Damian Cline's Story

A hand placed upon her silk skirt, Elegy lightly lifted the material up in order to take proper steps in time with those of Louis as he led her along toward the railing of the foyer’s second floor. The strands of pearls adorning her hair moved in time behind her, quietly pantomiming the movements made by the noble born daughter. Her form compared to that of her future husband was diminutive at best—Louis was easily a man who stood more than a head above her. He was tall, strong and considered a handsome fellow by the standards held by many people. He was a man born into a position of future power, and wealth, there was a charm to him that allowed his words to easily make the hearts of most women swoon . . . even with his known reputation as someone who was nothing more than a mere pleasure seeker.

Many women still fell to the allure Louis possessed. And as a result, there were a great deal many women who also wound up with their hearts broken by him as well. Elegy knew the tales about him, her young ears had heard the stories whispered among the gossip within Cellé. The many tales of the happenings that occurred with Louis and some of the young women within the city’s walls. The woman had heard these accounts, and she was more than aware of what sort of man he was, as was most everyone, even if such things were not spoken of aloud.

To regard Louis as nothing more than a womanizer, such a thing was considered an insult to the Auttenberg name. Even among the common folk, and the town’s aristocracy, the son of their reigning ruler was indeed someone to whisper about instead of speaking about him audibly.

Elegy was insulted and called a great number of things for her engagement to the man, so many of Cellé’s nobility had offered up the hands of their own daughters for marriage to Louis, and they’d been denied instead, for a girl who appeared as if from nowhere. Such a thing was considered an insult by many of town’s aristocrats. And, as she was, Elegy was simply existing now as it was expected of her—as it was her mother, Violetta, had instructed her on how she was to present herself tonight. The words spoken of her by others, the insults were only words that held no importance to her in the very least; they were just things these people were saying.

All that mattered was that she did as she was told, that she acted polite and that she did nothing to bring insult to Louis or to Duke Auttenberg. Halting in front of the railing as Louis did, Elegy allowed her released hand to return to her front, clasping the gloved appendage against her other as she stood strange with her eyes cast down, an expression of apathy lacing her done up face.

She stood silent as the Duke introduced herself and Louis as what they were to be—husband and wife. A smile lit up the face of the aged Duke as he looked upon the two of them, Louis smiling a falsely abashed smile while rubbing the back of his head. Elegy remained still as she had been, giving no reaction to the words spoken by her future father-in-law at all. The Duke himself gave a small bit of applause to the couple, which of course sparked an outpour of it from the crowd below as they hesitantly followed the example of their leader.

As a hand and arm slid around her waist, Elegy’s body tensed up as she did her best to maintain the form she had taken upon halting at the railing. At the sudden feeling of the arm around her backside however, Elegy, despite her normally unresponsive ways, allowed her cerulean eyes to travel upward quietly—an expression of questioning upon that face of hers. Standing right next to her, was Louis of course, a smile upon his face that was obviously a rehearsed one. To the crowd of nobles he gave his smile, before looking back down upon her and opening those brown eyes of his . . . a glint going through them that spoke of the man’s true feelings regarding this.

Disgust, there was pure disgust in his eyes regarding her. Elegy could clearly see it, though she gave no reaction toward it, simply she acknowledged it. The man wanted nothing to do with her, he didn’t want anything to do with the wedding tomorrow. He was simply acting this way in order to please his father. . . . The hand Louis kept at her side suddenly tightened upon her flesh a bit, gripping onto her hip roughly, to the point of pain. The sudden surge of discomfort was enough to elicit a reaction from Elegy, a clear expression of pain travelled along her features along with a muffled yelp.

To keep herself from losing control over her actions, to keep from disobeying what it was Violetta had told her to do, the blonde-haired woman found herself biting down on her lower lip.

The look upon Elegy’s face remained as it was before, one full of discomfort. The woman allowed her teeth to remain clenched about her bottom lip in order to keep from losing control over herself due to the pain that Louis was inflicting upon her waist by applying so very much pressure. . . . Those eyes of his possessed nothing but malice. He didn’t want to marry her, he wanted nothing to do with her. All of this was only for his father, only for him, and only for the power he would be granted once all of this was through. Louis only wanted the power that came with this marriage. The title of Duke, to rule over Cellé, that was all he wanted, nothing but that. Violetta had told Elegy to behave herself, and to act as a proper woman, silent, and unquestioning. . . .

Yet, what was she suppose to do right now, what was she suppose to do now that the man she was suppose to marry was hurting her? He was showing that he clearly wanted nothing to do with her. . . . Violetta had never told her about what it was she was supposed to do in a case like this, if he was to start hurting her.

A rather soft whimper escaped from the girl’s throat as Louis continued to gradually increase the grip he had around her waist, tighter and tighter. . . . It was beginning to get hard to breathe, and her ribs were beginning to hurt her. Biting down on her lip harder, Elegy visibly winced as her neck went a little limp and her hair proceeded to act as a curtain to the world around her. No one was helping her, and no one was paying any heed to the obvious pain she was in at all. Even if someone were to see that something were clearly wrong with her, no one was trying to provide any aid to Elegy, no one at all.

It h-hurts, and I ca-cannot breathe. . . . she thought, body beginning to shake as she instinctively moved her thin arms up and set her hands against the arm around her middle. She did not meant to even do so, but Elegy’s body was reacting in a way she didn’t realize, trying to preserve itself from the pain and discomfort. Even if this marriage was forced, why was Louis hurting her so? All she was doing was following the words of her mother, nothing more. . . .

Tears began to slide out of Elegy’s eyes as Louis just maintained that pressure around her waist, and her own hands were kept against his arm, trying to loosen it from her with effort made only in vain. “You’d do well to stop that, Elegy. . . .” Louis quietly warned her through his teeth, having leaned his head downward to make it appear as if he were whispering something loving into her ear. “If you keep acting like there’s something wrong, you’ll only make things far worse for yourself; straighten up.”

Hearing her fiancé speak, Elegy’s hands ceased their desperate movements against his arm though they remained there, as her glassy eyes slowly glanced to look upon Louis’. It was hard to breathe, and there was so much pressure around her middle. “Wh-Why are you hurting me, Louis . . . ?” she spoke softly, voice breathy and high.

Suddenly, the pressure around her waist increased again, a loud gasp slipping from Elegy’s mouth at it. “I told you to straighten up, didn’t I? Act like a proper lady, you little bitch. . . .” he seethed through his teeth, before it was something slipped right before them, what looked to be a mere child stood before Elegy and Louis. Louis merely looked upon this girl as if she were the most sickening thing on the planet, a clear look of revulsion upon his handsome features. Elegy, quivering a bit as she held at bay the urge to cry out from the pain coming from her diaphragm, gazed upon the young one with a glint of questioning within her eyes. There was within her mind no thought pertaining to the girl’s appearance, or the fact that she was panting as she was.

Just as Louis was about to demand to know what she wanted, she showed to them a small leather bag with a familiar sigil upon it, speaking as well, “Hah… Hello there… I’m with Damian Cline…” she was smiling, receiving a number of glares from nobles scattered around the Duke’s foyer for daring to have come up to the couple of the evening with so little care. Elegy quickly recognized the insignia adorning the girl’s bag—and the name spoken by her. Damian Cline was a local, renown Alchemist who was highly skilled in his given profession, though he was not known as the kindest of souls. Though she’d not met him in person before, she knew of him because he was the man who made the medicine taken by her mother to sustain what poor health she held onto now. . . .

The girl could not say anything though, she couldn’t respond to the child as things were. “The Alchemist…? I’m looking for… Ah… An Elegy Lovell…? Is she here?”

Louis gave the girl one of his phony smiles, appearing to look as if he were the happiest man on Leu Chrysallia before he answered, “Ahh, so you are employed by Mr. Cline then? You must be one who has a wealth of interesting stories to share given your work, Lovely Young Miss.” A soft chuckle before lightly gesturing to Elegy who was still suffering from the intense grip Louis had upon her middle. “This stunning young woman would happen to be the lady of the night; Elegy Lovell.”

To the introduction given by Louis, Elegy looked back to him, her breathing having become shallow, her face feeling hot, body tired. He looked down to her, a look of falsified concern playing over his features, “Ohh, Love, are you not well?” he looked back to the girl, “It would seem that the poor thing’s starting to suffer from one of her bouts with her ill health again. I suppose that the evening has been too much for her to handle all at once. . . .”

At this point, there came a call. “Louis! Come here my boy, there is someone here who would like to congratulate you in person on your marriage tomorrow!” Louis looked over toward his father, smiling at the Duke warmly, happily.

“I will be there in a moment father—Elegy is unwell at the moment, I’m going to see that she is seated properly!” Louis responded, suddenly releasing Elegy from the death grip he’d had upon her, keeping his around her still to make it look as if he were supporting her.

The suddenness of the act caused Elegy to half-yelp, a breathy sort of noise slipping from her rouge lips as her legs became jellylike beneath her, and nearly gave out. She about descended to the floor in a heap, only to be caught by the arm Louis had around her still, he held her weight up, arm looped underneath her own. “Now, my dear Love, do be careful . . . would you please? I don’t want you forcing yourself to appear well if you are not. Come now; let’s get you into a chair so that you may rest.”

Trembling, Elegy said nothing in response to what Louis had said to her, and did only as he told her—walking along with him as he guided her back toward the table, and lowered her into a seat. Louis remained bent over her chair though, hovering over top of her, his face hidden from the eyes of others as he looked upon her, expression grave and seemingly one of annoyance with her. “Be a good girl, Love, lest you just have things take a very unpleasant turn again. Are we clear?”

A slight frown formed on Elegy’s features at this, her arms were lightly draped around her aching middle, not understanding why he was being this way with her. “. . . .y-yes Louis.”

He gave her a stomach churning smile before he stood back to his full height, “Very good of you. Now, do feel better.”

With that, the Duke’s son turned upon the heel of his shoe, and strutted toward his father as if he were the proudest man alive, smiling that rehearsed smile of his again. All Elegy heard before the chatter of the surrounding crowd engulfed the voice of the Duke was, “Now, Louis, allow me to introduce you to our, ah, cousins, Lord and Lady Rosebery. . . .”

In the absence of her fiancé, Elegy sank into her seat, slouching downward as her head fell forward; tears were prickling at her eyes. Why had Louis hurt her so? She didn’t understand it, Violetta had spoke of the night as if there was nothing that could go wrong, that would. Yet, for some reason, Louis had gone and . . . he was. . . . Why? Her ribs ached, her middle felt tender and sore. Undoubtedly it was beginning to bruise. A soft whimper slipped from the blonde’s lips, as she very nearly forgot the fact that she and Louis had been approached by the young miss who was associated with the Alchemist, Damian Cline.

Slip

“Ahh, so you are employed by Mr. Cline then? You must be one who has a wealth of interesting stories to share given your work, Lovely Young Miss.” The man replied to her with a smile that she found to be nearly as lovely as the dear little plants that she took care of in Damian's greenhouse. She did adore the little things. Damian had told her that she was never to touch them directly since they were something called a "Cactus".

As her thoughts wet back to his words, though, she found her face turn a shade of pink comparable to the color of her dress. She hadn't really done much of anything... Really, the only very exciting thing that had happened within the past week was when she had been swallowed by a plant that Damian had been experimenting on. It had actually been a rather unpleasant experience. The acid burns on her arms were still healing.

Before she could say as much, though, the man continued. “This stunning young woman would happen to be the lady of the night; Elegy Lovell.”

The thoughts flew out of Slip's head when she heard that. This girl was Elegy? She was so... Pretty, Slip decided. She was very pretty. In fact, she was so pretty that Slip didn't want anything bad to happen to her. If she was sick, she might not be pretty any more, and Slip didn't want that to happen.

As she looked closer, though, Slip noticed something odd. It was obvious that the force being exerted upon Elegy's sides by the mix of Louis's arm and the presence of his body next to her was causing Elegy's own body to become somewhat constricted, possibly causing bruising in the abdominal area, labored breathing and asphyxiation leading to the loss of consciousness, and considerable pain near, but not limited to, the areas directly around the ribcage. Slip did not know Louis's reasons for doing this, but she did note that Slip had noticed a similar action done between two people as a sign of affection. This action, however, involved the use of not one but two arms, and Slip herself had taken to doing it to Damian and other people she was close with, though that number was small. Of course, the action, called a "hug" had been reciprocated by everyone but Damian. As such, Damian being the person about whom Slip cared the most about, She deduced that it was customary to not reciprocate an action such as this if the one to whom it was being done knew that they were the object of deep affection by the person who commenced the action. Thus, It was must be that Louis held great affections for her, and Elegy knew this, and so she did not do the same. Slip supposed that it would make sense, given that they were to become married. Though she knew little about marriage, it was a bond for life that apparently happened between two humans who loved each other, wherein a female gave her consent to a male to allow him to impregnate her and cause her to bear his children, thereby continuing the race of humans.

Someone called to Louis and he released Elegy, who looked somewhat weak and pained. Had the man's display of affection hurt her? Slip could not have that, since if that was the case, it would be happening fairly often during the course of the evening. As he led Elegy over to a chair and told her something, Slip strained to hear it. However, she only caught Elegy managing to stammer a "yes" to him.

Slip listened to the words he spoke that she could hear, and it was apparent that Louis blamed her weakness on Elegy's health issues, so it would be better than not if Slip took the time to examine her a bit. She quietly strode over to where the girl sat in her chair, looking pale and sickly. Still, though, Slip had to admit that she was beautiful even in this state.

"Excuse me, Miss Elegy...?" she spoke up. It was a source of annoyance to her that her voice did not carry with it the clear quality that Damian's had that allowed him to make someone cease their speaking with a few uttered words, nor did it carry the weight that his seemed to. Her voice had a soft, delicate sound to it, and she could scarcely ever make it increase it to the point where she could be heard from a distance.

"I'm apologize if it is an interruption, but I would very much enjoy if you would allow me to examine you, since you don't seem to be feeling well." she said with a short bow she had seen given to people around the pavilion, who were all dressed rather nicely. "Ah... Also, I believe that the area around your ribcage has been bruised, since earlier. It is also possible, though unlikely, that your lungs have sustained an injury as well. It would be a great help to me if you could now remove your dress and any other garments that could inhibit the process, as I may need to apply a medication to your skin. I would also ask that you refrain from engaging in acts of affection that end in your potential harm until the evening is over." she said, giving Elegy a wide smile to assure her that, as a physician and alchemist, Slip was able to help Elegy.

God, he loved a good party. Okay, so in reality, it kind of sucked. It was just a bunch of people dancing around each other in the hopes of never meeting and never making any sort of eye-contact at all whatsoever. This sort of party was just a terrible mix of prissy aristocrats and the desperate commoners. The point of the party was to bring peace between the classes. It was supposed to erase that invisible line between the people and show that they were all on the same level for at least one night where they could just forget about their troubles and do as they pleased. But it wasn't really like that, was it? Of course not. Just look at these people. Nothing can satisfy the rich, the vain, and the greedy. Their noses are stuck so far up in the air you'd think they were put off by their own bosoms. That thought made him laugh to himself.

Jeremiah did not immediately insert himself with this awkward mix of a crowd and instead found himself watching them all from a distance for the longest time. He was trying to see all the angles of this place. It was definitely huge on the outside and he knew it could only get better on the inside. There were more rich than there were poor and it shouldn't be hard at all to tell the two parties apart. There was obviously a reason for this whole grand show. Despite the people being a rotten bunch, the wide display of lights and decorations, and not to mention the extravagant foods, were magnificent and only suitable for an event of a high caliber. Now, what that event must be was totally lost to him. He'd literally come across this whole thing through pure luck. One moment, he'd been wandering along having a conversation with his own angry stomach, and the next he'd followed a small group of people all fancied up and found this treasure trove. Man, sometimes he swore he could just kiss himself.

Alright, let's crash this party--oh, hello. Jeremiah's eyes ran away from him as a sort of...how would one put it...plush-rumped beauty--ah yes, perfect--traveled past him without so much as a glance in his direction. It was probably for the best since it would have been quite obvious that his eyes were not following her face. With a lopsided grin, he couldn't help but pick his feet up off the ground and float after the big-bummed beauty, completely losing track of his whole point in being there. Unfortunately, despite his incomparable, er, watch on the woman, he'd lost her in the crowd of people. With his senses regained and the woman's mesmerizing hold on him taken away, Jeremiah decided now was as good a time as ever to get down to business.

...Riiiiight after he got a good look at that buffet over there. Yes, that looked like the perfect place for all the best, ah, loot to be hiding. Those rolls looked suspicious. They could be hiding gold coins or--gasp!--even poison! Who knew what kind of no-good, low-down villain would try to put a stain on this fine event by poisoning the food. Oh, yeah, he had to try them for the safety of everybody. He had to try all of them. And ooh, some of that meat, and...oh man, definitely those...whatever they were. Who even cared? They tasted delicious. Oh yes, definitely poisoned. Totally. Good thing he decided to put his life on the line like this. Man, these people didn't know just what kind of hero they were dealing with here.

And just what was he looking at? Huh? "Wha, nevfah sheen a mashterpiesh like fme 'efore?" It was after stating this beautifully articulated sentence that Jeremiah decided to swallow all the food he'd been harvesting in his mouth. The guy didn't have a response for him other than a rather rude 'hmph!' before he turned and walked away, wanting nothing more to do with the idiot eating the food like it was the first time he ever ate. Jeremiah merely shrugged and turned back to the table, not nearly satisfied, when his attention was diverted to a gathering crowd. He raised an eyebrow and munched quietly on an apple, watching the events unfold in curiosity.

So this was the point of the party, huh? Some tight-lipped prick and his soon-to-be-bride. What a hottie. While the guy was a sight to see, the girl definitely took the glow of the room. Even with her own nearly pained expression, she was able to maintain a composure of elegance and an expression of peace. Jeremiah knew people well enough to see right through that parlor trick. He shook his head and tossed the half-eaten apple in a random direction behind him, not caring where it landed (on some guy's head, knocking his toupee right off to the horror of the woman he'd been attempting to romance). Jeremiah wanted a better look at this girl. He bet he could treat her right. Well, better than a guy like that anyway. Then again, who was he to judge? What did he have to offer than an overly rich aristocrat couldn't? Love? Happiness? Hah, yeah right. That's not what paid the bills.

There was a short-lived speech given by the man as he introduced the woman as his bride-to-be, followed by a short interruption from a woman up front. Jeremiah watched as the blond seemingly fell ill and took refuge in a chair on the outskirts of the party. And now's my chance to introduce myself to the lady of the hour~ He started strolling over to her, but his steps fell short when someone else--the girl from earlier--approached the blond woman before him. Jeremiah's shoulders fell for just a moment before he managed to regain his confidence. So whaaat? The girl just looked like she was giving the girl a check up anyway, probably making sure she wasn't actually ill. Jeremiah had a nagging feeling that she wasn't.

Ignoring the other woman for the time being (and maybe slightly bumping her out of the way on his way by), Jeremiah approached the woman of the hour with a bright grin on his face. He didn't ask for her hand and merely took it upon himself to take it from her anyway, placing a sweet kiss on it before returning it to her. He stood straight, trying to look as official as any of these aristo-wannabes. "Helloooo madam...what was it again? I'm afraid I missed your name with all that beauty." He stepped aside to let the woman who'd already been there continue doing what she was trying to do beforehand, not bothering to apologize for his intrusion. Well, sad or not, she's no different than any others. I bet she would know where the best stuff is held. He turned his smile to the woman standing by. "Are you the doctor? Is there anything I can do to help this beautiful maiden~? Besides being here, of course."

Sometimes it was hard for Jeremiah to keep from laughing at his own stupidity. "Don't you think she needs some rest? I could take her up to her room and make sure she remains safe until then." He winked at the girl. He just assumed she was a doctor or nurse of the house, maybe a servant, which explained why he didn't bother using as many formalities on her as he did on the blond woman, but he wasn't completely sure. She looked like the type, but then again, he'd been wrong before. It didn't really matter either way, though, considering one way or another he was going to get himself into that fine establishment and rob them blind. The issue was getting inside. And well, here was his ticket! How lucky could one guy even get in a night? "I promise, you can trust me. I would never do anything to harm a lady." Maybe I could do her a favor. I do feel kind of bad.. Kind of.

"Oh, m'lady, you seem to have a piece of grass stuck in your hair. Let me help you with that." Jeremiah leaned forward and brushed back her hair, lowering his voice to a level that only she should be able to hear. "Poor lady, you're looking sad. I could help you with this...situation." With that, he leaned back and beamed brightly at her once again. "I got it! So, what do you two say? May I?"

Her breath came to her poorly, in short desperate gasps as pain would ripple through her middle with every inhale and exhale. She had done nothing wrong, nothing that should’ve upset Louis yet he’d . . . hurt her so. The girl’s clothed fingers very gently ran overtop her tender ribs, her eyes upon the area as a clearly uncertain expression had taken toot upon her features. Elegy just didn’t understand this, Louis had told her to behave herself, but, she had been before he had gone and squeezed her middle like a constricting serpent. What was it the man defined as ‘behaving?’ What had she done to upset him? Why did he want to hurt her?

Tears were rimming her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment, giving her cerulean eyes the look of polished glass. As it was the noble born girl released a fairly shaky exhale, little jolts of pain shooting through her, her attention was caught up by the soft, subtle voice of the girl who was associated, and evidently employed by Damian Cline. “Excuse me, Miss Elegy…?”

Very slowly, Elegy turned her head upward, a distant sort of look on her face. Her hand remained placed over her aching ribs, lightly placed there by instinct in order to protect it from further injury. The girl was a fragile looking one, she was small, and her hair and eyes were of unusual coloring. “I'm apologize if it is an interruption, but I would very much enjoy if you would allow me to examine you, since you don't seem to be feeling well." The young miss gave a shallow bow, “Ah... Also, I believe that the area around your ribcage has been bruised, since earlier. It is also possible, though unlikely, that your lungs have sustained an injury as well. It would be a great help to me if you could now remove your dress and any other garments that could inhibit the process, as I may need to apply a medication to your skin. I would also ask that you refrain from engaging in acts of affection that end in your potential harm until the evening is over.”

Elegy kept herself quiet, as she merely stared at the girl while she gave a warm and assuring smile. She was unaware of what it was Louis had been doing, innocent to the fact that what he’d been hurting her. That was how Louis wanted to make it appear, he didn’t want anyone to openly realize that he’d possessed a death grip on her middle, and grasped onto her so tightly as to injure her. The Duke-to-be was off; speaking with his father and their cousins, chattering away about Goddess knew what. And she, she’d been left with a warning to behave herself, whatever it was that meant, Elegy did not know what it was that Louis considered that to be. If she managed to do something that again upset him, he would only hurt her again, wouldn’t he? Would admitting injury to the Alchemist’s Assist anger him?

Not wanting things to take a turn she would not know how to cope with yet again, Elegy hesitantly shook her head back and forth, slowly. “M-my apologies, Miss, b-but I cannot comply. My fiancé, Louis, h-he will be seeking me out after it is that he has been dismissed by Duke Auttenberg.” Elegy spoke to her, her voice soft, and breathy from the tender ache that plagued her diaphragm with every small move she made. “I am grateful for your concern though, it is appreciated. . . .” she bowed her head to the girl, unable to do much else to express herself as far as gestures went.

Her mother wanted what was best for her, and what was best for her involved her marrying Louis, even if she did not at all understand the man, and the reasons he had for being upset with her. That meant having to refuse medical attention or aid, to keep her fiancé from being upset. I-I have to mind myself carefully.

Sensing the presence of another before her, Elegy brought herself to slowly glance upward, her face was ashen at this point, herself looking weary. But, before her stood yet another individual, a boy of whom was about her age. He was a handsome one, even Elegy herself knew enough to admit as much true, and he was attractive in a way different than Louis was though. . . . She did not say a word to this stranger, only she stared at him until it was that a bright grin overtook the lad’s face, and he reach out and plucked one of her hands from her middle, to place a kiss on it, before letting go.

The act was enough to cause a slight tinge of pink to surface upon Elegy’s face. But, he stood up straightly, “Helloooo madam...what was it again? I'm afraid I missed your name with all that beauty.” The flush on her face deepened at this, this sort of treatment was not something with which she was accustomed.

Though embarrassed by the compliment, Elegy herself was reluctant toward it; why was this boy was paying her with sweet words and such greetings . . . ? Her middle was aching, Louis could’ve returned to her at any time now, and Elegy didn’t know how it was he would react if he found this strange boy here with her.

His next words were directed toward the Alchemist’s Assist, “Are you the doctor? Is there anything I can do to help this beautiful maiden~? Besides being here, of course. Don't you think she needs some rest? I could take her up to her room and make sure she remains safe until then.” Elegy tipped her head downward again, her cheeks still tinted a shade of red, her hands draped over her stomach once more. “I promise, you can trust me. I would never do anything to harm a lady.”

Why was he being so very insistent, and why would he regard her with such treatment . . . ? It was strange, so very strange. Elegy was far from used to this sort of treatment, but. . . . She felt that she didn’t mind it? However, there remained the grim fact that she did not know how Louis was going to react toward this man being near her, she didn’t want him upset again. “Oh, m’lady, you seem to have a piece of grass stuck in your hair. Let me help you with that.” the boy leaned down, forward, brushing some of her hair back. Elegy knew that she didn’t have anything in her hair, much less grass. . . . She could only look at him in confusion, before it was he spoke to her in a low, quiet voice, “Poor lady, you’re looking sad. I could help you with this...situation.”

Hearing this from him, the noble born daughter felt her heart skip a beat in her chest, and her eyes drew away from him to gaze forward, a mildly pained expression formed over her make-upped face, Help . . . me? she questioned as he stood up and away from her. Her mother had thought it was best for her to marry Louis, for her fate to become the wife of a future Duke, Violetta wanted Elegy to lead the best life she could, so she’d set things up as they were now. That was how it was supposed to go, wasn’t it? If this is how my life is suppose to go, then why is it that someone would say I was looking sad, and that they wanted to help me?

What did that mean, exactly? A strange sensation shuddered through Elegy’s body, something she didn’t quite understand—a sentiment which made her almost squirm. She was supposed to get married, wasn’t she? That was how it was supposed to be . . . ?

The boy smiled at her again, “I got it! So, what do you two say? May I?” he asked.

Elegy looked up to him again, confusion dancing over her features. No one before had ever said that she ‘looked sad,’ nor did they offer to ‘help’ her. She did not understand this; was it kindness he expressed toward her? Did she not have to marry Louis as her mother had told her? If this was true, then why was it that Louis had been upset with her before, if he did not want anything to do with her then couldn’t he have just backed out of their engagement? The blonde’s hands were still upon her middle, her ribs bruising, it had become hard for her to breathe due to the pain. Louis had . . . hurt her, why? Why had he?

Was that what Violetta wanted for her, to lead a life with someone who hurt her like that? Was that really meant to be her fate? Elegy’s eyes flickered over in the direction of Louis and his father as the two seemed to be speaking with another man, another Duke she believed she recognized though had never spoken with. . . . Feigning pleasantries again, acting as if he were proud and happy that he would be marrying her tomorrow. . . . Yet, he had hurt her, become upset with her for reasons she did not at all know.

Still looking uncertain, Elegy’s eyes travelled back to the Alchemist’s Assist, before returning to the boy, “I-I . . . do not have to marry Louis . . . ?” she asked them both, quietly, voice so soft that it was hard to hear her over the chatter of the crowd. The eyes of many nobles were glancing in her direction, peering between Elegy and the strange, unknown boy who was near her. Several of the noblewomen were beginning to gossip among themselves regarding that.

A look of what seemed to be desperation overcame the girl’s features, as she felt her heart beginning to flutter within her chest as she moved forward in her chair, pain going through her from her middle. “If I do not want to enter into marriage with him, I do not have to? I am allowed to decide whether or not I do?” her voice was laced with an edge of agony, yet the tone within it was a stronger one, one that revealed how very anxious she was. Tears were beginning to form within her eyes again.

Yet, what Elegy had failed to notice in the moment of her asking this of the two strangers, was that Louis had indeed returned to her side, having been sent away from his father. “Elegy dear, what are you speaking of now?”

Hearing the voice of her fiancé, the girl froze up, and her eyes went wide. Slowly, she turned her head up to see that the Duke-to-be was standing over her, she gave him no answer.

Louis was attempting to maintain a composed air, to act as if he was not bothered by what he had heard her ask, but the facade he maintained was beginning to crumble. “I returned to see if you were yet recovered from your sudden bout of illness, and I come to hear you say you do not desire marriage with me . . . ? What does this mean?”

She opened her mouth, body beginning to quiver as she remembered what Louis had said before taking to his father, that she needed to behave, and she’d agreed. By asking what she had, she had broken the word she’d given to him. “L-Louis. . . .” Elegy started; voice hesitant.

A hand went up, and the hurt expression carried by Louis faded—he tilted forward, setting a hand upon Elegy’s shoulder, his mouth near to her ear. “I thought I told you to straighten yourself up, didn’t you agree to do so before? Did you lie to me Elegy?” he hissed, voice seeping from his lips like venom.

Elegy remained seated, still, eyes wide. She had given her word to him as he said.

“Here, I’m trying to be a good fiancé to you, even though you’re nothing more than a worthless little whore who my father picked up from nowhere. . . . And I slip off for not even ten minutes, and I return to find you talking about running away from your commitment to me with some bastard of a peasant boy?” The grip Louis had on Elegy’s shoulder tightened up.

A whimper slipped from Elegy’s lips this time, as she did her best to keep it contained—she couldn’t lose it, she had to maintain herself, she’d already acted in a way improper. No matter what had been offered to her by the boy, she shouldn’t have acted as she had. But still, the thought of it, the question of a choice lingered. . . .

“You’ve got some gull, don’t you? You act demure, innocent and submissive, but you couldn’t be more of a bitch; no matter what you want, what you have planned or think, you are engaged to me, and will become my wife in the morning. And, I’ll teach you to act like a proper woman!” Elegy cried out suddenly, as Louis grasped onto her other shoulder as well, squeezing both with near enough force to break her fragile bones.

N-No . . . this, this. . . . NO! she’d been given a glimpse of choice, shown for a moment that this was not what she had to commit to for the rest of her life, no matter what it was that Violetta had decided for her. Surely, Violetta, her mother, did not want for her daughter to be caught up in something with left her unhappy? And, against what Louis expected, what most would’ve, Elegy’s hands moved from her middle, frantically, one ending up against Louis’ face, the other upon the man’s chest. Despite the severe jolt of pain that travelled through her middle and shoulders, Elegy suddenly rose up to her feet, shoving Louis away from her.

“N-No!” she shouted at him, her arms wrapping back around herself. “Why do you keep hurting me? If are so insistent on us being married, Louis, then why is it that you harm me . . . ?” she asked him, “If you do not want me, if you do not desire me as a wife, then why do you not just call off the wedding? I do not understand why. . . . Is there not a choice in this?”

Elegy looked back over to the boy who’d offered his help. Louis was clutching onto his face, acting as if Elegy had harmed him in pushing him away. “Tch, I don’t need to put up with this shit, not from a worthless harlot like you.” The man seethed, anger on his face as it was he suddenly turned on his heel and angrily stepped away, heading down the steps and out of sight.

When it was that Louis was out of sight, Elegy’s expression became an overwhelmed one, and her face paled before she tipped backward and fell back into the seat behind her, holding onto her middle.

It did not make sense to her, for him to demand her as a bride if he did not desire her. He had hurt her, somehow she’d displeased him and as a result he’d hurt her. This marriage was an arranged one, pieced together by Duke Auttenberg and her mother, Violetta. Her mother had done this because she believed it to be in Elegy’s best interests—of this she was sure. But, in the case of Louis, the reason for him to go along with the marriage, if it was unwanted, she could not understand why. If one had a choice, if they were unhappy and had a choice to slip away from it, then why would they not? The boy had offered her a choice, a chance. If she had one then why did not Louis? Certainly, he had one as well, if not happy then why . . . ?

Breathing shaky at best, shoulders and her middle hurting, Elegy remained in her seat, her hands lightly over her middle as she tried to regain her better senses while it was the people around all went about chattering among themselves concerning the subject of how she’d just regarded Louis. It was of no consequence . . . the nobles always prattled on and gossiped as this. Rumors spread like wildfire between them, as did names and insults. This was something she’d come to learn in her short lifetime. And, it was something she did not understand, as with most things. It made no sense to her.

I do not have to marry Louis, and he does not have to marry me. If he is not happy with myself as a wife, then he does not need to worry. she thought to herself, her cerulean eyes shut, We do not have to be together as husband and wife.

The sense of it, the notion of having a choice in this—it made Elegy feel almost lightheaded, it made her tremble a bit, it was a nervous feeling to think that she had a. . . . Chance, that she had freedom? Hope, and an opportunity. As her heart began to slow in her chest, and the ache within her diaphragm began to lessen, she found her hand stolen away from her middle; a firm grip was upon it, but not one that sent trepidation through her. It was not Louis’. The action caused Elegy to release a questioning sound, and for her to crane her neck upward, her eyes open. A gentle tug, and she was up to her feet again, pain went through her middle again. And, from it she cringed, a soft moan slipping from her.

Her breathing became irregular again, and though it felt as if her legs were ready to give out from under her, Elegy kept herself standing as best she could. This was not Louis, it was the boy who’d regarded her with compliments, and sweet words before and offered her his help, given her a glimpse of a choice in this life. “Oh, poor lady! You're looking very ill! Come with me and I'll take you to rest!" the boy shouted, though obvious he was speaking solely to her. Elegy looked up at him, a pained and questioning expression playing over her face. She didn’t understand why’d he had been so very . . . loud.

But he, he did not mean her harm, he meant to be of help to her. He had offered her his aid. . . .

Given the fact that he had spoken in such a very loud voice, Elegy found herself and him the victim of many stares and dirty looks from many of the surrounding nobles. As she felt a hand upon the small of her back, she heard the hushed voices beginning again, talking among themselves about the sight of Louis’ fiancé with an unknown boy, being led away from the party meant to honor her and her future-husband. As if the scene between her and him hadn’t been enough a minute before. . . . Gossiping as the only thing these so-called-nobles seemed to know how to do though, for why it was they had to speak among themselves of matters which had no true significance, Elegy did not understand. It was something she never understood. It seemed as if there were many things she didn’t comprehend . . . thinking about that.

Gently and slowly enough, she was led along toward the Duke’s manor, out of the limelight and the eyes of the many people who only thought her as fodder for their gossip. Walking along, it was a painful thing to do now. The bruise which wrapped around much of her middle sent an aching ripple through her with every little step she took, Elegy could not help but wincing the whole time she moved.

This territory she was passing the threshold into, moving on from what had been planned for her, decided, into a place new. It was frightening in a way, to know that with every bit she moved forward, she was taking herself off the path she’d treaded already for the whole of her life. By allowing herself along with this stranger, this boy who’d paid heed to her with his compliments. . . . Elegy knew that she was taking herself away from what her mother had thought best for her. She was taking things into her own hands, deciding upon matters in her own life for the first time.

Louis did not want her as a wife, yet insisted upon her marrying him. Delight would not be found for either her or him if they wedded. There was a choice. Each had an option, she’d been shown as much. Though Louis grew weary of her talk, and did not want to hear what it was she had to say, Elegy was ready to accept this opportunity. Heart aflutter within, fear brimming over in her soul, she was indeed frightened, but desperate.

As she was taken into the confines of the manor, Elegy was able to faintly hear from behind a shout, the Alchemist’s apprentice calling out, “Hey! Miss Elegy! Stop… Please!” Elegy could not help but glancing back a bit. The young lass’ duty had been to tend to her, but it seemed as if that was not to happen. The plans for how the night would go were quickly changing. . . .

Her gaze travelled back upward, to look at the boy. Upon his face was a smile, a lively sort that he held a finger to in order to offer as a gesture to remain quiet. To this, she gave him a nod, understanding. He wanted to help her . . . so it was he did not stop leading her inside. Their combined presence earned glances and stares from several noble and servants who lingered in the building, and toward them, she simply kept her own head down, eyes averted. The jade-haired boy though, he offered amicable greetings and waved, enough was his breeziness, that they were not engaged in conversation or called aside.

The pain from her ribs and her surely-bruising shoulders Elegy endured, putting her faith into this stranger who still guided her along. Traversing through the hallways, turning through the labyrinth-like corridors that comprised the first floor of the Auttenberg house, the two of them at last reach a desolate, quiet area. Pulled down in a narrow passage, the hand the boy had been holding to help her along was released, leaving her on her own two feet again. The ache remained, and gently Elegy returned her hands to her middle. Cradling the area while it was the jade-haired boy began to speak; she looked upon him with discomfort in her eyes from standing. “This seems like a good enough place. We should be able to speak freely here.” he grinned rather widely, "Listen, lady, I'm gonna kill the fancy talk and cut straight to the objective: you and me? We're getting out of here. This place is no place for a person like you. You still have life in you. Those vultures back there are just empty souls. But you...you're something different."

Elegy tipped her head to the side a bit, not entirely understanding what he meant by her being ‘something different,’ but the idea of him . . . helping her, offering to take her from this, to give her a choice. . . . I-I can, I can find happiness. . . . she thought, as she found herself biting down upon her lower lip. She could feel the prickle of tears forming behind her eyes, the cerulean orbs turned glassy as her frame began to quiver a touch.

The boy coughed before clearing his throat, “ You do get a choice.” he stood right in front of her, looking around. “I don't even have to ask what you want. You made your choice back there.” Had she already . . . ? Already made her choice without even really realizing it? Elegy swallowed back an urge to cry as an overwhelming sentiment seemed to settle in upon her. “You can trust me, lady. If you follow me and listen to me, I can take you to places you've only ever dreamed of seeing. These people? They would be jealous to hear about it. I know you don't know me, but...can you trust me?” There came from him again a charming smile, “I promise to take you out of here. All you have to do is show me the way out and I'll take you right along with me.”

This sort of treatment from him, this kindness, it was something she was not accustom with still. Kindness, being given the opportunity to expression her own volition, a prospect at some sense of bliss? Not even she herself realized how very deep the yearning for this was. With the opportunity for it before her now, Elegy found herself unable to stop from shaking. It was consuming, the idea of it, of freedom. Arms still around her diaphragm she had to shut her eyes to try to keep the tears at bay—though the attempt failed. Unable to contain it, the tears managed to slip from her eyes.

There was so much now, the fear of entering into uncharted waters, potential freedom, kindness being shown to her, the sudden feeling of desperation, the want for this. . . . Elegy nodded fervently a couple of times before drawing a hand up to cover her mouth and her nose, opening her eyes. The idea of marriage, of being bound to a man who did not want her as his wife; she did not want such a Fate. She had thought there were no choices for her, that she had to submit to it. Louis did not want her, why he did not just say so, she didn’t understand but. . . .

For the moment, the pain in her shoulders and diaphragm were forgotten as she attempted to speak, all of what she felt seeped into her voice. “Please, please, I-I cannot, knowing I do not have to. . . . Having an alternative—y-you have both my faith, and my trust.” Elegy’s voice wavered with her anxiety, yes, she was scared, but this was what she wanted. “Th-there is fear for this, but if I am allowed to decide, then I-I will decide to not marry Louis. He does not desire me as a wife, if he did then. . . .” A shake of her head. “He is insistent on wedding me however, so, please . . . take me away from here . . . !” The noble-born daughter lowered her head to him.

It was as this happened, that she felt a tugging upon the high gloves she wore, and a familiar voice spoke, “Miss, I am sorry, but as your current physician, I would strongly suggest that you take a moment to rest, please…” Elegy looked over, seeing that it was the Alchemist’s apprentice, having managed to track herself and the jade-haired boy down.

She was insistent as well it seemed. But, at least, the young miss had Elegy’s wellbeing in mind, wanting only to tend to her. Elegy felt the pain within her diaphragm return full force, having had it off her mind with the prospect of escaping this life. The agony slammed her back into reality, however, causing her to groan suddenly, clutching onto her middle as her make-upped and tear-stained face fell victim to a grimace, and she found her legs weak too much for a moment as she near came to fall to the blood red carpet below. From within, she could feel something. . . . It slipped from her bones, a sort of heat that did not bode well. Outward it escaped, seeping into her muscles until it finally managed to her surface. Pain came with this; it felt as if she were beginning to burn from the inside out.

However though, to most any observer, it would appear as if Elegy had just broken out in a sudden fever. . . .

In situations like these, Jeremiah liked to think he was pretty confident of it going well. But if the past was anything to think back to, his luck was both the best and the worst in any given situation, so really this could go any way. This lovely, broken little lady right here was well worth the repair that she needed. She was obviously in distress and it gave him a sort of tight-twisted feeling to see the relief wash over her. He could tell she was in more pain than just mentally and emotionally, however. Maybe taking her away from that nurse back there wasn't the smartest idea, but there wasn't much they could do it about it now. If the pain in her sides became any more serious, then he supposed he could just carry her, but, well, in all honesty, that sort of sounded like it would suck. She didn't seem to be very heavy and he wasn't all that weak, but man, he didn't want to carry this girl around everywhere. It was so inconvenient.

He heard a noise behind them and took a quick glance over his shoulder, squinting down the hall, but finding nothing. He made sure to keep an ear out for it, whatever it was, but went back to focusing on the girl. What was her name again? Did he ever catch it? Didn't that fiance guy say it or something? Ugh, he couldn't remember. “Please, please, I-I cannot, knowing I do not have to. . . . Having an alternative—y-you have both my faith, and my trust.” Jeremiah grinned reassuringly in hopes that it would calm her down. He wasn't sure what to do otherwise. He was afraid to drag her around any more than he already had. The movement from outside to inside seemed to have taken its toll on her. It only made him want to go back and punch that fiance of hers right in the face, but he wasn't here to cause trouble. For once.

“Th-there is fear for this, but if I am allowed to decide, then I-I will decide to not marry Louis. He does not desire me as a wife, if he did then. . . .” She shook her head as if she was completely relieving herself of his memory. “He is insistent on wedding me however, so, please . . . take me away from here . . . !” That's what I like to hear. Jeremiah nodded and resisted reaching out to pat her head. Instead, he kept his hands at his sides, not sure what the small motion would do to her. She was already in a frail, vulnerable state and he didn't want her changing her mind just because he decided to pat her head like a child. The movement, although small, might scare her off or intimidate her in some way. It seemed ridiculous, but he didn't want to risk it.

Which brought him back to the question on what to do with her physical situation... “Miss, I am sorry, but as your current physician, I would strongly suggest that you take a moment to rest, please…” Jeremiah nearly jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of the familiar face. Speak of the devil and she will...well, okay, no that wasn't quite right. The devil in this case was that fiance, but this lady had a much kinder face, albeit a boring one. Had she been following them this whole time? Sneaky little prick. He hadn't even noticed her! The look she shot him did not go by unnoticed and he merely gave her a look of innocence in return, smiling sheepishly.

He was about to say something when the noble girl's condition seemed to worsen. She noticeably swayed, so he quickly placed an arm around her to keep her from falling to her knees. "She looks like she's really sick..." He knew he was pointing out the obvious here, so he moved on, looking at the apparent nurse of the situation--the snooty little bore who bothered following after them. "Since you're so keen on taking care of her, then take care of her already. Here, come here." He softened his voice for the sake of the noble woman. "I'm going to pick you up, now, okay? It might hurt, but bear with me." Without waiting for her to reply with whether or not she was ready, Jeremiah took it upon himself to quickly and swiftly sweep the girl off her feet, carrying her bridal style in the most careful way he could manage. He knew her middle must be giving her more pain than ever because of the movement, but it would be easier than trying to lead her somewhere.

"Okay, miss...whatever you are, come here." He nodded his head for the other girl to follow, stopping at a door and listening in. When he heard nothing on the other side, he took a step back. "Okay, you can take care of her in there. I think she has a fever." Poor girl. He took a quick look around the hall while he waited for the door to be opened for him. Aaaaand while the dame is being taken care of, maybe I'll take a look around.

So, it was happening once more…the feeling of burning from the inside out. The fever’s return, coming hand-in-hand with the pain of the forming and formed bruises caused before by Louis, together it was almost too much. Enough to nearly fall to the floor below, her vision blurred, the edges of it lined with black as a detached sort of sense overtook her. For a moment, it felt as if she’d lost control over her own body. A soft whimper escaped from her lips as her eyes nearly shut. Before she could slip to the ground however, Elegy felt an arm around her middle, supporting her up so that she did not fall. The boy who was offering her, her freedom and a chance at maybe finding some sort of happiness in life…. He’d caught her.

Breathing shallow, her body trembling a bit as her senses were overwhelmed by the feeling of burning and agony, Elegy raised one a hand, and set it upon his shoulder, using it to further support herself. Her face had gone deathly pale while it became obvious that remaining awake was becoming harder.

This fever of hers, the pain from it, her very bones felt like they were going to melt from it. Though it would indeed seem as if she’d suddenly fallen ill to most any observer, like a fever had just taken over her body without warning, Elegy knew it was more than that, she knew well the reason that this was happening to her, why it always happened to her. Her blood, her Halfling blood—the fact that the blood of two races coursed through her veins. Within her was the blood of her late Salamander father, and the blood of her delicate human mother. The crossed bloodlines within rejected one another, it caused her problem after problem…fevers, illness, frailty…. Most thought she simply fell sick often due to bad health, they knew not the truth, the cause behind her problems.

If only the blood of my father and of my mother were compatible, then this would not occur…. There would not be a reason for me to be a worry for her…. she thought, a hand traverse its way upward toward the side of her head.

“She looks like she’s really sick…” the jade-haired boy spoke, speaking the obvious—but he may well have known that. He was helping her again, Elegy was placing upon him all of her trust and her faith, he had shown her that she had chances in life beyond what was planned for her. What was expected. “Since you’re so keen on taking care of her, then take care of her already.” he must’ve been speaking to the Young Miss, the Alchemist’s Apprentice. “Here, come here.” he spoke softer, words directed at her this time. He was trying to keep from scaring her, wasn’t he? Still, her breathing remained labored. What was he going to do with her…?

“I'm going to pick you up, now, okay? It might hurt, but bear with me.” Elegy had no time to reply before he lifted her off her feet, holding onto her bridal style. The unexpected movement caused Elegy to whimper, surges of pain ripped through her body. From her shoulders and from her bruised ribs, it was pure agony—the fact that the boy’s actions had caused her discomfort, it did nothing to deter the fact that she trusted him. H-he simply wishes to be of help….

Elegy’s hand remained upon the boy’s shoulder as her face squelched up into a grimace. “Okay, miss...whatever you are, come here.” he was moving, speaking to the Alchemist Apprentice. “Okay, you can take care of her in there. I think she has a fever.” They came to a stop, where Elegy didn’t know.

At hearing him say ‘fever’ though, the girl was reminded of the sense of burning she felt throughout her body—the pain of it and the fact that the intense heat was making her feel as if she were burning from the inside out. But…neither would know, the boy or the Young Miss, they wouldn’t know the truth about what was causing her this discomfort, making her seem so sick…. There would be little, if anything, that could be done in order to alleviate her of this sudden bout of fever. Unless one could unexpectedly make her crossed-blood accepting of each other, there was no way to make this cease. Breathing still hesitant and uncertain, Elegy came to shake her head, unable to support the weight of it very well, it lolled to the side, coming to rest against the jade-haired boy’s shoulder.

“I-I am not ill….” She spoke quietly, “This is not a case of fever, but a phenomenon to be blamed upon my heredity. I am a child between a human and a Salamander—my crossed blood does not do well with one another…. The Salamander half attempts to overtake the human, and the result appears as fever.” Elegy looked at the boy, tears rimming her eyes; one of her hands came to rest upon her chest. “Please…it would be but a waste of time to attempt to treat me for this, there is no remedy or cure to make it end. Let us leave here…. I-I do not wish to stay any longer than this.”