was slung over his shoulders like his rifle, though the case's shoulder strap was a thick prominent strip of leather with a conspicuous brass chestplate embossed with the seal of Ohio.  He was without his slouch hat, instead wearing a blue cap to which was stitched a red piece of felt. 

"What is this place?" he spoke finally.  Stepping inside he did not close the door behind.  His drawl was not so thick as those in the deep South, and instead shared more likeness to a West Virginian's lip.




Sasha


Eve glanced up at the door as it opened and shiver ran through her small frame for the sight of the man entering had a chill that seemed to drain the happiness that was so apparent moments before . The stench of death and decay clung to his being and whatever pit this man had crawled out of it was apparent that his eyes had seen more than his share. Her hands moved behind her back and she drew in a breath of the coldness that lay outside the open door . It was the void that separated this place from the worlds from which each guest came .

The man's eyes expressed the same bewilderment and she was cautious with her approach as the woman was with any that held weapons on their person. The knowledge of safety within these walls was apparent and with each step the questioning of that was reassured by some unseen force that existed .

Stopping before him , she did a soft curtsy ...then stood back up right again . " A good day to you kind Sir ....you have come to the Trading Post . Fear not in time things shall be explained but you have entered a safe haven , rest assured on that . "  as she offered her hand to him ..." I am Eve ...a faithful servant , if you would follow me ...we might see to drawing you a warm bath so you might be given an opportunity to become presentable . "  biting her lip as she tilted her head , part of her wondering if that was truly possible for he was indeed quite filthy as she wrinkled her nose .

Lowering her face then as it was apparent that she was maybe on the edge of being rude ...maybe if she thought of flowers or something the air would clear . Closing her eyes ...as she projected her thoughts into the room it indeed soon gave off a wonderful smell of jasmine . Much better the woman thought .. and shifted then to take his arm . " Do tell what year is it from whence you have come from ...for you see this place is without a sense of the timeline of the World at large . "  her voice sing song like as jasmine was her favorite .

Garrit


Her curtsy stirred him.  It changed everything that he had expected when he walked into this place.  This wasn't one of those strings of trading posts up the trail to Oregon - where husbands drove in alone to get a sack of beans for his family and instead got an hour with a whore.  That Eve didn't address him with an impatient gruff - an unpolished leer at his billfold, set Del at unease.  He was, once more, uncertain where he'd found himself and more importantly - embarrassed that he should walk into the company of a lady in this condition.  Like a man was not to know of pregnancy, a woman was not to know of war.

He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat.  Eyes darting from one side to the other as if there was some place he could excuse himself to, but she was already standing before him.  "Ma'm…" he said, culled.  A hand went up to draw off his cap and he held it at his belly. 

Her hand rose out for his and he held out his for a second.  His palm, wide and his fingers long, their tips stubbed and filthy.  Black with gun powder and it was gruesome and harsh.  He did not take her hand with his.  Instead his fingers curled back into a fist and he dropped it at his side with a bow of his head, "You must forgive me, I have found myself deposited unexpected into your company."

And indeed the man stank.  It was a frightful sort of stench that bespoke someone who had not bathed in weeks… months?  The further anyone should look into Del, the more they would discover something that would offend.  The big man attempted to shy back from the scrutiny, with an even more sincere dip of his head.  "I fear I am dead.  Is this not… the end?" he said, looking up at her with an absolution in his gaze that seemed like he had already made up his mind.

He would not know Arabian Jasmine but he knew Confederate Jasmine (star jasmine).  The smell hung on the air as mysterious as it had come and it only added to his assumption.  Indeed this must be the end.  Yet, she was taking his arm.  The wool of his jacket had a certain texture that she would be better not thinking too deep about.  She'd feel the tension in that man's arm, a kind of reluctance to go on.

"What do you mean, without Time?" He said, a brief tremble in his otherwise deep tone.  A new dread displacing what had previously been known.  Fearful as any should be of death, now it was death with uncertainty and she would discover that he was not so eager to walk with her. 

Sasha

#86
 Eve smiled up at him as she absorbed his fear into her own body ...it helped to realize why the man had stopped . Understanding now crept into her mind ..." Oh forgive me ..." she spoke out with a startled tone ..." No , Kind Sir ...you have not yet to meet your maker so to speak . Nor the cruel hand that ends ones existence ...No Sir . I assure you this place is one of second chances and for some reason ...you have been chosen. There must be something that you desire and the hand of fate has decided you worthy enough to grant you ...well the one thing you desire more than anything else . "  as she patted his arm . Offering a small tug as she took a few steps, stopping as he needed to find his confidence to trust in her and continue .

Slowly Eve made her way to a side room ...through the back entrance . Once at the door she closed her eyes and moved to open the door . Inside was a simple room considering others that had been offered but it did indeed matched the period of time from which the gentleman had come. Eve would offer another slow curtsy ..." Let me prepare your bath ..."  as she slipped through the gray painted door and began to draw the water .

The bathing facilities were just as simple really ....as Eve opened the door of the wooden cabinet smiling at the clean uniform that hung there . Indeed it did seem quite honorable in this cleaned state as even a new pair of boots were there all nicely polished . A bottle of cognac was left on the stand along with a the proper straight razor and shaving cream or just an old fashioned pair of shears to trim that rough scraggly beard . Oh indeed the man would return to the social area a new man .. As she seemed to of only just entered the bathing room before the barely clad woman reappeared . " Please ...take you time ...I shall see to making sure a hot meal is made ready for you as well . How about a nice helping of some beef stew and some fresh bread with plenty of butter and jams . Oh yes ....and apple pie with the perfect crust that flakes off into your mouth ..." as she tilted her head . " Maybe a meal of roasted chicken might be better" as the man more than likely could eat a whole one with roasted taters and greens .

Pausing as she looked about the room ...wondering if there was something more that could be added to give the comfort of home . It sure seemed a bit dull but needless to say adequate for this man that more than likely had been sleeping on the ground for who knows how long . No damp earth would seep into his bones this night anyways . As she lowered her eyes once again. 

Haloriel



Name: Lady Almeria Pembroke
Age: Twenty Two
Era: Georgian England: 1714-1820





Almeria had to fight for composure then, but managed the sweetest of smiles. 

"Sir, a pleasure it is ..."  She bowed her own head in reply to Asmar, tea cup cradled in her fingers.  Yet, distraction followed with the entrance of a man so plainly having been just at war, that her face went ashen.  Her half gloved fingers gripped the tea cup in an effort not to slide from the chair in a heap of long pink gown befitting the era from whence she'd come - and raven haired female.

"Oh dear ... that cannot ... be good at all."  Her eyes went wide at the bayonet tucked in his belt, the dubious colouring of the uniform that she could not place, and the weaponry on his back.  Almeria took deep breaths into her tea for courage - and by the time she'd managed to appear normal, Eve had already swept the man off to other quarters.

She looked to Asmar, biting her lower lip, lifting the tea cup to her lips to sip, slowly. 

Breathe, Almeria.  People from various ... times ... appear often here. 

Though she'd reflected then that the new man's manners - though the speech was something she had never heard - she could understand him with relative ease, and his uniform - while not near as decorative of those she'd seen - was not terribly different in cut.  So he must not have been so far off from her own period.

You can do this, it is mere simple logic ...

"So then.  Where ... would he be from, do you think?  The ... gentleman that passed through?"  Her brows lifted as she spoke to Asmar in a steady tone she took immense pride in.

Garrit

#88
He was beside himself.  An embarrassment which brokered on the obscene at Church.  A faint glance to Almeria in apology - yet he wasn't even willing to hold the gaze long enough to find a forgiveness (or otherwise).  In her time, she might have directed her carriage to the battlefield and picnicked to the sudden but absolute outcome of the battle where musket men (swordsmen?) stood over each other's shoulders in stupid lines - firing till the other side was properly beaten to death.  That he was from a time beyond hers did not change chivalry…  Even in the darkest days of his country's strife, when men robbed and raped and mutilated their own kin…  He still believed… Still loved to a degree of weeping.

Del hung as a prized bass on the fisherman's line.  She tugged and he could go but only with enough will.  With his weight was his reticence.  His reticence, his manifesting doubts. 

Why should he of all men be allowed this?  This chance?  He heard her words, but he did not believe them - was not willing to give himself into comfort.  Yet a voice rose within him, 'Samuel' it shouted; and it was a still ring of a forgotten bell calling Church to some place emptied.  "Something I should desire?" he repeated with a foretelling weakness, which melted the rigidness of his arm and let her, finally, to guide him.  He went up those stairs with the steady beat of his equipment, thumping upon his back.

He had not answered her question (on provenience) of course.  Distracted and perhaps, not fully understanding that this place was not of his 'time'.  He let her lead him, for lack of anything else…  His mind however on that idea of completion and second chance…  Should this be the way his Brother faced the Lord?  Yet she had said he was not yet finished.  His thoughts, despite, were deep within him as she lead him to that room.  A ragged raccoon of a man, leaving a slime trail of foulness behind him.

The room opened up into a comfortable refuge.  It was almost embarrassingly so.  Surely, it wasn't something that a businessmen of his time would have expected to pay for, but for a simple farmer as himself, a tavern's room with bath to himself was an unexpected extravagance.  There was already something surreal about this experience since the moment that he found himself faced with the trading post so he did not remark on the accommodations.  The pragmatic, also, mind did wonder why she had not asked for payment, but even that consideration was unvoiced. 

"That sounds delightful," he answered to her telling of the meal.  His voice deep yet bland in its even keel.   She might be accustomed to sorts like himself, come upon her realm with purposes so great that they should overwhelm. 

He took a step to the dresser but paused to turn back to her.  A solemn bow of his head that hung, while he spoke, "You have my thanks…  For deserts and wasteland you have provided me an oasis."  He said while she waited at the door, with eyes looking for anything untended. 

When she slipped out and closed the door behind he was left with that room.  He rounded it once or twice and then shed his equipment, his clothing.  The bathing the barbering.  And when he stopped the thoughts of that battle… and those before it… began to melt enough in the water, he took a drink or two of the cognac and felt for a moment at ease… a sense he'd not had in a long time.

The dress uniform was pulled on.  It fit him well as if it were tailored.  Within it, Del cut a distinguished profile like he were a calvary captain.  It was once more the blue uniform of his army, but everything was clean for once and there was a crispness to him.  He was always a broad shouldered man, barreled chested and distinguished in profile.  Within the uniform he should seem much more than the lowly private that he was.  (Even the sleeve's chevrons should display his rank, which mystified the man a little).  He had trimmed his beard.  That bushy mess condensed into a gentlemanly's edge.  Del kept a handlebar mustache with a short sheer of a beard, which folded neatly over his wide jaw. 

He left his equipment upstairs, though he did holster his pistol to the belt.  The offensive weapon was hidden within that leather casing, only visible by its stock and its steely tip. 

He was dressed, his hair wetted and combed back behind his ears.  His beard neat and close against his cheeks.  Yet he stared at the door and did not move from where he sat upon the bed.  His hands folded one over the other and he put his palms over his ears a moment.  His eyes closed and his breath still. 

Finally he stood and walked to the door.  Opened it and strode down the hallway.  With his steps came again proprietary.  While he was American it did not change the English influence of the day… the stiff upper lip and the disdain for emotion.  So he should appear down the stairs, something remarkably different than he had entered some time ago.