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Jeremiah Justus

"Seeing isn't believing."

0 · 232 views · located in Leu Chrysallia

a character in “A Phantasmagorical Metamorphose”, as played by Spectrum



Streetlight Manifesto - Forty Days

The Vagabond
Too many to count and most aren't pretty.

Lean and athletic with no visible muscle
Hair Color:
Eye Color:

Handsome in any way you try to look at him, Jeremiah is a good-looking young man and his body language shows just how much he knows it, too. His short-cropped, choppy green hair messily strewn about in no particular style is soft to the touch and easy to run a hand through--whether the hand is his or another's is an entirely different story. His lean build is enough to show off his body in an...unmarked way. There's no muscle, but also no fat or ribs. He's obviously very healthy and well-maintained. Well...when he's in the mood for it. He tries to keep his good looks in check, but when you're the type to travel around like he is, it's not uncommon to get some dirt smudged here and there or to go hungry for a day or two. Even still, his looks seem to be natural and unwavering, even in the dirtiest of situations. His skin is sunkissed, but not quite as tan as one might expect from someone who travels as much as he does. It's probably because he has naturally peachy skin that doesn't tan easily, nor does it burn too quickly, which is a relief.

The worst markings you might find anywhere are a few scrapes and bruises here and there from a couple close calls, but he's yet to sustain any terrible injuries. ...or maybe that's a bit of a lie. He does happen to have one scar that runs down his back. It doesn't appear to be a clean cut, as if from a knife or sword, but more of one that came from a whip. He doesn't talk about it and he isn't fond of showing it off. His ears, pointed at the tips, are usually hidden in the tufts of his messy hair, but the tips can usually still be seen poking out. The most prominent visible feature would have to be his eyes, bright and kind even in the worst of situations. Despite his ability to mask his emotions on his face, his eyes always seem to tell the story his mouth will refuse to tell.

Preferred Clothing:
While Jeremiah would usually prefer comfort over style, he does feel better about looking good than looking ratty. Since he's usually traveling around in the heat and the cold, his clothing style depends on how the weather is that day and he may often find himself unprepared for spontaneous changes, like rainstorms. He usually doesn't steal his clothes, so most of what he wears is ratty or old and worn and things that are good with helping him blend in with a crowd--unless, of course, he's trying to get the attention of those around him, then he might dress in bright colors or even a silly jester-esque costume. What he wears usually depends on the situation, his mood, and the availability at the time.

-> Jeremiah will always regard his elders with the respect he believes they deserve, even if they seem to be the most rotten of people. He claims that if they are rude, then they lived a long life that made them up to be that way. He will listen to anything they have to say to him with utmost politeness, even if they're just rambling about their grandchildren or something else as trivial. Of course, this doesn't keep him from tricking them like any other, especially if they have something nice that he wants.

-> He calls females of any age "lady" or "madam," unless he's friendly with them--then he'll become more casual and call them by less official titles and will even insult them if he feels like it. To strangers, though, he tries harder to not act so rudely unless they treat him rudely, then they'll get attitude.

-> He is very active when he talks and emphasizes his words through gestures, even if he's laying down or just having a normal conversation. It's very much by habit and it's not something he thinks about while he's doing it unless someone were to point it out.

-> When Jeremiah feels like he's upset or on the verge of tears and doesn't want anyone around to see him sad or crying, he will instantly run a hand down in front of his face and then force himself to make a different expression. It may seem random at the time, or even annoying if the particular situation is a sad one, but he'll just keep doing that a few times over, making different silly expressions each time his hand goes over his face, until he feels like he's calmed down enough to maintain his composure.

-> Sweet-talking. Jeremiah can talk his way out of any situation. You name it--he's probably been in it. And nothing's worth more than personal, first-hand experience. He knows people well enough to be able to figure them out pretty quickly. He can almost always figure out just the right things to say to get him out of a risky situation, whether it's something as trivial as getting out of a chore or something as dangerous as saving his own hyde.

-> Thievery. Being a bit of a kleptomaniac (or, well, maybe a little more than just a "bit" of one), Jeremiah is quite skilled in the ways of stealing. If there's something he wants, then one way or another he'll more than likely have it. He can be pretty ambitious about some specific items and might go out of his way for them, and he's slick enough to simply walk behind a random person in passing and take them for whatever they've got without them, or anyone around them, even having a clue about it.

-> Escaping. When all else fails: run. He's definitely not above running away from the enemy, especially when they're in angry mob form. Over the years, he's developed the ability to find the right places to hide away until it's safe or just be a touch quicker than the enemy--quick enough, at least, to slide out of their reach and into safety (or another crappy situation, with his luck).

+Good looks
-Getting caught
-Tight situations

Claustrophobia - Fear of confined spaces.
Cleisiophobia - Fear of being locked up or imprisoned.
Scotophobia - Fear of blindness [or being unable to see temporarily].
Gamophobia - Fear of commitment.

Contrary to popular belief, Jeremiah is not a bad guy--well, then again, that depends who you are. He can be your worst nightmare or your best guy friend; a hero to some, a bastard to most. And neither opinion would be completely incorrect with their beliefs towards him. Yeah, he can be a pretty bad guy, but he's not all bad. He has his reasons and he even has his many good sides, it just depends which face you're looking at at the time. At first glance, Jeremiah isn't anything stunning. With his cheeky smile and confident swagger, he definitely doesn't seem to be a bad guy. He has a very cheerful disposition and it's hard to catch him without a smile on his face. In fact, the only times he'll ever not be grinning is when nobody's watching, when he's on his own and nobody's looking his way, Jeremiah is not smiling. But most never get to see that side of him. The side most people see is this quirky guy who can't stop smiling, even as he's running from people who have a death wish on his name. To others, he comes off at optimistic and rarely has anything bad to say about anything. He's always good about looking on the bright side of a situation and he has an uncanny ability to cheer up even the saddest of people.

The one thing nobody can doubt is that Jeremiah Justus is a true trouble maker. He has a knack for getting himself caught up in the worst kinds of situations, whether on his own or just through his luck. He can't help but jump headfirst into a situation that's obviously bound to screw him over one way or another. And he has many different reasons for doing the things he does. He might do it to help some poor soul out or maybe he'll do it to make some bad guy's life that much inconvenient. Jeremiah has his own set of morals and he truly believes the bad don't deserve anything good in their lives. He doesn't exactly believe all people should be punished, but he strongly believes in good karma and bad karma, and he believes that good should come to those who are good and bad should come to those who are bad. With that said, he doesn't consider himself a good person. Although he's been known to do good, like give money to those in desperate need of it or save an innocent soul from being attacked by no-good ruffians, he's also well aware that he's done plenty of bad in his life and will never believe that any amount of good can make up for it. The thought of this makes him very resentful, but he's accepted it as truth and refuses to believe otherwise. With that said, that makes him a sort of hypocrite. He tells everyone that they can be redeemed and that whatever bad they've done no longer matters as long as they do good from here on out. He believes that's true for everyone besides himself. He's very hard on himself.

Okay, so Jeremiah might not seem like that bad of a guy so far, but there's a reason there's a warrant for his head. In fact, only a small handful of people would probably even consider him a guy worth saving. Most would consider him nothing more than a thief, a troublemaker, a no-good, double-crossing, aggravating little rat whose innards deserve nothing better than to be sliced open and laid out on a rusted, filthy dirty platter. He's accumulated many enemies over the years through his gambling addiction (although he likes to consider it a simple way to pass the time rather than an addiction). The best thing he's gotten out of this is the unreadable poker face and a whole bunch of angry people who've accused him of cheating on more than just a few occasions. The truth of the matter is...yes, he's cheated. Tons of times. Jeremiah hates the idea of losing so much and just absolutely loves those pretty pennies enough so that he's resorted to using dirty tricks many times. Needless to say, he's been caught about half of these times and the results weren't pretty. If he can't win a game, then he'll simply sneak into the person's room in the middle of the night and take them for all they're worth, disappearing before morning without the slightest hint of empathy.

That's not the only way Jeremiah gets what he wants, however. Oh no, he has a whole skillset of ways to get stuff. He's been known to swindled people out of their cash by throwing on a dramatic act, even in the middle of a market area or a city. He's been known to interrupt the everyday flow of the people to call their attention to him as he puts on a little magic act, even though he can't even use magic. They're all simple tricks and illusions that he's taught himself over the years, but they're usually enough to get peoples' attention. He can be quite the actor when he needs to be and it's not hard for him to catch the crowd's attention with the confident way he struts himself. Before anyone knows it, their wallets are missing and he's disappeared for good to move on to the next section of the city. Aside from that, he's also pretty crafty at convincing the ladies (and even some weak-kneed gentlemen) to take his good looks for granted. He knows just the right words to send a person swooning and he's been known to be quite the lady-killer, although he's never managed to keep a single one of them. That just adds up a whole other list of enemies who'd like to see his bloody head on a stake.

The biggest point to make about Jeremiah is his lack of truth. Whether it be in his words or in his face, he rarely ever shares the truth with anyone, including himself most of the time. He has yet to find someone that he trusts enough to share any personal information with, especially not someone to share his secrets with. He's a wanderer, one with many enemies but not a single friend. His poker face is not strictly reserved for games, but also for real life. Having a poker face doesn't mean he is expressionless, but that he is able to show a different expression than how he is feeling emotionally. He could of just seen something that tore him apart inside and, while a normal person may be breaking down in tears, he could turn around and grin just like he would any other day in any other situation, as if it didn't bother him at all. He also has a bad habit of lying compulsively, especially if it's to get what he wants or to get himself out of a situation. Lying, whether emotionally or verbally, seems to be the one thing he turns to in any situation.

An average Katana sword.

Fighting Style:
Jeremiah is a very quick and skilled fighter when it comes to the sword. He favors more defensive positions rather than any full-on offensive attacks towards the enemy and he usually stays more focused on getting away rather than defeating his opponent. He'd rather inflict minor cuts and scrapes here and there than any serious injuries. While he is quick on his feet and avoids more attacks than he initiates, he may sometimes resort to using small tricks to throw his opponent off--they can be small smoke bombs, cracklers, glitter, and other things.

-> Because of all the games he's played in his time, Jeremiah has developed the innate ability to pull of what he believes to be a near-perfect poker face, including no tell-tale signs of lying or falsehood. At the same time, he's also very good at telling when someone else is lying.

-> Because of his love of old artifacts, he can usually tell when something is fake or if it's actually a real artifact. Although he can't tell with everything exactly, he's become pretty good at being able to tell the general age of those types of things.

Relationship Status:
Single and swingin'
Personal History:
With an elven father and a human mother, Jeremiah lived a hectic, distasteful early childhood. Soon after his mother had him, his father left her. It was apparently for a noble cause and she never held it against him, even though his disappearance left them poor and hungry and forced to wander or beg for their food. To pass the time, his mother told him countless stories of his father: the adventurer. She would tell him all about the things his father accomplished in his lifetime. He was a vigilante, a proud chevalier, a man of his word who lived by the sword and did only good for the people he believed deserved it. She'd tell him fairytale-like stories where his father beat off twenty--no, it was thirty!--men at once just to save her from having her hand severed after being caught stealing food one day. Jeremiah's mother told him that his father was a good, charming man like no others and that she could only hope to see him again someday. She never quite told him why it was that he left them, but she made sure to tell Jeremiah never to hold it against him because it was for a good cause and for the sake of their safety.

Jeremiah, being young and easily influential, fell in love with these stories. He built up a proud image of his father in his head and began play make believe where he was this cool hero who fought off the bad guys and got all the women to love him. He dreamed of meeting his dad some day and decided in order to do that, he'd have to train and be just as cool as him, if that was even possible. Of course, this was all just a fantasy and despite being poor, Jeremiah had yet to discover the true cruelness of the world. When he was with his mother in town one day, maybe only six-years-old, he wandered off after seeing something that caught his eye. It was a sort of crown made for royalty--fake, of course, but definitely expensive. He knew he'd never be able to have it, but a man came up and bought it for him right out of the blue. Jeremiah had been so happy at the time that he hardly questioned why the man even bought something so ridiculously expensive for him, a little kid. The man then told him he needed to pay off his debt and, right there in the middle of people too busy to notice, took Jeremiah away.

Jeremiah never saw his mother again after that.

ImageAfter that, things started spiraling downhill. Jeremiah was never fully aware of his surroundings, being tossed from one place to another. He was never told what was happening--all he knew was that if someone told him to do something, he had to do it no matter how hard it seemed. If he didn't, he was punished. There were others who seemed to be just like him--all young, scared, confused, begging for their parents. As a year passed by, Jeremiah realized he would never see his mother again. He was told that he was a working slave and that he was to do what he was told or he would be killed. He didn't doubt the man's words after seeing this punishment first-hand on another kid. The begging around him turned away from freedom and died into lifeless pleas of food and water. It was harsh and they were always traveling somewhere. In the winter, some died of frostbite and in the summer, some died of heatstroke; in-between, some died from starvation, fatigue, or rebellion. It all occurred quickly and in a daze for Jeremiah. One day, he'd been perfectly content with his mother and the next he'd been stuck being whipped hard in the back just because he dropped a box of fruit. The only thing he ever really held onto were his fantasies about how cool his father was and how his father would never let this happen and how his father would never die like this. After a few years, however, even those dreams began to fade. He still believed in his father, but he no longer believed in himself. If he was ever as good as his father, he would have escaped in the first week and freed the others. He was not a hero. He never stood up to those being beaten or killed. He never shared his food or his water. His father wouldn't want a son like that.

Eventually, at the age of thirteen, Jeremiah got his chance to escape. One of those towing them around had forgotten to handcuff him and all he had to do was walk out. If he was fast enough, he could get away. The realization occurred to him and he didn't hesitate to stand and start on his way out, stunned and confused. He passed by others who were too weak or tired to call him out and he considered letting them out. He could of done it. He could have freed every single one of them at the risk of one of the handlers returning and killing he did. He tried, anyway. He opened the doors of each room and he told the others to leave, but they were too shell-shocked or suspicious to listen and when he heard a handler returning, instead of pushing the others any further, Jeremiah simply panicked and left them all behind. The truth is, there was probably nothing he could do, but he blames himself for not trying harder.

Since then, it has not been an easy ride. Jeremiah learned to fend for himself and picked up many habits, debts, and deathwishes along the way. He's traveled countless places and met countless people--some of which he did good for, and some of which he did not. He's gotten his money through tricks, thievery, and gambling and, on some occasions, he's given his money to those who seem to need it more than him. He's stolen from those who seem to have too much. Any good he does anymore is his way of trying to make up for the bad he feels he did when he was younger, even though he doesn't believe he can ever atone for that.

He swings both ways *winkwink* and he caries around a worn bag with him wherever he goes that carries all of his essentials. The bag has a messily stitched "J" on it to resemble his name. He also has a few smaller bags that he uses to carry his money or stolen items, usually hidden on his person. Also, when it comes to alcohol, he's a total lightweight. It's embarrassing.

So begins...

Jeremiah Justus's Story


Characters Present

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 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?"


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.


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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'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.


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'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."


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'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.