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Elegy Lovell

"My life is bound to play out as it has already, so why waste effort on being at all hopeful . . . ?"

0 · 188 views · located in Leu Chrysallia

a character in “A Phantasmagorical Metamorphose”, originally authored by Jakuri-chan, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Elegy Merle Lovell
Image

Theme: METHOD_METAFALICA/. – Orgel Arrangement
Image Song: Delirium – Epica

GENERAL INFORMATION
Role: The Fiancé
A daughter born of nobility, months before her birth, her father’s life was ended. It was claimed that he had committed an act of treason, and as a result, he was executed. . . . Left widowed and without the knowledge that she was pregnant, her mother fell ill with grief and was unable to ever recover her health. Born to a frail mother, she was raised with the pressing knowledge that the slightest upset could disturb her mother’s wellbeing, and as a result, all personal wants and desires came to be nearly forgotten as she did everything in order to make sure her mother was feeling the best she possibly could. And in the end, this has led her to sacrifice all hopes and wishes of ever leading a happy life, as she’s come to be engaged to a man she could not detest more. Despite her unhappiness, she presses onward for the sake of her ill mother, willing to go through with this marriage if it means that she will be able to live in better health. She lives her days as a rather gloomy lass, ever dismal and lonely as her notable engagement has led to her being ostracized by many people within her city, and rumors have spread like wildfire among many social circles about her as of late. . . .
Gender: Female
Nickname(s): With the social circle she was born into, Elegy grew up with few and far nicknames as it was considered improper by many to shorten or to sound too casual toward anyone of noble blood. However, there have been occasional uses of ‘Elle,’ for her nickname and the few, nicer servants working in her household who are older than she have called her ‘Love’ before due to her last name. Among the townspeople and people of certain circles though, Elegy has taken on multiple names, unpleasant titles have been applied to her out of spite, anger and jealousy. . . . Needless to say, none of these are pleasant.
Age: Eighteen
Race: Salamander-Human Halfling

APPEARANCE
Height: 5 ft 4 ins (163 cm)
Weight: 115 lbs (52 kg)
Measurements: 33-21-35 (83-53-89)
Build: Slender/Pear-Shaped
Hair Color: Golden Blonde
Eye Color: Cerulean Blue
Scars/Tattoos/Piercings: Though it might not be expected, Elegy does indeed suffer from some notable scars upon her person. Despite how it was she grew up, or at least, the environment she did, the girl underwent some rather harsh torment and bullying in her younger years that left her with a couple of nasty remnants and reminders of the incidents on her person. On her person, there are several indentures that remain on her arms and her forehead from a time when children decided that they wanted to throw rocks at her, the worst of these is the one on her forehead though, as the rock that hit her left her bleeding with a concussion. Following these, there also lays upon her skin several other notable marred areas, of which include gashes, discolorations and things of the like. . . .

As far as other things go, Elegy is indeed in possession of pierced ears, one per ear, and no other pierce-able part of her has been otherwise touched. And she has on her person no tattoos.
Description:
Hair – As far as things go, she has rather nice hair. It’s color is something to speak of, a rather unusual and rich shade of blonde, it’s healthy and has a nice sheen to it thanks to her lifestyle. Elegy’s hair is kept rather long, halfway between her waist and hips, and it is layered at her waist, shoulder blades, shoulders and her jaws while it is she keeps bangs of slightly varying length. Following her jaw length hair, she also has sections of hair which fall only to her nose and her eyes, which are the bangs she keeps—as far as a part goes, it’s off to the right side of her head while it is often that her bangs fall into her eyes and are left to frame her face. That is, this is how her hair will look if it is kept down, otherwise, when it is up, her hair will be pulled up and out of her face near entirely.
Body – In truth, she has a decent build to her. Putting it simply, she’s got to her a slender pear shaped figure, her hips measure just a bit larger than her bust while it is she has a rather thin waistline. As far as things go, her bust is a bit above average while in total, she has a healthy body, it’s slender and lithe, but it really possesses no tone to it due to her having a rather lax and inactive style of life. As far as things go, the healthy factor goes toward her face as well since it is of a healthy appearance.
Eyes – They are a beautiful blue, clear and as pure as the shade of cerulean could be.
Skin – Though it ought to be, Elegy’s skin is anything but flawless. Indeed, she is the daughter of a noble; the girl is suffering from scar after scar on her person due to incidents in her childhood of bullying and such things because of her lineage, jealousy and rumors being spread about her due to her birth and the fact that her father was executed before she was born. There is a far amount of scars and such on her person. . . .
Expressions – Normally it’s a rather gloomy one, Elegy is a girl who has more or less seemed to have given up on living anything akin to a happy life and this shows on the expressions she normally carries. It’s one of hopelessness, one that is listless and that betrays her natural beauty; it makes her seem like she’s little more than a doll doing what it is she’s told. Her life and situation seem to be wholly without chance of change, and she seems like she’ll be stuck within it forever . . . so it is with this that she’s gone ahead and bid farewell to all expectation she ever had for happiness, so she always looks dismal, although that’s not really in line with who it is Elegy is on the inside.

Preferred Clothing: In truth, with how she’s been her whole life, Elegy really has no taste in clothing, no personal preference or anything of the sort, as sad as that is . . . she wears what is left out for her to put on and does what she’s told.

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MENTALITY
Oddities: For being as small as she is, Elegy has an unusually large appetite, she gets hungry often and tends to eat so much food, you’d think she’d be making herself sick. This couldn’t be further from the truth though, as Elegy always seems perfectly content after a meal despite having consumed enough food for someone twice her size. The girl is a food lover, and appreciates a good meal, always being polite about it and showing her gratitude whenever she’s served or cooked for.

She apparently sleepwalks, that’s what she’s been told at least. Evidently, she wanders out of her bed at random and walks around, even going outside. Elegy has been told she carries the expression of a doll whenever this happens, and if she is addressed, she speaks in a tone of voice that is very, very monotone.

Given her passive and rather submissive nature, as well as the need for her to more or less ‘serve’ under someone, Elegy is a girl who speaks in an usually formal manner, given her upbringing. She does not use abbreviations in her speech, such as ‘I’m’ she will instead say ‘I am.’

In line with how she was raised, Elegy is very much a subservient girl. So much so, that it is almost frightening to think about. It is very rare to see her ever, ever act on her own.

Although she is a Salamander Halfling, Elegy is aware of this but has never had her powers awaken, so whatever powers she holds over fire are still dormant.

Skills: Sewing, singing, cooking, reading, writing. . . .

Likes: Cooking/baking, sewing, animals, books/reading, writing, the stars, sweets, and looking at the moon.
Dislikes: Having to make decisions, isolation, monsters, blood, pain, death, bitter/sour things, being left to her own volition, and thunderstorms.
Hobbies: Reading, writing, cooking/baking, stargazing, and being of companionship.

Phobia(s):
Atychiphobia – Failure.
Agliophobia – Pain
Hemophobia – Blood that is not her own
Astraphobia – Thunderstorms
Aquaphobia – Deep water

Personality: A bit of an odd girl, Elegy is someone that is not at all easy to define. . . . Given her upbringing and the last few years of her life, she has developed quite an interesting and complicated personality. Reared as a noble, Elegy is someone who seems to present themselves with pride, strength and the upmost certainty of their heritage, person and self. Looking at her, Elegy seems like she’s a very strong young woman, someone who can carry their own weight and shoulder a multitude of burdens without batting an eyelash. She seems as if she’s haughty, prideful and almost arrogant, even the expressions she carries upon her face cause her to be written off as such. Here’s the reality though . . . she’s not really any of these things. She’s not full of any sort of pride in herself or her lineage, and she’s not strong in any sense of the word. Her mentality and emotional state are rather fragile, and in truth, the slightest of overloads can be enough to send her into a spiral of depression, anxiety and a fit of tears. Elegy is really a timid young woman who merely presents herself as a being full of strength so that no one would have the chance to think otherwise, she fears what people might think, or do, if they discovered that she was actually a very weak girl. Not wanting to end up being used, or taken advantage of, Elegy does her best to hide her many weaknesses and her fragile state of self.

As she is now, and as she has been for many years, Elegy is one who does her best to detach herself from the happenings around her. From people’s plights, to their words and to any situation at hand, she prefers not to let her emotions get mixed up in anything; she knows her own frailty and realizes that if she allowed herself to be open to the misery of the world around her, and to her own situation, that she would break. Honestly, what is keeping Elegy from breaking now is uncertain, even to her; she even wonders why it is she is trying to look strong to everyone around her now. Her situation seems utterly hopeless, so why? The only answer to this whole matter that she can form is that inside of her, she wants to retain some sense of self, something that will remind her that she is still her own person, and that she will not break to her keeper. . . . Even still, there are undoubtedly times when Elegy’s nearly lost it, become overwhelmed by her own situation.

She tries to act as strong as she can, she doesn’t want to submit to the reality of her life, but the truth is that her façade is slowly, slowly crumbling and with each day, Elegy is coming closer to breaking.

Underneath this mask of hers, this seemingly emotionless girl who seems a pillar of certain strength, maturity and pride, Elegy is really something else. . . . With that emotional frailty of hers, Elegy is certainty a very sensitive young woman. The plights of others cling to her heart and have become a heavy weight upon her, part of the reason she seems so insensitive toward everything and one. She feels a lot of guilt for what the world seems to be coming to. In reality, she despises herself, and the family in which she was raised. She’s utterly ashamed of what she is and whom. But still, she doesn’t want to break in front of others, so she never lets them know of how she feels. Elegy is certain that they would not sympathize with her, and would only seek to truly harm her if they realized how deep her guilt traveled.

With that sensitivity she has, Elegy is honestly a kind soul who is scared. Though she can seem off-putting and rude, she’s really just anxious of the world around her. She was a sheltered child, in a word, and she never saw the truth of the world as she grew up, and because of that, everything around her is still very much alien and frightful. By isolating herself from everything she feels like she can cushion those uncertainties of hers and keep her heart sustained. Honestly . . . that’s even beginning to fail her. Elegy’s led an isolated existence, she’s never had a friend or true companion.

So, what things boil down to is this . . . she’s lonely. Elegy is a girl who is very lonesome, though she doesn’t do anything to try to make friends. In a way also, she sees herself unfit to befriend those around her, given what her heritage seems to be, in a word, she feels she’d be a burden to another. She knows of her own shortcomings and as such, she doesn’t want someone else to have to deal with them. However, just to say, if Elegy were ever able to make a friend, or find herself becoming close to another, the heavy mask she wears, the one that makes her look so haughty and strong, it’d come off, and the girl underneath would awaken. The truth of her feelings would come to surface, she’d be unable to hide her tears from a friend if they came to her, should her worries overtake her, those would consume her in their presence, and in a word . . . Elegy would become heavily dependent upon that person. She’d be needy, want attention, and might even feel a need to cling to her friend.

Really, she’d seem completely childish, as in that if she did not get these things from her friend, she’d be prone to pouting. . . . But, there would definitely be a bright side to being Elegy’s friend, after some time, you’d begin to see a rare side of her, the true her. Yes, she seems a lot like a child, but that’s because part of her still is, Elegy is honestly an innocent soul full of curiosities and wonderment. She has dreams, fascinations, hopes and even believes in things that most view as nonsense, such as making wishes on stars. . . . In these moments of seeing the true side of her, it wouldn’t be out of the question that one would even get to see her smile, and laugh.

In reality, Elegy is something of a very cheerful soul underneath this heavy mask of hers . . . if ever this mask can be torn away from her, it’s likely that one might come to see the upbeat and happy side of her.

ImageWeapon: N/A

Fighting Style: Putting it really simply, she has none, Elegy’s never had a reason to fight, or to try to at all, so she’s got no style what so ever.

Abilities: Recollection; because she has read so very many books and such in her lifetime, Elegy is gifted with a wealth of miscellaneous knowledge that she can recall at will. The information she is privy to varies greatly by topic. As she was never given a formal education, all she has ever learned came from the books she read.

As of now, Elegy has no other abilities to speak of.

BACKGROUND
Relationship Status: Engaged
Family:
Father – Lucian Veyne
Deceased.
Age – Nineteen
A once renown, powerful Salamander whose name was known among his people and even among many other races, Lucian was someone who always did not stand for the fact that it was forbidden for his clan to intermingle with others. He didn’t understand the rules that had been made, and thus, he did not choose to follow them. . . . Technically speaking, he was actually the next in line to become the ruler of his particular clan, but because of how he acted, the title skipped him and went to his younger brother. Following this, Lucian left home to travel across Leu Chrysallia, to understand the larger world and to see what it was he was missing out on by being forced to remain with his people at all times. And it was during his travels that he met her, a young human woman who he came to love so dearly, that he was willing to throw out all cautious and remembrance of the rules dictated to him by his father and clan. . . .

Lucian was known among people for the fact that he was indeed a very strong, and powerful Salamander, so he was already known to Violetta. She herself was already engaged for marriage when it was she met Lucian, but still, the two fell in love, and against the wishes of her parents, Violetta called off her engagement to marry Lucian. Lucian was the happiest he’d ever been with Violetta, but this happiness was short-lived as, eventually he came to be sought out by his clan, his father and brother. Upon discovering the fact that Lucian had come to be with a human, they carried out what their clan’s laws dictated, and they executed Lucian for his ‘crime.’
He died before even knowing that he was going to be a father, without ever getting to know his daughter Elegy . . . but, within this girl flows Lucian’s power, and his Salamander blood, and within her she carries on his legacy.
Mother – Violetta Lovell
Living.
Age – Thirty-Five
A sick and ailing woman, taken to illness by the grief of having lost her husband and love of her life at just seventeen . . . Violetta is a woman who has not been able to be within her daughter’s as often as she would want to be due to her poor health, and because of this, she and her daughter are not exceptionally close, but there is a distinct love within her for Elegy. In all truth, Violetta was much like Elegy is in her younger years—a gloomy lass who seemed content to have her life ruled over by others while deep down inside she was yearning for freedom, for a chance at true happiness. And when it was she was growing close to the time of her arranged marriage, Violetta got her wish, she met Lucian Veyne, a powerful, wandering Salamander whose heart she managed to capture. She loved him dearly, greatly, and quickly she and he married.

With Lucian, Violetta felt nothing but happiness . . . until it was he came to be executed for having loved her, due to his clan’s laws about not ever coming to love or be with a human. Lucian’s death sent Violetta’s health to Hell, she became very frail, and only came to pull through her grief upon the discovery that she was pregnant with Lucian and hers child. For the sake of the life within her, Violetta pulled through, going long enough to give birth to her daughter, Elegy. Since this, she’s been sick as ever before, some days she can’t even get herself out of bed. But still, she’s alive and is going on so that she can at least be around to see her daughter grow, and in truth, though she’s not been able to express it, the last thing Violetta wants to see is her daughter unhappy. . . . If she knew that Elegy was caught in despair about her arranged marriage, then she would not have the girl go through with it.
Personal History: To throw it together rather simply, Elegy is a young woman who’s life has not been a cakewalk in the least, since before she was born, her life was an unhappy one—her father was executed by his people for the fact that he fell in love, and bedded a human woman. His Salamander clan claimed it taboo to ever do such a thing, to go with one outside of the Salamander race was forbidden and punishable by death. Despite this fact, Lucian still came to love Elegy’s mother, Violetta, and in human terms, the two married and remained together as a couple for a good six months before it was he came to be discovered by his father and brother, and promptly killed for his ‘crime.’ Violetta caught in grief fell to poor health, only managing through it because of the fact that she was now with child, Lucian and hers that is.

The nine months of pregnancy Violetta underwent were torture for her and her health, it was hard for her to get through it, but, she managed to do so in order to give birth to Elegy. . . . Even after she was born, Violetta remained a woman of frail health, though she very much loved her daughter, she was unable to show it to her much due to the fact there were days she just couldn’t even get herself out of bed. Because of her health, Violetta was not much of an active presence in Elegy’s rearing or growing up, and so the girl mostly grew up on her own with the aid of the household servants and such.

With no friends to speak of, Elegy was a lonely lass who contented herself with much reading in her childhood and in her teenage years as well. Like her mother, Elegy is also a girl who suffers from rather frail health it seems, she is victim to high fevers at times, soreness, fatigue and other sorts of problems, which have made it all the worse for her getting by—her poor health worries her mother, who just wound up sicker as a result. . . . Unfortunately, the problems Elegy experiences with her health never improved as she got older, they strike at her just as frequently as ever and are just as hard to deal with. Of course, her health problems do nothing to help how she feels, always alone, having been bullied before due to the whole situation behind her birth, for the fact that she’s actually a Halfling, having had rumors spread about her too. . . . Elegy’s fallen into a cycle of despair and gloom.

Once, she had been a rather hopeful young girl who thought of life as a wonderful thing, she was bright, optimistic and happy, but the years wore away at her until little more than a shell was left, a shell of a girl who muddles through by faking a smile for her mother, and simply accepting things as they are. Thinking of herself as doomed to a life of unhappiness, solitude and forever-bad health, Elegy really has taken to whatever it is that she’s told to do, becoming submissive and miserable, listless and seemingly a girl who has no sense of individual, no volition or anything. The simple truth is that she’s unhappy with everything, the fact that she’s even had a marriage arranged for her too has only made it all the worse.

The last thing she wants to do is to make her mother ill or worry her with her troubles, so Elegy has taken to bottling everything up since she was very young, and as if it isn’t enough that she already does worry her mother with her random fevers and such. . . .

As far as she’s come to be concerned, Elegy will never find happiness, she will always be alone, and there is no longer a reason for her to desire happiness, freedom and such, so she’s given up on trying to be anything more than what she appears to be. She’s playing a role now, simply that. With her upcoming marriage, Elegy is prepared fully to sink into a life of the expected, routine, mundane and ever the same. . . .

OTHER:
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So begins...

Elegy Lovell's Story

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[Elegy Lovell]


The entire town of Cellé was in an uproar that night as the whole of the town celebrated the coming marriage of their Duke’s only son, Louis Auttenberg. The streets were adorned with lanterns, booths and such were set up along the walkways, food and festivities were free to all citizens. . . . Everything was provided by the Duke himself in his happiness for the marriage of his son to the daughter of the once proud and powerful Lovell family. The whole of that night was meant to be one where everyone could intermingle with one another, the economic classes and races of all were not to matter in the least, as far as the Duke was concerned, that night was the one he would overlook commoners and those of a poor stature wandering into his home.

The entire city was alive with the celebration, from the upper class districts which were closely monitored by the Duke’s well trained Chevalier, all way down to the lower class areas which were looked over by those who were not of great enough skill to become Chevalier. Everywhere was lit up with lanterns and such, joyous music played everywhere and everyone was invited to join in on the fun.

And, most people did indeed take part in the festival, though most could not have cared at all about the fact that Louis Auttenberg was to be wed the coming day, all they truly cared about was the free food and drink offered up to them, after all, it was not every day that such things were just offered up, especially in a world which was slowly dying. The festival was short-lived, but it was a time to forget about the state in which Leu Chrysallia lay, and to lose oneself in the fun.

The hub of the celebration though, was of course the Duke’s own home, his rather lavish manor. Though the man provided the town with festivities and material and such for an evening of delight, the best of things was reserved for his home alone, and for those who would come into it. It was there after all, that the public and all the common-blooded folks could come to catch a glimpse of their future leader and his wife-to-be. The coming morning would be one spent giving well wishes to Louis and his fiancé as they would stand before the Goddess in her church and made their vows to one another while tonight was just meant to be one of fun and delight, light and unserious.

Even if most people knew of the Duke-to-be’s fiancé, few thought anything of her. After all, the wives of any man in power were nothing more than idle background figures, they did nothing but quietly support their husbands as they carried out their duties, no matter what choices they did or how they treated people. As far as all those of a common class assumed, Elegy Lovell would be a woman who was no different. People solely knew this girl as a daughter of a dying name, born of a once proud linage and powerful family. She was the only heir to the Lovell name now, the last hope for it to be left with any glory as the name would die with the utterance of ‘I do.’

The circumstances behind her birth were ones shrouded in shadows; the truth of the events . . . most did not know them. But, did it matter? It didn’t. She was a noble, aristocracy, and someone who would be no different from those who came before, so was it of significance? No, it wasn’t.

The only people whom did care anything at all about Elegy’s past were those whose own daughters had been passed up to become Louis’ fiancé and eventual wife. Only those few wished to garner some truth about her heritage and raising. And when they failed to do even that—they began the rumors which circulated through the houses of the rich, saying terrible things about her, gossiping idly about things which had no true merit. . . . Terrible titles were splashed upon Elegy’s name; she had been called a demoness, a whore, a harlot, a succubus. . . . Simply because she was envied for becoming the fiancé of Cellé’s future Duke.

Spiteful words were something Elegy herself had grown accustom to. For her whole life, she’d been subjected to such treatment, such things, the girl was not at all fazed by the things said behind her back; the young woman did not even bat an eyelash if she were called a harlot. The reasons for this were that she did not understand the reasoning behind insulting her; she didn’t know why it was there was a need to address her as that. Elegy Lovell knew her own past, and she knew that such things did not serve any purpose in her living. If it was for the sake of someone else, for the sake of a person other than herself. . . .

For the sake of her mother, for Violetta, Elegy took all the things she said to heart. Violetta was the one who was now making the choices for her, she was the one who knew best. And soon enough, Louis Auttenberg would be the one who knew best for her. . . . Her future husband. Even if she did not understand why it was that the Duke himself were throwing such a large and grand celebration in honor of their unison, Elegy knew better than to question it. The marriage was a part of her life, just something she had to do for her better interests—that was what her mother evidently believed. That was it. She had to do what it was that she was told to, it was the only way she knew how to live, it was the best way. It kept her from sinking into trouble.

This was her life—taking orders from someone was the only way she knew how to live.

Though parts of her life remain a mystery, even if a commemoration was being held partly in her honor, Elegy had no thoughts pertaining to any of it, to anyone at all. She was an idle existence . . . all she believed and understood was that she needed to follow the instructions given to her. And, this is exactly what she did.

As soon as evening had fallen that night, the lanterns had been lit and the festivities had began in Cellé, Elegy had left the Lovell home for the Auttenberg’s manor, dressed up to look as the noble she was. Her form was clad in a simple gown, white and satin, it was smooth, left without patterns, it bore no straps to it, being a simple thing which wrapped around her body fittingly, snugly going under her arms while it allowed room for her legs to move in it, a slit was cut into its side that travelled up to her knee. Her arms were adorned with simple white gloves which matched the gown she wore, silver bracelets hung from her small wrists while her neck was left covered in far too many pearls. The girl’s vivid blonde hair was brought up into a rather intricate style, a sort of tiara upon her head as strands of pearls were left to hang from her skull and fall down her back. With silvery sandaled high heels to complete the ensemble, and a painted face, Elegy truly looked the part of nobility.

Though, the cosmetics staining her face did not at all seem to suit her. Those false red lips looked wrong, in essence, as if they did not at all belong on her face. Elegy did not seem a woman who was made to wear make-ups.

Yet, somehow, everything came together upon her and made her look like the aristocrat she was born to be. The dress, jewelry and everything else melded together upon her form. . . . Moreover, no matter the things said about her as she had entered the Auttenberg’s home that eve seemed to have any effect upon her as she moved with seemingly effortless grace through the foyer and to the home’s overly intricate marble staircase. The aged noblewomen of Cellé called her a many horrid things under their breaths to each other while the men simply eyed her with suspicion. There was still much bitterness in the lot of them for her engagement to Louis, despite the nobleman himself being a rather well known philanderer.

Following the words of her mother, Elegy simply acted the part she was made to play, the perfect bride to be, a silent almost doll who never spoke unless spoken to, and who never disagreed with the opinions of those around her. She had greeted her future father-in-law and her fiancé with a well-practiced curtsy and a rather polite greeting, stating it was an honor to be in their presence, and she quietly took a seat when it was offered to her by Louis himself.

The evening played out as it was expected to for the first hours, Elegy remained quiet, a rather distance expression upon her face as she did nothing to make a horrid impression upon the people of Cellé. She was an idle looking girl then, simple and quiet, the perfect girl. . . . It was only when Duke Auttenberg himself stood to his feet and said something to his son did Elegy budge an inch.

A hand was placed upon her shoulder, catching her attention. Her eyes casted upward to the one whom had touched her—her fiancé. “Elegy, come and stand, my father wishes to show the two of us off together now.” He said to her, offering her his hand.

“Yes M’Lord.” Elegy responded to him respectfully, placing her own small hand in his as he pulled her seat out from behind her and aided her in getting to her feet. Without a thought, Elegy allowed Louis to guide her along, toward the railings that lined the upper half of the manor’s foyer, so that she and Louis might be shown to the nobility of Cellé as the couple they were bound to become the approaching morning.

This was the fate to which Elegy had resigned herself; this is the life that she believed she was destined to face. Happiness was beyond her grasp, so she’d given up the hope of destiny being at all kind to her. . . .

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Character Portrait: Victor Abstract Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell
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#, as written by Wake
A lean form slid between the members of the crowd. A glass of red wine held in the hand white haired man as he walked, silently like a ghost amongst the party goers. A small smirk played on his lips as he eavesdropped on the muttering gossip of the scornful. It amused him to hear the jealous and vain try to throw about their petty slander, even when he himself knew that more then half of these haughty noble women weren't exactly virgin brides themselves. The smirking man could personally attest witness to that fact.

"Victor," A voice addressed the man. "I'm surprised you would be here." Victor turned, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. "Ah, lord Calmor. Good to see you." He said with a short bow of the head to the elder looking noble. "Well I was commissioned by the duke to paint a portrait for the newly weds after the ceremony. Naturally I was invited so I could better be on hand when I was needed." A truthful fact, for Victor had become most famous locally for his artwork.

Calmor crossed his arms and gave a huff. "And I trust that you plan to keep your hands too yourself for the night?" He asked, the thinly veiled accusation coming out harshly. "I'd rather hope your reputation doesn't make cause for another scene."

Victor winced as Calmor brought up another thing Victor was famous for. He held up his free hand in a placating manner. "Come now Calmor, I wasn't planning any of my usual mischief tonight." Calmor gave him a hard stare, and Victor could only return a dull one in response. "Really, count, do you think even I would be so crass as to make a pass at a lady on her wedding night? Give me some credit good sir."

At that moment there was a silence that befell the crowd as the engaged couple came forward on the balcony. Some many the girl's beauty, the perfection of he gown and the grace in which she wore it. Some grew even more spiteful, and shared a few final hushed whispers of contempt. Victor, however, ignored the last bits of parting scorn for a chase to truly look at the bride in question and saw something that few else could notice. She wore a look upon her face that Victor had seen many times in his... rather long life. A look that hid a look of disappointment and resigned sadness beneath a facade of stoic calm.

Victor smirked, and left Calmor's side. Well he hadn't planned for any mischief. But he might have something to do to make the night more interesting after all.

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Character Portrait: Anna Sun Mazurick Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell
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Anna walked through the forest; she was on her way to a celebration of Louis Auttenberg getting married and she heard there was an alchemist in the area. She partially didn’t care about the celebration as much as she did about the free food she could get. Celebrations never amused her, rather it annoyed her, but she found it a good distraction to steal from the filthy rich scum that were there.

She could hear a few footsteps following her; they had been for the last three miles. Anna sighed; she didn’t want to fight today. She already had her hands full with the stuff she stole from two towns over. “What is a lovely lady like you doing walking around in the woods?” A deep voice came from the shadows.

“I think she is asking for some little fun!!” Another man called out next to the first man. She didn’t need to get any closer to know they were drunk. Anna could smell the alcohol and her nostrils flared. Horrible memories of her father and that nobleman flooded her mind. She said nothing as she slid one her Heavenly swords out its sheath. The men walked out the shadows, bottles in hand. “Oh come now darlin’, we ain’t gonna hurt you!” The first man said, smiling. She slowly turned her head to look at the man. He was a fat one, his cheeks rosy red. He was smiling big, and she notices he had no teeth. Gross. She thought. The second man walked right after him

He was skinny like a twig and almost too young to be with the man in front of him. He smiled also, but had teeth. The two were an odd couple, but either way it looked like they were willing to do anything to get at her. “Back off.” She warned them. She hated fighting the very people she tried to help. They stopped, looked at each up, and then smirked. “We just wanted to thank you for what you have been doing. Are you not Anna the Giver?” They asked. She had been called that among the poor; it made he smile, except for times like these. She never helped alcoholics, they did this to themselves. She backed up and felt her back hit a hard fleshy chest.

Anna made no sounds as she looked up into blood shot eyes. Great, like I really want to do this to you all! She thought. Her red hair was pulled back by the man behind her, “How can someone as pretty as you get away with stealing from the rich?” He asked her. He looked to be the leader of the group, his eyes showed no mercy. He looked at her like she was his property. Did he really think he could get away with this? Does he not know that she has killed many men in her time?

“Get off!” She hissed and sent the handle of her sword into his side. He let go immediately and growled. “Get her!” He yelled and the two other men ran towards her. She swung her sword in an X manner at the twig man and he made a slow gasping sound before hitting the ground. She said a little prayer before turning towards the fat one, “Ready?” She asked him. He looked frightened.

“Get her!” The leader growled. “What are you waiting on? Is your fat ass to scared?!” He was pissing her off. How could he treat someone so cold? She turned around and studied his face then smirked.

“You were a nobleman. I remember you, was it in Grincheniers? Yes, it was. You were behind the commander then.” She said slowly. He looked even more pissed and took out his sword. She heard the fat man running away. Good.

“I could have killed you that day, you know? I had you right there in my hands! I lost everything because of you, for someone who gives to the poor; you sure do a poor job at it. I have been looking for you for a long time. Now that I have you again I will stop at nothing to kill you!” He lunged at her. She tried to sidestep it, but didn’t move in time. The sword cut her slightly and she sucked in her breath. She could never get use to the pain of being hit.

“You got what you deserve. Now you know what it feels like to be at the bottom looking up. Call it fate.” She said with a smirk. Her round kicked him into a tree and pinned him with her sword. “Now from the looks of it, you have had a big helping of being poor.” She giggled. “I can show you mercy; will you still try and kill me? If so I will not hesitate to kill you right now.” Her voice went soft, she really hated killing people.

He laughed at her, “Are you kidding me? You let me go now and I will take every chance I get to kill you, I have nothing left so you might as well get it over with.” He was serious; she could tell in his eyes that all he was hungry for was her death. Anna sighed, she took a step back and with one quick motion she cut his artery. Blood sprayed her, making her look creepy. She said another prayed and left the body there. “Crap, now I got to clean up…but I can’t clean my clothes!” She sighed as she walked to the nearest stream and washed the blood off her body. Once she was done she made her way back onto the path towards her hometown. It had been close to a year since she has been there.

News spread around fast about the town and she heard about the little wedding happening. She knew Louis, having come across him a time or two, but she knew little about the lady he was going to marry. Anna almost felt a little sorry for the girl, if he was anything like when she met him, she would have her hands full.

The town was couple miles away and light was falling, by the time she got there the lanterns were lit. “Beautiful.” She whispered. The town’s people looked at her and whispered. She already knew what they were saying. “Poor Anna, if her mother would see her now.” She heard Mrs. Frockner say. If she hadn’t known the lady she would have slapped her. She hated when they talked about her mother; it was still a sensitive spot even years later. There was a shift in the crowd and looked towards the balcony. There stood Louis and his soon to be wife. She laughed, the look on her face showed how she really felt, Poor girl.

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Character Portrait: Daremita Hawklight Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell
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#, as written by Lenyx
As the evening skies darkened it made the town look nothing less than magical with lit lanterns lining the streets, illuminating the shadows with their soft glow. But it was too extravagant, free food and drink to everyone in town, and in Duke Auttenberg's manor it was more than just extravagant, it was ridiculous. From the decorations to the food and even the music, everything was nothing but the highest quality one could acquire! The amount it would take to afford this luxury is unjustifiable, especially for a Duke!

“I must apologize sir, but my wife and I are required to be nearby when Duke Auttenberg's announcement is made.” Said a pompous and overweight noble by the name of Lord Rosebery. “My wife is a dear cousin of his after all!” He added with a gruff laugh.

Exchanging goodbyes with the couple, Lord Rosebery linked arms with his equally overweight wife and snapped his fingers twice, signalling his Chevalier, Daremita Hawklight, to come to their side.

“Yes, M'Lord. You called, M'Lord.” Daremita said flatly.

My husband would like you to remember the faces of the couple we were just speaking with.” Lady Rosebery handed Daremita a folded paper. “They have family in our town who were quite behind in paying their taxes, and our sitting in our cells. We want our money, and that couple plans on visiting our town soon.” Lady Rosebery smiled wickedly.

“Yes, M'Lady. I understand, M'Lady.”

“Good, we are going on ahead, go and... Enjoy the festivities.”

With that the Rosebery nobles strode away, leaving Daremita to return to her spot by the window. She opened the folded paper Lady Rosebery had given her and read the name of the couple and the amount of coin that was to be payed to the Rosebery family. Scowling Daremita crumbled up the paper and shoved it in her skirt pocket.

“I'd given anything to be out of this horrendous skirt.” She sighed.

“Well if you would give me just one chance love, you'd never want to wear any clothing at all.” Came a playful voice behind her.

“Al, if that is a real attempt to get me to go to bed with you, I will not hesitate to draw the dagger from my boot and thrust it through your heart.”

The man gasped and moved around to face Daremita. “Now why would you be willing to use the one memento you have of your mo-”

“Dear sir, you know you are the only man I have shared a bed with and will be the first and last person who I will ever bed.”

Al let out a sigh. “You do look very beautiful tonight Mita.”

He gently lifted Daremita's hand, and pressed her fingers to his lips.

Daremita looked down at her elegant blue and white Chevalier blouse jacket and skirt ensemble, the sleeves are cuffed with white lace, and a ruffled cravat completed the outfit. “I would prefer a pair of pants. This crinoline makes it... Difficult to move around. You also realize I do not paint my face with those make-ups

Al laughed and released Daremita's hand, adjusting his own Chevalier attire, complete with pants. “Your natural beauty is more than enough to steal any mans heart my dea Mita. And I hear it just takes time to adjust to the wearing of a skirt. Wear them long and often enough and one can even run at full speed with ease.”

Daremita looked up at Al and frowned, which he returned with a wink and a smile and held out his arm to her. “How about you tell me all about the stories of working under those gluttonous Rosebery nobles over a glass of wine? I hear they are serving only the best!”

Daremita laughed and linked her arm with Al's. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. Would you like to know what they have asked of me when I return from Cellé?”

The two chevaliers retrieved glasses of wine for themselves and moved to a quieter and more secluded area of the manor, where Daremita told Al of the Rosebery's plan of extortion from the lower nobility.

“Do you think they are hoping that by having a large amount of coin will give them a higher status?” Al asked.

Daremita shrugged. “I do not know, but I think money is only part of their plans to acquiring a more pleasing status. They want power, control... They want others to fear them.” She took a sip of wine. “I do not even believe they are true cousins to Duke Auttenberg. I think it is a farce they created and spread among the other nobility.”

“Then the Duke himself must have heard this rumour, so surely he would put an end to it? Would he not?”

Daremita shook her head. “Not if he had something to gain from it, but what I have not a clue.” She stared at her glass for a moment before downing the rest of the wine and smashing the glass on the floor, startling Al. “All nobility are fools wanting nothing more than to ruin lives.”

Al grabbed for Daremita's hand but she slapped it away. “Show me one decent and kind living noble and I will cut out my tongue and eat it as payment for speaking lies!” She shouted in his face.

Al raised his hands in gesture of surrender. “I do not disagree with you my dear Mita, I have seen much just as you have seen among other nobles. But young Louis' fiance-”

“Is no better.” She interrupted glaring at the young couple across the way. “She looks and acts the part of a doll. I do not doubt that in time she will be just as corrupted and ugly as the rest of them.”

Al let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, never once taking his eyes off of Daremita. She could feel his gaze even after she turned her back to him. He loved her, this she knew but she could never return those feelings... Not anymore, not after the horror she had seen by working under the Rosenbery's. Her emotions were cut off from her, if someone were to ask her what she was feeling, she would reply that she felt enraged, but only because that is what others would assume based on her actions.

Actions speak louder than words, my Mita. That is what your mother taught me. Her father's words echoed through her mind. Sighing inwardly and ignoring Al's pleading gaze, Daremita relaxed her body resting her hands behind her back she stood proudly and watched as the evening progressed.

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Character Portrait: Daremita Hawklight Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell
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#, as written by Din
A cacophony of lights and sound whirled as the song of corruption rose from Leu Chrysallia. The town writhed in a dance of agitation to its own melody; murmurs of fabricated secrets. This night, it would feast on dreams and ostention, and those full of substance would finally have their fill of these other-worldly machinations. Having grown dissatisfied with the affection and gifts showered upon them by their own mother, they sought affections elsewhere and received due payment in exchange; unmerciful sorrows, a representative replacement for the love they received from the aching heart of their maker. And the celebration on this night consecrated their surrender of true affection. What they lost, which few were beginning to feel, was a lasting joy.

Now, through the cobbled and dusted streets, through the lowest quarters to the most pristine corners, all the poor and powerless had their first few glimpses of an entirely new world, like the first gasp of a neonate. The lights, the sounds, the flat smiles, and hollowed laughs showed all those lacking just what they lacked. And with envy and rum they cheered and celebrated with their brothers, gaining at least one thing they didn't have before; a false sense of happiness. And among these was one in whom breath had so recently been given. They began with desperation, but were now callous, like those who surrounded this one whose life, like the Goddess's affection, was marked for destruction.

The intrigue of the inexperienced seemed a perfect draw for people. Happening upon a bar after his call to life, the cyborg began his tenure as a living being in nothing but his metallic hull. Lain bare before a crowd of people, like a sad pledged woman who stood above them all, a hush descended on the establishment as he was met with stares ranging from horror to stupefaction. His bluntness marked him a welcomed new comer to the establishment, and he was invited to enjoy the special occasion with a group of men.

"Agh! Better'n bein' stuck in this mud pit!" One remarked. The men around the cyborg laughed and made remarks of their own and roared along their path. The cyborg did not laugh. He did not understand their humor, nor did he understand humor at all.

"'ey! But wot's with ye, odd'n?" One mustached man in his finest rags nudged the cyborg as they headed to the manor. Without an idea for how to answer, he looked at the man with a characteristic blank stare. His eyes cut to their midpoint. One would suppose he was simply bored and not clueless to nonverbal communication. Again, his group laughed. For the last two days they had known him only to be this way. The crowd's volume indicated their proximity to the manor, until at last it seemed like a wall of people met the group.

"We're goin' in?" said the mustached one.

"Oh we're goin' in. We did n't come all the way out here just to gawk," repeated another of the group. Bold a statement as it was, though he was welcome as with all the other commoners, his gradually softening voice undercut it. And it was felt by the other men.

"They would n't deign to have common shoes on their an-oint-ed floors!" came another in full agreement with the subtle message of his friend. The men erupted in chatter again making similar statements. Still, the cyborg was silent.

"You said we would go in. Why wouldn't we?" his monotone was so flat and obscure in the midst of colorful, fluttery tones that this and his nake drew stares from those nearby. The men could feel it. They could finally feel the shame in their drunkenness, in parading about town with a naked...this.

"Let's go back. It doesn't matter who the Duke's son marries. It'll make no difference in our lives." And so the men's strut came to a stop, but the cyborg continued on. It made no sense to stop. This was what they had declared to do, and he would do it.

"Hey! Boy! Come back! We're going back!" The man's voice was lost in the river of voices, absorbed in the fabrics and sent into the sky with other chatter. It was lost to the cyborg and he did not look back. "We'll be at the bar 'domorrow!" But he was already turning around with the rest, laughing dejectedly.

The stares he received from the common and pompous alike made his throat tighten. It felt as if a fire had been set in his hull. What was this that was going on with him? He raised several metal fingers and brought them to his hull. But it was just a hull. Hard and metal, and it rang with a short "plack" as if there was something inside.

Finally a silence seemed to fall as he entered the house. Eyes were drawn heavenward as two people entered his line of sight atop the balcony. A victorious smile laced the lips of a man. And the mysteries behind the cyborg's own life stared him in the glass eyes on the face of the woman. And what a profound sadness. The tightening in his throat seemed to worsen, and for some reason he had the urge to look away and did so.

It seemed fitting, the shattering of glass that he heard for reasons he did not know. The woman with the blue and white blouse jacket and skirt ensemble caught his attention momentarily, until finally his throat loosened and he looked back at the man and woman who stood above them.

This was the song of corruption. It believed it could sustain its life by feeding on dreams yet had. And, being fed air and lies, the town was reduced to flesh and bone, gnawing at itself until only a memento of what had once been remained. Chained to the walls of deception with links of greed, it suffered now from psychosis and attrition. The mother who had borne witness to the self-imposed degradation of her child had known no sorrow like this. Standing behind the door as incoherent ramblings filled the cell, a weight was placed on her heart which could not be lifted, and she lay now on her own bed with the will, without the strength to rise again. But something was being set in motion.

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Character Portrait: Daremita Hawklight Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Damian Cline
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[Elegy Lovell]


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.

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Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Damian Cline
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#, as written by Kuroe
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.

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Character Portrait: Jeremiah Justus Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Damian Cline
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Jeremiah Justus


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?"

Setting

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Character Portrait: Victor Abstract Character Portrait: Daremita Hawklight Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell
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#, as written by Wake
(thanks to Lenyx for helping with this post)

“Is no better. She looks and acts the part of a doll. I do not doubt that in time she will be just as corrupted and ugly as the rest of them.”

Victor stood silently behind the two Chevalier's. There was no way of telling when he got there, or how long he'd been listening. He simply stood with his wine glass in one hand, and a piece of paper in the other. He stared at the parchment that he had plucked from the lady knight's pocket with mild interest.

"Tis so easy to judge, isn't it?" He asked. "Tell me miss, what gives you the high ground from which to look down on others and guess their nature?" He held up the paper to her, eyes closed and expecting her attention now. "Not much I think, if you know of such corruption and do little to stop it. In fact the people that your masters are extorting happen to be acquaintances of mine. Do you think they and their family deserve this treatment, and that it be right for you to stand idly by and let it happen?"

Daremita turned sharply to face the man addressing her, she wondered how she did not hear him come up behind them. She glowered up at this lean man she now faced, and sized him up. Taking notice that he held the paper she had shoved in to her skirt pocket, she decided this man would be nothing but an annoyance to her.

Holding out one hand to the man, while resting the other on her hip she spoke to him. “To answer your first question, yes it is easy to judge. As I would know since I have been judged since birth. The answer to your second question is a more complicated answer, but to state it simply I do not look down on the girl, I pity her. In a land where there is unnecessary killing and pillaging of innocent people and the ones responsible are able to escape discipline if they have the coin, it is easy to guess that a person's nature would change when they are around those who are corrupted.”

At this point, Daremita noticed Al was about to open his mouth, most likely to put the man in his place, but she stopped him with just a look.

“Al, I can handle this.” She stared back at the bothersome man, looking in to his light gray eyes. “The third answer is even simpler than the others. No I do not feel the family deserves the treatment they are suffering, and I do not stand by idly. But why should I tell you what I am doing? For all I know you are nothing but a man who is after something these acquaintances of yours have?”

Daremita kept her piercing gaze on the man, watching his every move, while she waited for his response should he have one for her.

Victor remained leaning against the pillar, eyes closed. A small, unreadable smile sat on his face. "So being judged gives you the right to judge others." He muttered. He huffed to himself, apparently finding amusement in something only he knew of.

He gently began folding the paper in his hand, then flicked it back to the lady knight. "Frankly, that base accusation that I am trying to exploit my friends is a bit crude. I have been called many things, miss. Some titles I will admit I rightfully deserve. But to call me a thief or anything of the like is quiet frankly insulting." He paused to take a sip of his wine. "Really if you assume someone the villain at first glance, how do you know you yourself haven't been changed?"

Daremita scowled as she caught the folded paper. “I have been changed... You do not know what I have seen working for those bastard Rosebery's for some time. You do not know what I have been through having to serve as those pompous nobles slave, claiming that my work is all in the name of justice!” Daremita felt an fire in her, that she had not felt in a long time. She lowered her head and stared at the ground, balling her fists in an attempt to contain her rage of remembering what the Rosebery's have had her do.

“Also I have not said that the Lady Lovell is a villain, I would prefer you not put words in my mouth.” She said through clenched teeth. “But should the Lady Lovell be married to the Duke's son, I give you my word that he will corrupt her.”

At this point she looked up to where the soon to married couple stood, and shook her head. “That girl is nothing but a doll. Louis has a reputation that is well known by many, and his fiance--”

Suddenly Al wrapped his arm around Daremita's waist, distracting her from finishing her sentence. “I do not think you sir, have any right to question Mita like this. In fact, I think it is quite insulting of you to dare speak to Chevaliers in the manner that you are.”

Daremita looked up at Al, studying his face carefully. She could feel his body was tense, the muscles of his arm around her waist were tight. Clearly this man before them had not only managed to aggravate her and remind her of the horrible things she has had to do, but also angered Al. Daremita placed her hand on his that rested on her waist, hoping that a simple touch of her hand would make Al back down from even thinking of hitting the man. Standing up straight and tall, she raised her head high, letting her pride of being a Chevalier keep her from punching the man herself.

Victor said nothing for a moment, he merely took another sip of his wine. "You've misinterpreted my words a bit," he said after a while "but to be fair, we both seeming to be sprouting rather unfair statements."

Finally, the white haired man opened his eyes. However he didn't look to the knights. Rather his gaze feel upon the balcony from which the groom and bride stood. "More overly, I think you don't have much right to say that about the poor girl. Rather then corrupting her, I think the little brat is going to break her." He pointed to the engaged couple, distaste replacing his serene expression for once. His eyes were sharp, very much so, and could easily read the words on the young groom Louis's lips, even from the great distance between them. He stood still and watched with venom in his eyes, as the girl squirmed uncomfortably in the mans unbearably tight grip. After several long moments of torment and vicious words whispered into her ears, she was finally freed when another girl approached them, and the brat of a groom slipped back into his appearance of false pleasantry.

"If anything, I don't think she really in a position that deserves your scorn." He said, his eyes now trained back on the knights. "Do you still believe she is just as bad as the rest? I don't. And I rather think she has had enough undeserved slander thrown upon her for one night."

Daremita and Al both turned to watch the engaged couple when the man pointed up to them. Daremita clenched her fists and teeth, as she watched Lady Lovell squirm against her fiance, it would be clear to anyone with any sense that the man was hurting her. She ground her teeth at the thought that again, an innocent was suffering, even if she thought that, that very innocent would eventually turn in to another corrupted noble.

Daremita continued to watch the scene, unable to turn away. Her pity for the Lady Lovell went up a few notches. She kept watch on the couple until she saw Louis let her go when a strange looking girl spoke to them. Instead of keeping an eye on Lady Lovell, Daremita's eyes followed Louis and his father as they greeted the Rosebery's.

Her hazel eyes blazing, not only for what she had witnessed on the balcony, but also at the corrupted people she despised gathering together as a group, leaving her to not hear what the man had said to her.

“I apologize, I did not hear what it is you said. I was.. To disturbed by what I just witnessed on the balcony.” She said, a sorrowful to her tone of voice.

“While the Lady Lovell is not as bad as Mita thinks, she is still entitled to her opinion.” Al said speaking up for Daremita. “And Mita is very aware of the slander that is cast upon Lady Lovell, though that has no significance to Mita's opinions of others.”

Al took this moment to gaze down at Daremita, a very loving and longing look on his face, she could read it in his eyes as she gazed back up at him. “Rumors and slander to Mita, are nothing more than lies, therefore she does not take them in to consideration when she judges a person. Mita's judgement has always been based on what she sees with her own eyes, and not what others see and say.”

"A good policy," Victor replied, closing his eyes once more. "Though it is one thing too see, and another to act." He paused, and sighed. Looking back up to the balcony he frowned. "Though I guess I have been nothing but a hypocrite this entire conversation. I have sat idly by while filth piled up for while myself." He took one last sip of his wine and got up. He then walked away, towards the stairwell that led up. He muttered darkly under his breath to himself. "For too long perhaps."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jeremiah Justus Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Damian Cline Character Portrait: Blade Merris
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[Elegy Lovell]


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.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Blade Merris
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Duke Blade Merris of Mort-Vandrine


"Now, as you can plainly see, the manor is incredibly large. Even I get lost from time to time. Do not fear, though, for it is easier to navigate than you blah. Blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah..."

Blade turned his attention away from Alan once more. He really should've seen this coming when he asked for directions; nobles, with very few exceptions, are always very eager to show off their possessions, especially their accommodations. He really needed some chocolates at the very least right now...

Come to think of it, Coalesce had been acting odd as of late. Not to mention she'd been hanging around Primrose a great deal... Was she pregnant? He hoped not. Horses were expensive to maintain and-

"... blah blah blah?" asked Alan.

"Blah blah. Blah blah blah blah," responded Blade.

"... I beg your pardon?" inquired Alan, looking like he just saw a cat give him a rather rude hand gesture discouraged by the dead goddess but highly encouraged by the Lion Spirit that Joan occasionally worshipped, much like the rest of the Gesthalgions.

At once, Blade picked up on his mistake. "O-Oh, terribly sorry. What I meant to say was 'I see. Thank you very much'."

The Duke- the other one, that is- didn't look like he bought that for an instant.

Blade cleared his throat. "Thank you for your directions. I believe I can make my way from here." So he-

"N-No!"

- turned towards the source of the scream, an action repeated by Alan. Well, Blade was certainly not expecting this; the cry actually came from some woman that was looking at Louis. Louis had one hand on his face, presumably to cradle his injuries. What on Leu Chrysallia transpired between the two of them? This question was held in the minds of the many partygoers that were currently observing the spectacle, never to be voiced.

"Why do you keep hurting me?" asked the woman with a wavering voice. "If are so insistent on us being married, Louis, then why is it that you harm me...?"

That was the most shocking part for Blade. A squabble between an engaged couple on the night before their wedding, and during the party that celebrated it to boot? But... Louis injured his bride?

The bride, whose name was Elegy if he remembered correctly, was not done. "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?"

But Louis was not in a talking mood, it seemed. "Tch, I don’t need to put up with this shit, not from a worthless harlot like you," he responded in anger. Also in anger did he turn around and storm down the stairs nearby.

Everyone was confused by these events. Overwhelmed, even.

Alan just seemed weary. "Goodness gracious... Whatever did we do to deserve such drama on a night like this?"

Many snarky answers could have been given to him but they weren't. Blade, however, opted for a different kind of answer. "Talk with him."

That was an order. Not a demand, not a suggestion, but an order. Nobles typically did not like orders. Alan was no exception. "... What? Now now, there is no need for that." Nobles typically are also capable of restraining their emotions. "It is a simple spat. They will come to terms."

"But it is a 'simple spat' on the night before their wedding. Could this be an ill omen?"

If the Duke of Cellé was indeed disturbed by such a suggestion, he didn't show it. "... I believe they will overcome it. Especially my son. I did not arrange for his ascendency to Duke status on a whim, you know."

Blade sighed. "Very well, then. I will help myself to some refreshments." Taking a step left, Blade tread through the room to a corridor that lead to where he believed the snack table rested. "Farewell for now, Alan."

"And farewell to you, Blade."

Any other day, Blade would be thinking how he was relieved to be away from that obnoxious prat. Any other day, he most likely wouldn't have witnessed such a thing. Well... actually, that would be more days than such a sentence would infer as he had indeed witnessed such a thing before. Many times. Many times before had he borne witness to a noble couple lash out at each other with hostile intent. Many times before had he seen the rage that plagued the face of a noble that believed themselves up in the skies with the gods. This was very troublesome indeed. Worse yet, he'd heard stories from his mother how the relationship between many nobles only degenerated after marriage and many others seemed to believe them. If Elegy was right and Louis was indeed hurting her to such a degree now that she'd act against him...

... Now that he thought about it, Louis was in dire need of some "discipline"...

...

Blade shook his head. "I need some sugar..." he muttered as he still walked.

Fortunately, he didn't have to walk for very long. Finally, he managed to find the buffet. In celebration of his successful endeavour, he allowed himself to smile. He walked over to the assortment of foods and, oh yes, an assortment it most definitely was. Ulissis, Goddess damn his soul, couldn't cook half of these if his life depended on it. Plenty of sweets, too.

But he picked up a smell.

Was it...

It came from a plate. A plate right in front of him that was empty save for quite a few crumbs but he knew what it had on it. He identified the crisis right away.

Someone else ate all of the biscuits coated in coconut caramel.

"God damn it..." Blade lamented his lateness as his head crashed against the table.

Whatever did he do to deserve such drama on a night like this?

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Victor Abstract Character Portrait: Daremita Hawklight Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell
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#, as written by Din
The Cyborg


Manna - or something like it - fell from the pedestal on which the centerpieces to this breaking fixture stood to the upturned head of the cyborg, who watched ever so curiously. A continuous breeze of the esoteric had been filling its lungs with different intensities and different scents since the day it was first called to life. As if raised by the hand of providence and led to this scene, its large, glassy eyes observed the couple up top with an appearance of apathy. Words for the truth of what occurred behind those eyes are yet found. But at this moment, there was another awakening to its unfolding story.

In passing flashes, its face would move; jolt, really. It jumped and squirmed; flickered and twitched, as if a weak current had found for itself a new path to explore. The trails being blazed were wholly uncharted, but they were made to harbor something. With its eyes particularly on the woman, there were contortions on her face that the cyborg could not define; that it could not comprehend, and without a sense of what to make of it, without a sense of what it was it saw, without even a thought, its face began attempting to recreate the myriad movements that crossed that delicate face in such a short time. Was this sadness?

-

In such a short time a history lay sprawled before the calloused masses whose eyes may or may not have caught it, or whose subconscious would not recognize it. Received or rejected - with contempt in either case - it lay bare before its assailers, its words of defense the very scars on its present state, inflicted by those it harbors. It goes that men bear the marks of their history. It is written on their bodies and their minds, and echoed in the oppressed sighs of those who bear its brunt.

Men fancy themselves the dreams of gods. At present, the cynic might call this an everlasting dream of a dead goddess. Perhaps a nihilistic nightmare of one who would never wake again; the nightmare of a goddess who handed her life to her children to see them live and prosper, but now finds herself forced to watch them gleefully destroy themselves. It is a nightmare the goddess shares with her children.

And a history shared among brothers and sisters, whose bodies bear the scars of their shared past.

-

In all the movements of the cyborg's facial features, there was a stillness. And like a line of ants gathering food from the emptied

remains of a victim, an unseen buffer had formed around the cyborg. The gathering of nobles who closed deals and prattled away their wondrous time would not go closer to 3 feet of the being. In such a way, its head still craned above, a spotlight of flooring had landed on it.

From a distance, the cyborg was being observed. 'tween slowly passing nobles and different Chevaliers, in a group of the higher echelon among the nobles was one particular man of nobility who, between otherwise amicable conversation, would steal glances at the creation. Only quick looks, as it was already looking that direction, but there was something in them. Utterly oblivious to the idea that it would be a piece of anything's attention, the cyborg looked away, back to the rising action, climax, and resolution phase of the conversation among Chevaliers and one particularly handsome, silver-haired one.

As that resolved, the cyborg had lost interest and would soon follow suit behind the female Chevalier (Daremita) and leave the manor.

"Could this be...?" A shocked, exasperated utterance shot from behind the cyborg. "You...how?" It was heavy, and breathy, so apparently shocked that it brought a cringe upon the cyborg. It seemed life forced its body to react in the way it ought. So much less to learn. Outside of the building, a sea of people made such an exchange almost as inconsequential as a husband who abused his wife or wife-to-be. The noble man circled the being once, looking it up and down, stretching out his hand to touch it.

"And this is where you have gone...but how? How does it live?" he switched from a person to an object, devoid of emotion and empathy. "Oh, such poor timing. It must be disposed of post-haste."

But at these words, the cyborg took a sharp step back. Was this revulsion that reverberated through its body; that pushed it back?

"I..." it began as a statement. Firm and steady, but fell to nothing all in the span of this one syllable. The one syllable that actuates existence. "I... will not be discarded. I will live."

And at this, the noble man was starting to know his own audacity. He was only starting to see the tears the goddess cried on her own altar. Wounds might heal, but the scars of men could not be erased. They remained for all posterity to observe. He backed away as a trembling hand rose to an frozen, ashen face. He was an agent of abomination, and could not now recognize his own limbs. He was an agent of abomination. He shared his lot with this benefactor and did poorly to hide his budding hideousness as a scene was beginning to form. Lying whispers rose about the newly formed space around the two. But they rose largely unnoticed; swallowed up by the word of lying whispers that surrounded them.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jeremiah Justus Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell
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Jeremiah Justus


Hm, yes, it was indeed in his professional opinion that this woman was in some serious need of freedom. For the gods' sakes, just looking at her made Jeremiah want to punch the people who made her like this right in their throats. He knew it strongly had to do with that rich snob back there--her so-called fiance, yeah, like that was going to happen--but it was more than that. It was all of these people. Those girls whispering in their stuck-up little group over there about how this poor woman was a whore just because they're jealous were just as much to blame as anyone else. And not to mention whoever put this woman up to it. They were probably even more to blame than the terrible fiance and the gossiping sluts altogether. What was the point in this kind of entrapment? It wasn't fair. This woman was gorgeous and, not to mention, a human being. Nobody deserved to live their life this way.

These people were like vultures. They would follow this woman around for her entire life, torturing her, mocking her, just waiting for her to finally snap and rot away like the useless lump of flesh they saw her as; and when she finally gave in, they would circle her and fly in for the kill. They would pick the meat off her fragile bones and eat her alive. Jeremiah had seen cases like these before and it was rare that he would let something so inhumane go without getting himself involved. Discreetly, of course. He had a full stomach and he was definitely in no mood for any sort of fight or big crowd-tossing event. Nah, he would go about this as quietly as possible for once. For the girl's sake, it would probably be for the best anyway.

When the blond woman's eyes landed back on him, a smile quickly spread across his lips. He didn't want her to see the bitter expression he'd probably been wearing and be thrown off by it. The last he wanted was to be compared to that awful man, especially in the mind of such a pleasant girl. “I-I . . . do not have to marry Louis . . . ?” The near-desperate look that suddenly overcame the girl's expression was almost too much for Jeremiah. He knew he did well at doing what he needed, but he'd be lying if he ever claimed to not be a sucker for a poor, pretty face. She didn't deserve this. He wanted to help her. That was the end of it. If he hadn't decided it before, he definitely had a decision now. “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?”

Jeremiah opened his mouth to give her the reply that he knew she had to be waiting for, but clamped his mouth shut when that fiance of hers appeared suddenly. “Elegy dear, what are you speaking of now?” He bit his tongue and looked up at the man, taking a step back to stand by the side of the presumed nurse to avoid listening in on the conversation. As much as he wanted to just take the guy by his hair and slam his face in the ground so he could eat the dirt he was made of, Jeremiah had more self-restraint than that. He had already decided that he didn't want to make a scene. It would only cause more trouble than it would help and in the end he had a feeling it would only put more stress on the woman he was trying to help in the first place. You came here looking to sucker a pixie out of her goods and now you're thinking of helping her run away into the moonlit night. This is why we can't have nice things, Jeremiah. You have got to stop being so nice.

As the man continued to torment the poor woman, Jeremiah remained still, passive. He watched from just a slight distance, pretending to give them privacy to keep the fiance from turning on him, but he was more than well aware of what was going on. The man was trying to intimidate her. He was trying to scold her and cut her deep down inside where only words could reach. He was trying to break her on the inside so he could build her hollow, soulless form up to be what he wanted it to be without any regard for her or her emotions. Jeremiah understood that pain, but he also understood that she would have to endure it, just this one last time, before he could help her.

Jeremiah's eyes had strayed away for just a second when the woman decided she couldn't take it any more. “N-No!” He couldn't help but smile as he watched her little outburst. It was more almost more entertaining listening to those around them react to the event than it was watching the event itself. “Why do you keep hurting me? If are so insistent on us being married, Louis, then why is it that you harm me . . . ?” That's right, stand up to the man. At least she had some fighting spirit left in her. She was far from being an empty shell. She still had a life worth saving. “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?” The man seemed to sputter out some gross words of distaste before storming off, hopefully back to the dark, dank cave he crawled out of.

When the woman fell back into her chair, obviously exasperated, Jeremiah let out a wistful sigh and elbowed the female next to him. "This is why marriage is a bad idea." He laughed, even though he was pretty sure the lady next to him wasn't joining along, and then went about ignoring her once again to focus on the blond woman. He approached her with confidence, pointedly ignoring the looks and whispers of those around them, and grabbed her by the hand, forcing her up and to her feet. He then raised his voice, speaking in a tone much louder than necessary just so those around them could hear him loud and clear, even though he was only speaking to the woman. "Oh, poor lady! You're looking very ill! Come with me and I'll take you to rest!" With that minimal performance taken care of, he placed his hand behind the small of the blond woman's back and carefully led her along inside the building.

When the were inside, he quickly put a finger to his smiling lips and didn't say another word as he lead her through the halls. A few people glanced in their direction, but he made no move to hide their presence or look suspicious, even going as far to wave at a few of them and greet them as casually as ever. Finally, it seemed that they reached a place where nobody could look upon them, so Jeremiah pulled the woman down a hall--he honestly hadn't a clue where he was going--and released her so she could walk on her own, if she was able to. "This seems like a good enough place. We should be able to speak freely here." He shot her a wide grin. "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."

Oh, he'd been rambling on. Coughing slightly with embarrassment, Jeremiah cleared his throat and went on. "You do get a choice." He stopped and stood to face her, looking around to make sure nobody was watching. He hoped that there was nobody ready to turn the corner and see them. "I don't even have to ask what you want. You made your choice back there." He looked around again, but this time for a way out. "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?" He smiled again. "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." So far, so good. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he once thought.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anna Sun Mazurick Character Portrait: Jeremiah Justus Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus
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Flandre jogged down the halls, stopping at every branch off, deciding whether to go in it or no, then proceeding on in her chosen direction. She held her weapon (which was taller than her) at her right side, it being held horizontally, with the head pointed backwards, so she'd be less likely to bump into anybody and seriously injure them. One of the last things she needed was for herself to hurt anybody.

As she was going down a hall, it had a branch off to the right, but then she heard voices; "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." which caused her to immediately stopped and put her back to the wall near the corner. She took a glance around the corner, and saw a man talking with... with Elegy Lovell?

"You do get a choice." He looked up to look around, and Flandre immediately turned her head back while silently gasping. She tensed up, but then when she heard him talk again, she looked back. "I don't even have to ask what you want. You made your choice back there." He looked up and around again, and this time, Flandre wasn't so quickly to react, him having looked her way before she could turn her head back. Had he really suspected her presence? "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? 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."

Flandre would had been furious and shocked by this, some random man trying to 'make a move' on Louis's fiance. Did he even have any idea who she was? And what was that whole thing about choices? Didn't Elegy Lovell choose to be with Louis Auttenburg? Flandre would have been confused, along with the other two emotions mentioned earlier, but all three of these emotions only barely contrasted and fit with the fear of being caught. She trembled as she grew tense and stiff, closing her eye and trying to keep her shaky breath silent, but then at once, she didn't need to.

A gloved hand grabbed onto her mouth from behind, but she hadn't had the time to react before another one reached and disarmed her of her weapon, but then grabbed onto her left arm and held the weapon against it. Flandre resisted with her legs and free arm, but the arms grabbing her were of supernatural strength. However, she had not made the attempt to scream or cry for help, or even stomp to at least make some noise, as if it weren't even in her mind.

The gloved hands dragged her into another hall, away from Elegy Lovell and the man, and into another hallway. Then they let go of her, dropping her onto the ground. Flandre quickly recovered, taking a hold of her weapon and facing her kidnapper, striking a battle pose, rather than attempting to run. As if it wasn't obvious, it was the man in black, the Freeman. Rather than questioning, Flandre immediately swung her trident at him, him having just stepping back in response. Flandre switched to her left hand with the momentum, and as not to lose the momentum, she spun it with that hand and jumped toward him and struck down. He dodged again, leaving Flandre striking the ground, but as she was recovering from that strike, he simply struck the weapon's shaft with his forearm, causing Flandre to fall back.

He walked toward her, causing Flandre to struggle to get up, but did, using her trident for a support. Flandre struck down on him, using her weapon like a mallet, but the Freeman blocked it with his forearm. He must had been wearing some sort of gauntlet under his coat. He also likely had some sort of drug that gave him superhuman strength. He then grabbed the weapon by it's head using his free arm, and pulled it out of Flandre's hands. Flandre gasped immediately in response. The Freeman simply took the weapon and threw it onto the ground between them, head facing him, shaft facing her. He placed his foot on the head. Flandre collapsed to reach her weapon.

"Your fatal weakness it seems," the Freeman taunted, "Otherwise, you are absolutely perfect." Flandre tried to pick the weapon up, but couldn't. Because she was helpless on the ground, she decided to stand up slowly, keeping a foot on the weapon. The Freeman merely shifted his foot, causing the trident to move out from under her foot, causing Flandre to collapse for it and hold it again. She was mostly helpless. It didn't seem as if the Freeman had any weapon on him with a large enough range to hit her, but he didn't want to kill her anyway.

"Flandre," he stated, "We have simply had enough of letting you run around freely with information about us. However, my employers have told me that they don't want you dead. So, I ask you, why are you so loyal to such greedy aristocrats, who cause so much suffering, and don't help those against them, when you gain nothing from them." Flandre didn't dare answer. "You are so talented, and yet so blind..."

"Why are you here?" Flandre asked. "I was simply given the chore to eliminate a loose end that happened to be here today," the Freeman answered, "Though, if you join now, I may be able to assure his life for a few more days." Flandre scowled at him. "My dear, Flandre. Have you ever listened to the stories behind the criminals you've taken down?" the Freeman asked. "They were all criminals, I don't care about their reasoning. If they've broken the law, they have tainted their soul and have begun to go down the darker path. That is all I need to know." The Freeman frowned.

He then reached inside his coat for something, and pulled out a yellow paper with black ink markings on it. Flandre recognized it as a spirit photograph, as she had learned how to read them. "This woman, the redhead, is a huge criminal. You may have heard of her before. I want you to get her arrested here and now. Then we may know exactly how worthy you are, for she happens to be quite the fighter, as are you. However, when you take her down, listen to her story. Listen to why she had become a criminal, and why she continues to resist. Learn why she hates aristocrats. Then, you may do whatever you want with her. However, you must make you decision then and there. Continue indirectly serving the greedy Dukes and otherwise, or come back to me. I'll be waiting."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jeremiah Justus Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Damian Cline
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[Elegy Lovell]


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. . . .

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Character Portrait: Jeremiah Justus Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Damian Cline
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Jeremiah Justus


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.

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Character Portrait: Jeremiah Justus Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell Character Portrait: Damian Cline
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[Elegy Lovell]


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.”

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Character Portrait: Jeremiah Justus Character Portrait: Elegy Lovell
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Jeremiah Justus


Jeremiah felt the slight shift of the lady in his arms and wondered if she would be able to retain the pain or if she might pass out altogether. He'd really rather have her remain conscious throughout the night. It would be much harder to transport a sack of a woman than a lively one, even if she was in pain throughout the whole ordeal. He knew her pain had to stem from some other issue that he wasn't currently aware of, one that he couldn't see with his eyes. It might be something under her clothing--and no, by no means was he going to check there, even if she wasn't too bad of a looker if he was being perfectly honest--or something under her skin, inside her body. She may have a virus of some sort or an illness much worse than that. The idea that she might have some contagious or deadly occurred to him and it made him a little nervous. He didn't want to catch whatever it was she obviously had and he didn't want to be responsible for a dying woman.

“I-I am not ill….” Jeremiah only barely suppressed his sigh of relief. She must have read his mind. He resisted shifting her even though she was beginning to become a bit of a strain. She wasn't all that heavy in the least and he wasn't weak by any means, but, well, he wasn't a man made of muscles and holding a fully grown woman of any weight for an extended period of time was just not delightful. However, he told himself to suck it up and suffer through it to hear what she had to say. Once they got out of this, she totally owed him. “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.” Oh. Oh. Oh. Well, that was a different story entirely. “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.”

He would take her word for it. She had no reason to lie to him and it made enough sense. He looked between her, the nurse, and the door, before sighing. He really felt a strong urge to fix his hair since it was beginning to feel messy with this whole situation, but since his hands were full, he resisted the trivial movement. He knew it was going to bother him for the whole rest of the night. "Alright, ma'am, where do we need to go to slip our ways out of this party?" He took a step down the hall, back the way he came, and hesitated. Hadn't he heard noises coming from this direction earlier? He was sure he recalled a few voices, but he wasn't a hundred percent. This was a party after all, an event, of course there would people anywhere they looked. Running into someone was inevitable, and yet it was a risk that they really didn't need to take. On the way here, it might have been okay, but they couldn't be seen a second time without raising suspicions.

"We need a way out without catching anyone's attention. This is sort of your place, isn't it? Don't you know where to go?" Jeremiah was beginning to feel a little antsy. Someone had to want to look for her, the duke's wife. She was an important person at this party and she'd fallen ill, so of course some people would be wanting to check up on her, if just to make themselves look good or to see her in a miserable state. He took a glance over his shoulder and saw that it was a dead end, so they really had no choice but to wade at least a short ways back in the way they came. As he was checking behind him, his gaze happened to hover over a beautiful crystal vase and oh man did he want that. It was just small enough to fit in his bag. Maybe if he just... Nono, he had the missus here with him, that wouldn't be a very acceptable thing to do.

...Well, she owed him anyway, didn't she? Ugh, no, no, Jeremiah, be a good boy and save the princess before you reap the jewels. Don't you know how to play the game by now? Sigh. A little less enthusiastic than he'd been before, Jeremiah turned them back around and made a silent plea for the voices he'd heard to be ones they wouldn't have to worry about. "If anyone talks to us, just follow along whatever lead I give you. Okay, doll? I don't want this to be any more difficult than it needs to be." Of course, that was about as bad as saying 'it couldn't possibly get any worse.' Just as he turned the corner, just a short ways down, he had to stop at a vaguely familiar sight of some small group of people. He didn't allow it to catch him off guard as he smiled and continued on his way.