Evan Tuck

"Any man who believes in love is a fool; love is selfish and hollow."

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a character in “April 1912”, as played by Sirius Baren


Evan Elias Tuck

"...name's Tuck..."
Evan Elias Tuck

"Don't ever call me Elias."
Elias {it was what Cecelia always called him. He despises the name now}

"Some days it feels like I've lived too long already."
January 5th, 1886 - 26 years old

"My family has always been from England, and I thought I'd always stay in England."
100 % British

"Have you ever seen the body of a woman?"

"I've fought hard for my spot on the food chain, I'm not about to give it up."
Second Class

"My job is to argue for a living, don't even think you're about to win a debate with me."

"She was my dream...I thought she was forever."

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall
Evan isn't a particularly tall man and is considered about average in height. He has dark and rich caramel colored hair. He has a strong jawline, and coupled with his cool grey eyes, has quite the smolder. He generally has a very serious and sober look upon his face which gives off an air of concentration. He rarely smiles, but when he does he had pearly and straight teeth. He is well considered handsome, which is why he doesn't have too difficult of a time getting women into his bed. As a lawyer he spends most of his time indoors, but despite that he still has a very healthy look to him.

Lean and muscular with broad shoulders.

180 lbs


12 (US)

Aptitudes and Oddities

He loves to read unusual and fascinating court cases, especially the ones that have made history. He also is fond of cigars and very strong alcohol. Evan loves to converse with anyone that can keep up with him, whether in normal conversation or debating a subject. He loves those with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. He has always had a love for music, whether it's from a record or at a performance hall; jazz is his favorite.

Women in general. They are the devil spawn to him and he can never trust anything they say.

Being alone; though he'd never admit it. When he's alone his mind wanders to dangerous places and this is usually when he starts his heavy drinking.

He has a way with words and can talk himself out of almost any situation--or into any situation.

He's very good at debating and anyone close to him refuses to get in an argument because they know that they'll lose even if they are right.

He has a very difficult time with trusting women.

Beautiful women; even though he doesn't trust them, he is weak to their beauty.

He's a very poor sport when it comes to losing. There's only been two cases in his professional career that he's lost, and it was because he was distracted by his divorce. He gets very bitter and in a bit of a slump when he loses.

Evan is an extremely bright and intelligent man. He knows this, but doesn't flaunt it and only uses it to his advantage when working on a case. Despite his high intelligence he is also very charismatic which has helped him in his career.

Before Cecelia destroyed him, Evan was a gentle and attentive man. He always looked out for others and was willing to help anyone in need. He took on a lot of cases pro-bono. He was a very charitable man, though a bit of a trouble maker. He loved to pull pranks on his teachers growing up and was very adept at talking his way out of trouble. He's very charming and respectable. His mother raised him to be a gentleman and always think of a lady's comfort and well being before himself.

When Evan found out Cecelia was cheating on him, he broke inside and something very dark entered into his soul. He has become bitter, and cynical towards life. All of the charm he had oozed before he now uses to get laid with women of any social standing or class. He has developed an incredible skill in hiding the pain he constantly feels. He has had a great deal of practice in the courtroom and can lie through his teeth. He views women in a very harsh light now and only gives attempt at chivalrous behavior if it will benefit him. He's become quite the selfish and self-motivated divorcee.

Evan is the middle child to an upper middle class family from London. His older brother Geoffrey, became a doctor, and his younger sister has always shone in the spotlight for her beauty and talents. As a boy, Evan was always fascinated with the art of debate and civilized arguments. He was quite good at talking his way out of trouble during his school years and it came as no surprise when he graduated high school and declared he wanted to become a lawyer. He was accepted into Oxford and spent nearly all of his time with his head buried in books or attending guest lectures. Evan was passionate for his work and had few friends because of his busy schedule.

It was during the summer of his second year that he met Cecelia. Cecelia was everything Evan had wanted. She was beautiful, poised, and clever with her tongue. He spent the whole summer chasing after her and was over the moon when she finally gave him the time of day. He courted her for six months before he proposed and confessed his undying love and devotion to her. She accepted his proposal and they were wed the following spring.

Evan felt like he was on top of the world. He had an incredible wife, had graduated Oxford with high honors, and had been given a position at a prestigious law firm in the heart of London. Even though he seemed to work all of the time and lived more at the firm than at home, he always made sure that he devoted some time to Cecelia and made sure she didn't feel forgotten.

It came as quite a huge blow when Evan found her in a rather compromising position. He had decided to surprise her for their two year anniversary by taking time off and to surprise her. When he came home he found her in the throws of passion upstairs with a man he had never seen before.

Evan had never known such pain could exist. It felt as though she had ripped his heart out and trampled over it. He couldn't stand to look at her. He didn't understand where he had gone wrong. When he found out that she had never loved him, had only married him for status and money, he lost it. He went on a dangerous drinking binge that last two weeks. When he finally sobered up--thanks to his brother--he filed for divorce and kicked Cecelia out.

After that he became extremely cynical and quite the bitter man. He was still hurt from Cecelia's betrayal and was having a difficult time overcoming the pain. He began to disregard all woman for any good virtues and did a complete 180. He went from a loving and sensitive husband to a bit of a player who used women long enough for physical gratification before tossing them aside. They were all vixens and vipers after all.

It had been a year since the divorce was finalized when news of the Titanic reached him. Evan was tired of his life in London and decided that a fresh start was in order and purchased a ticket hoping that America could soothe his scarred and battered heart.


Sirius Baren

Mountain Standard[MT] .

As often as is needed.

So begins...

Evan Tuck's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Schoen, Madame Jaqueline Character Portrait: Chun-Hwa Mun Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage Character Portrait: Amelia V. Nelson Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Coraline Jennine Blackwood Character Portrait: Blanche Herveaux Character Portrait: Jewett, Paul Mr. Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Abia Crane Character Portrait: William Crane Character Portrait: Henry R. Nelson Character Portrait: Noah Cobain Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Domonic Drew Castell Character Portrait: Caspian Mar Grey Character Portrait: Ollie R. Gatz Character Portrait: Xavior G. Kennedy Character Portrait: Timothy P. Silver Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Van Der Woodsen, Madame Yvette Character Portrait: Oscar Dawson Character Portrait: Arthur McGhee Character Portrait: Ophelia Böhm Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor

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Date: Wednesday, 10 April 1912. xxxLocation: Southampton, England. xxx
Arrival Time: 9:30 a.m xxx Time of Departure: 11:30 a.m. xxxWeather: Brisk winds northwest at 15-20 mph; 50°C

"Aye, batte'n down the hatches will ya'?"

"Are my eyes deceiv'n me, or am I seein' this ship's ready to land?"

"Eeeeh, boy!"

"I'm needin' help to pull this lever."

"Ready to land, Captain!"

A slow, crooked smile had spread across Captain Smith's face resembling that of much content. The great ocean liner had took approximately three years to construct, engineered to be the largest and most luxurious steam ship in the world. Its very first voyage would truly be something worth remembering; articles about the ship were thus written, claiming it to be a marvel of modern engineering. Both men, women, and children alike came fleeing from their homeland to get a glimpse of the monstrous beauty that dared hinge itself onto the British port as if it was the only thing that withheld dominance. The passengers to board the luxury ocean liner were nonetheless grateful. Many had lifted their chins up in prestige because not only were they able to gain enough money to enter, but they were the first to do so. Street market sells boomed significantly, men were getting their beard groomed quickly as their wives pimped their children for the long journey; brushing off any specks from the petticoats of young girls, and straightening their son's woolen jacket.

And, it all happened in a speck of time. Everyone clustering, like ants. It wasn't later until the ship's plank board was lowered had everyone began pushing and shoving for a leading spot up the ramp.

"You want first-class passengers to board first, Captain?" One of the ship's crew member approached him. It was no surprise that even the most wealthiest aristocats were given better treatment. To Captain Smith the first-class were 'walking money', they would surely help spread the word, and perhaps bring in even more fortune. "Yes," Smith assured, "let the first-class board first."

And, off the worker went to announce the news to the people who waited impatiently. "Listen up," he had to shout over the uproar, "so, far we have at least two thousand two hundred and twenty eight thousand of you. I want first-class passengers to board first, then second, and lastly third. I want this to be done in an orderly fashion. We will set off in approximately two hours."

At that the commotion grew much louder, people kissed their loved one's a farewell. It was a moment of ecstasy, all for the ship that deemed as virtually unsinkable, the Titanic was truly a phenomenon.

Mood: Observant xxx Outfit:herexxx Theme song: N.A. xxx

'Two hours, two hours, two hours ..'

Arthur McGhee felt the perspiration beginning to form at his temple, like thousands of tiny crystals scattered about his ivory skin. He wiped at it with the back of his hand as he chewed at his lower lip, it was a habit he had possessed since it was his conceitedness that got him stuck in the game of Cheat at the British port pub.

He remembered his words, a mockery as he smirked at the dunderheed that had just sent another man walking with loss. 'Ah bet yer ass I can win you at a game of cards. Aw or nothin', lad.' But, nevertheless it was those very words that had got him a pound short out of his pocket. If only he'd kept his mouth shut.

"You give'n up yet?" Arthur looked up from his stack of cards to the burly man who sat before him, the way his crusted lips curled back in amusement every moment he saw the poor Scott's exasperation.

He kept his answer short. "No." He concentrated on his next play.

He put down an ace, and at that, the man guffawed something bitter and awful that made Arthur fight the urge to hurl.

"You aren't gonna win, mate." Arthur ignored him as he put down a two.

Then, a four; six, eight, and before you know it he's all out of cards. Checkmate.

Arthur looked up at the man's now gawked expression, and smirked. "Mibbe ah jus did."

The guy was infuriated now as he looked at the cards, to Arthur, to the cards, then back up at Arthur. "Bullshit," he spat out a wad of tobacco juice out of the side of his mouth.

The man was nothing but muscle and tattoo compared to Arthur. However, as he said that Arthur couldn't hold it in anymore. He laughed, and laughed until his sides were cramping; until the man grabbed at his white button down, and heaved him up from his chair. "I want a rematch". He demanded, spit freckling across Arthur's face.

"Not how it works." The man pushed Arthur against a wall; hard. Others began to move away immediately in the process at the same time the owner shouted for the two men to take their tussle outside, but he was only ignored. "Listen to me, mate. I will hurt-" he was distracted by Arthur's hand moving behind his ear, thus a silver dollar had appeared between his fingers as if by magic.

"Did you not hear me? Arthur's smile widened. "Yer outta luck, lassie." He threw the coin at the man's face, causing him to loose his grip on Arthur.

"Aye!" he called out as he saw the sly Scott scoop up a few coins from their table, including a third-class ticket to board the 'White Star Line', and ran free from the pub toward the grand ship.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Evan Tuck

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Image There was a dull throb pulsing within Evan's head as he stood on the pier, suitcase in hand, and marveled at the ship of gargantuan size. He was starting to regret the one too many glasses of whiskey the night before. He had spent his night in one of the gentleman's clubs smoking, drinking, and attempting to win his hand at several card games. He failed mostly.

The chatter was a very annoying and constant hum. Children were skirting about with laughter as they played. He watched as the wealthy and who's who of the higher circles in society were all instructed to board. He watched them go, dress in pomp and frills. The women were decked out in silks and satin while the men had perfectly tailored suits. Evan had always been fascinated with this wealthy class. Nearly all of them had been born into their fortunes, and for many of them they had a seemingly endless stream of money and refinery.

Evan had several clients that reflected these people he saw now. Many of them required his services to skirt over the law, whether for taxes or misrepresented information. Evan was good at his job. He always got them off scot free.

He turned his attention away from the first class passengers and observed the rest who were standing on the dock. Even with the second and third class remaining to be boarded, it was fairly evident where the division was. Many of those with a second class ticket were still dressed well and were clean. The third class was marked by their obvious poverty in both their clothes--and for some--their level of hygiene.

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to dispel the headache he had. He cursed himself for being in this situation. He wanted to enjoy this moment and be apart of history but all he wanted to do in the moment was board the ship, find his room, and lay down. The chaotic symphony of the pier was getting to be too much and he pressed his eyes shut. He held his suitcase firmly in one hand, took in a slow breath, and then looked back to the ship. It seemed that the remaining first class passengers were nearly finished boarding.

Good. He thought. It meant that he would be able to board with his ticket soon. Evan began to weave through the crowd towards the docking station and patted his jacket pocket where his ticket was. It was time to move on from England. He needed a fresh start. He needed to get away from every tainted place that reminded him of her.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Schoen, Madame Jaqueline Character Portrait: Chun-Hwa Mun Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage Character Portrait: Amelia V. Nelson Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Coraline Jennine Blackwood Character Portrait: Blanche Herveaux Character Portrait: Jewett, Paul Mr. Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Abia Crane Character Portrait: William Crane Character Portrait: Rosalie Essex Character Portrait: Henry R. Nelson Character Portrait: Noah Cobain Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Domonic Drew Castell Character Portrait: Caspian Mar Grey Character Portrait: Ollie R. Gatz Character Portrait: Xavior G. Kennedy Character Portrait: Timothy P. Silver Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Van Der Woodsen, Madame Yvette Character Portrait: Oscar Dawson Character Portrait: Arthur McGhee Character Portrait: Ophelia Böhm Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor

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Date: Thursday, April 11th 1912. xxx Time: 10:30 am. xxx Location: the coast of Celtic Sea
Headed to: Queenstown, Ireland xxx Arrival time: 3:30 pm. xxx Weather: partly cloudy with an abundance of stratocumulus clouds. moderate breeze at 50°C N/NW

Titanic's departure from Southhampton yesterday was quite the success! Afterwards, the massive vessel sailed to Cherbourg, France to board more passengers. Nonetheless, everything seemed to be running smoothly, not a mishap identified. Its passengers are enjoying the long voyage as well. Some even managed to make friends with those within their social heiarchy, but who knows? Maybe love will parish within this grand vessel, or rivals will be made. Sometimes fate just has to be waited upon before it is allowed to make its next move.

As first class passengers began to make their way towards the Parisian Café for an early morning coffee, most second and third class passengers aimed to put on their best fitting garments to join them, passing the bouncers who are scouting for any possible intruders. Nevertheless, people are making the most of it until their final destination to Pier 60 in New York on April 17, 1912.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Evan Tuck

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The accommodations for second class weren't nearly as opulent or refined as those in the first class, but they were still a far cry from the sleeping arrangements the third class had to deal with. Evan was lucky to only have one other man to share accommodations with. As far as he could tell, the slightly portly man, was a business man and kept to himself. This was fortunate as Evan preferred peace and quiet. He was grateful to not be saddled with an exuberant or chatty man for the duration of his journey.

It was a bit of surprise when he had bumped into one of his more recent clients upon one of the ship decks. The man, Mr. Ernhardt, had evaded paying full taxes for years and had hired Evan to make the problems disappear in court. It had been after the divorce was finalized. Evan had taken all of his rage and funneled it into Mr. Ernhardt's case which yielded surprising results. Mr. Ernhardt ended up not only winning his case, but receiving a rather large sum of money as compensation for the hassle of it all.

"Old boy!" he had greeted Evan with his usual raucous grin. "What the blazes are you doing upon the Titanic?"

They had spent the evening catching up over glasses of brandy, and smoking cigars. The night ended with Mr. Ernhardt requesting that Evan join him for breakfast to discuss a potential business venture.

That was how Evan found himself within the first class dining, a guest of Mr. Ernhardt.

A very young looking chap had entered into the dining room and it caught Evan's attention. The young boy looked excited and separated from the side of what was assumed to be an older brother. Evan eyed the boy as he weaved through the room, bumping into people, and apologizing with a dip of his head.

Evan's brooding eyes narrowed as he saw just what this boy was doing.

"Excuse me for a moment Mr. Ernhardt." Evan stood from his seat and Mr. Ernhardt waved him off.

Evan moved between tables and people until he had reached the boy who was whistling rather gaily. He quickly grabbed the boy's elbow and steered him over to a corner of the room.

"Rather bold to be nicking the first class our first morning upon the ship." His voice was low and cold and he had the boy cornered. "Miss." He hissed quietly.

Evan had a sharp eye, and he was more than familiar with how women held themselves, as well as their bodies, to know that this was not some youthful pick pocket. "Give me one good reason to not report you right now." His voice was low and dangerous. He was a good bit taller than her.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor

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Daisy McGregor

After a good night's rest, Daisy got up bright and early. She was always a morning person. In fact, she got up so early, the sun was barely rising over the horizon. She was quiet as a mouse to not wake up her roommate. In the past she had shared sleeping quarters with her sister and other young women when space was minimal. She was even use to 'roughing it' in the wild with a simple tent with her own father. She wanted to laugh thinking about what others would have thought about that. They would have been horrified. Some of the places she'd been to, she couldn't even imagine some men doing. After getting dressed, she went about exploring the ship more, at least to the places she was allowed. She wasn't bound to go where only 1st class people went. As curious and as adventurous Daisy was, she was no rule breaker.

Outside she watched as the ship sailed through the Celtic Sea towards Ireland. Daisy couldn't wait until they arrived. She did travel to Ireland once, but never been to Queensland. The people there she recalled were a happy bunch. She had traveled there with her father when she was twelve. She recalled how it was spring than and it rained almost the whole time. Daisy loved it. It wasn't called the Emerald Isle for nothing. It make sense for it to rain there. Now that she thought about it, most of the places she had been to rained a lot, so she suppose she was use to it by now. Unlike most of the British she met in England, she had a healthy tan with freckles over her body thanks to being outdoors a lot. Plush she was used to warmer weather. She was still trying to get use to the cooler weather here.

As she explored the ship, she carried a journal and several fountain pens, writing down things she saw and experienced so far. One could never be too careful. The quiet of the morning was very peaceful. She lounged about outside writing until more people started coming outside. Wondering what time it was, Daisy decided to return to her quarters. Her room size suited her and she didn't mind sharing it. The bed was actually one of the more comfortable she had ever been on, even though she was aware first class would be getting the best. Taking her journal, she put it up in her suit case before deciding she needed some breakfast. She saw that it was already 10:30 am.

Leaving her room, she started heading towards the place where she could get some food. She ended up passing the Parisian Cafe and shook her head, spotting those who were obviously not first class. She mingled enough with the 1st class to distinguish those who weren't. It was all about the stance. It helped she was very observant about things. She started walking pass when she heard her name.

"Daisy McGregor? Are my eyes deceiving me?" said a female voice, one that Daisy recognized immediately.

An easy going smile on her face, she turned to see a robust middle age woman with black hair with streaks of grey in it. Her name was Elizabeth Hurst and she was the widow of Major General Hurst. Daisy met the 1st class Officer and his wife and family when she married Michael. The military became a second family for Daisy and the Hurst's were one of her favorite people to converse with. When Michael died, the Hurst's were there for her along with her other family members. The general passed way a month before her own father died.

"Hello Eliza, it's been awhile." smiled Daisy, comfortable calling Mrs. Hurst by her first name.

The two women hugged each other in greeting.

"Well my girl, I can see you are doing well. How have you been?"

"It hasn't been easy, but I am doing better."

Mrs. Hurst nodded in understanding, knowing about her father's passing.

"Have you ate yet?"

"Not yet, but I was about to."

"Join me than so I don't have to eat alone or with someone who I know will bore me to death." Mrs. Hurst said, whispering to the last part, which earned a laugh out of Daisy.

"If you insist, but are you sure you want to be seen with a second class citizen?" Daisy smiled.

"Oh pish posh! You don't dare call yourself that."

"But it is true."

Mrs. Hurst shook her head and pulled the younger woman into the line for the Parisian Cafe. Seeing how Daisy was a guest, she was allowed in and soon found herself talking with Mrs. Hurst. While talking though, she noticed one person bumping into people before this person was caught by a tall man and pulled to a corner of the room. She raised an eyebrow. Looked like thieves were on the boat and this didn't surprise her in the least.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck

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                        It really wasn’t all it was hyped up to be. From the way the people were lined up hoping to enter, one would think the cafe had chairs made from solid gold. That was hardly the case. He sat in one of the wicker chairs pulled into a table set against the wall, one with only three chairs, though it wasn’t as though he were really expecting company. He ordered a small breakfast, and began formulating plans. What would his cover be? Unemployed heir or a working man, humble and appreciative of his fortune? Either one had shown good results, albeit amongst different crowds. Which was why he was observing. Taking in all the information he could with visuals and limited hearing with keen eyes, hardly missing a thing. This was the main reason he’d wanted to dine among the first class. Reconnaissance. He would generate a cover and plan of action specially tailored for a specific type of mark; the perfect thing they’d dreamed of. He was hoping to cast a wide net this time, however, seeing as how he didn’t have much time to observe one specific person and create something specific for that one individual. He’d have to work with generalizations, which was much harder, but he hardly balked at the challenge. He’d just been brought a coffee, which he was sipping at slowly, when a distinct voice caught his attention.

                        He heard ‘Stas!’, which was a surprise, and then ‘Mr. Kensington’, which sent a cold chill down his spine. He recognized that name. He recognized that name because it was him. Well, in a sense. It was an old version of him, one that he’d shed and killed long ago. And that was a name he’d hoped he’d never have to hear again.

                        But then there was the person who had called that name standing before him, just as beautiful as he remembered, and it felt to him like a dream. Fleeting, ephemeral. Entirely unreal. And yet, there she was, commenting on his (very fake) childhood dreams. He was speechless for a moment, something very rare indeed. She asked politely after a rather embarrassing moment of silence, if she could sit, and again it took him a second to process what she’d said.

                        ”Of course,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper and his eyes wide and unbelieving. Then, ”Of course,” louder, more forcefully, more a statement than a question. He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of his stupor, and stood quickly.

                        ”How rude of me,” he said, chuckling lightly, as he moved to pull the chair out for her. ”Please, sit.”

                        Sure she was securely seated, Stas took his seat once more and quickly waved down a waiter to offer a coffee for Charlotte. He cleared his throat, unsure of what, exactly to say. This was unneeded, to say the least, and the unexpected appearance of an old victim was never pleasant. But she was more than just an old victim. She was... Well, that was a story for another day.

                        He settled, eventually, on smiling softly. ”Miss Whittaker. I simply cannot express how much of a pleasure it is to see you.” He paused, laughed lightly, bashfully, under his breath. Then added, as though with hesitation, ”You look just as beautiful as I imagined you’d be.”

                        He retained his composure, for the most part. But the rat inside him, the scurrying cowardice, was scrambling to seek an escape. This was unexpected, unplanned for. He felt trapped in an undesirable situation. He would need to find a way to escape without seeming rude, without appearing as though he were eager to leave her company. Unfortunately, it seemed that would prove a very difficult task indeed.


                        Well. It was fun while it lasted. Why was picking pockets in a crowd in a city so much easier? Syllia suspected it had something to do with the escape routes. Even if someone noticed their money missing, there wasn’t a thing they could do about it if the suspected thief was already twenty minutes gone. But it was different on the ship. She couldn’t just disappear. She was relying solely on the nimbleness of her fingers and her quick step. But she thought, at the very least, it would take them a lot longer to figure it out than this.

                        One second she was pleased and whistling, on her way back to her brother with a sizeable loot. The next, she was being gripped firmly by the elbow and dragged to a far corner of the room. She stumbled along with the man pulling her, nearly tripping once or twice. The grip, she thought, was unnaturally strong for one of the older men she’d picked from. She looked up at the stern face of her captor, and saw someone she didn’t recognize at all. She hadn’t stolen anything from him. Aw, hell. Why did people always go around getting involved in business that wasn’t theirs? Would it have really killed him to let her slip off? She chided herself for letting herself be caught regardless, even if it wasn’t by one of her actual victims. She’d have to work on her subtlety, she supposed.

                        He finally stopped his unrelenting gait, and Syllia took the chance to yank her arm from his grip. ”Unhand me, ya brute!” she spat, scowling. Then, as if all of a sudden remembering the role she was meant to play, she sniffed and lifted her chin high, then lowered her voice pitch slightly in order to emulate a more masculine sound. ”You ought to learn not to be so terribly rude. That’s no way to treat a first class passenger.” She attempted to emulate her brother’s speech patterns, stopped stringing words and syllables together and cutting off ends of words. More formal, more stiff. It was terribly uncomfortable.

                        Fortunately, it didn’t seem like she’d have to keep up the charade for long. She was ready to fight his accusation of thievery, but she knew it was all over the moment he called her Miss. As Stas would say, her cover was blown. She froze for a moment, like a deer in headlights, trying to figure her way out of that mess.

                        She channeled her brother for a moment, trying to pick up on small details. There must have been a reason he dragged her to seclusion to accuse her of theft. Because he wanted to give her a chance to explain herself? Unlikely, given the dark, dangerous tone of his voice. Perhaps he wasn’t sure he was right. She took a quick glance behind him at all the true first class passengers. The man had wealth, but he wasn’t dressed as finely, she could tell. So he was second class. Accusing her falsely would be terribly embarrassing, she knew, so that was a potential reason. Perhaps he wanted something in return for not turning her in. That didn’t seem like the likeliest option, to tell the truth, given his harsh and unforgiving glare. Damn. When it all came down to it, she wasn’t her brother after all. Stas would have compiled all the observations she’d made and turned it into a quick and astute decision. One that would get him out of the mess. But she lacked that final step. She wasn’t great at reading people, truth be told, other than their tells at the poker table. Ultimately, she relied on her wits. It always came down to that. And if all else failed, talk fast enough and offer a decision that she’d make for them and leave them confused enough to give her just enough time to slip away. She went with that plan.

                        After a second or two had passed since his question, her wide-eyed look fell away in favor of a grin. She spoke in an imitation of a group of Pikeys she’d met once, those hustling gods. Not a single person understood half of what they said, and yet, somehow, they always managed to walk away with someone’s money. So she spoke fast, very fast. ”Turn me in and ya just make more problems for yourself, really, mate. Don’t want to do that, do ya, eh? I mean, who knows what’ll happen. They give me the boot, sure, but what’s your fate in all’a this? Any old bloke off the street can see you don’t belong here, not quite, just like me, so who’s to say you don’t get off just as poorly as me, ya see what’am saying?” She paused, very shortly, to give him a questioning look. Christ, she hoped this would work. ”Listen, tell ya what,” she said, digging around in her pocket for, and surfacing with, a deck of cards held together by a metal clip. ”I’ll play ya for it, how’s that sound? I win, ya let me go, no harm no foul. You win, well.” She shrugged, nonchalantly. ”Then you go ahead and turn me in, and I’ll even throw the wallets in for ya, and whatcha do withem isn’t my business.” She stared up at him with a wicked grin on her face, confidence, just like Stas taught her. If this failed she’d be screwed, but she’d be damned if she’d show any fear.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Domonic Drew Castell Character Portrait: Caspian Mar Grey Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Ophelia Böhm Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor

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______________Juliette Le Sauvage______________


    Dɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✧ #ea98c6|| Tʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ Cᴏʟᴏʀ ✧ dim gray
    xxxxxTʜᴇᴍᴇ ✧ Suite Bergamasque|| Oᴜᴛғɪᴛ ✧ X
_____The morning sun created a gleam of light upon the English Harbor. Most chose to wave goodbye to their loved ones or to the onlookers of such an esteemed and historic occasion. Since Juliette had no family present and had been on the ship since the day before considering she was technically staff, she took the scenic route to the other side of the ship and watched the sun rise over Southhampton. She left her hair down, as she always did when she was free to move about, and inhaled the salty air. The few times she visited Spain with her parents she was completely drawn to the sea. Unfortunately Paris, her home since birth, merely has a river for her viewing pleasure and she smiled now at her good fortune of spending time floating about it for a solid length of time.
Juliette was not certain as to how long she had spent simply looking out at the view before her, but she imagined it to be quite a while since people could be seen filling out the ship and taking advantage of good weather and open decks. She sighed wistfully looking at them, knowing her brief moment of piece was spent and this place would hold no more privacy for her. She gathered up her skirts and began to make the trek back to her small quarters in Third Class, knowing by now people will be crowding the cramped hallways, when she was run upon by a very aggro servant. This man she had already been introduced to and he paused to catch his breath as if he'd been running. She reigned in her accent as she spoke knowing it was simply better for everyone involved if she didn't have to repeat herself.
"Bonjour Marc. What has you looking so flustered that you'd run all this way to find."
Forgive me Miss Juliette. But it's the other musician, ya see, 'e's sea sick. Tosser can't even hold his stomach five minutes into the damn voyage. We need a replacement at the Breakfast Cafe.You're the only other employed Pianist here and the quartet only plays for lunch and dinner."
"Merde,"she looked down at herself and was thankful she wore something semi-work appropriate. Her white shite, black ascot, and black skirts would have to do. She pulled a hair pin from her sleeve and quickly did her hair into a neat bun, with only a few strands falling but never too much to look messy.
"Very well Marc, take me to the cafe. I will just have to improvise."
Marc pulled her at a swift pace and she nearly lost her footing trying to keep up. "Please hurry we're already late!
The soon arrived to a slowly thickening crowd entering the French-style cafe and she straightened her skirts and pressed her fingers to her blushed cheeks as they'd grown pink from the exercise. She strode in quickly and smiled as she heard Marc letting out a deep exhale before he ran to inform his supervisors of her arrival no doubt. She accidently brushed passed a tall, rather rugged looking blonde gentleman and quickly apologized before continuing on. Despite there being people already in attendance, she walked straight up to the piano as if it was planned and began to play one of the many pieces she has memorized in her many years, Suite Bergamasque by Debussy, a favorite of hers. It had a lively into and was a moving piece in all. She quickly lost herself to the melody as people filed in.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Evan Tuck

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An unceremonious snort came from Evan as she reprimanded him for mistreating a first class passenger. This young woman was as far from first class as one might get. She was a pickpocket; a thief. Evan would likely have turned a blind eye if this had been a young man picking through the pockets of the wealthy, but the fact remained that it was a woman, and Evan would not have a girl ripping these people off.

He could see the wheels turning in her head as she was trying to scheme her way out of this. He saw the calculating look as she was judging her surroundings and how badly she was in over her head. He doubted there was anything she could say that would change his mind about turning her in. He had caught her red handed.

Her voice changed as she began to speak, and her accent would've been difficult to keep up with for most; Evan wasn't most. He narrowed his eyes at her as she tried to play it off as if it would only be trouble for them both and too much of a hassle to turn her in. "I don't think you realize just what I am." His voice was low and threatening. "It's my job to deal with problems, and you're no exception. It would be more work for me to release you. How could I justify letting a common thief go knowing your digging through the pockets of my wealthy clients."

This girl was desperate and scrambling. Evan rather liked watching her squirm. It would be more satisfying to humiliate her at her own silly game. He mulled it over for a moment before releasing her elbow. "Very well, if you win, you get to go free," he reiterated, "and if I win, I get to turn you over to the authority on the ship for stealing as well as sneaking into first class." His jaw was tight. He folded his arms in front of him in a very imposing manner as he waited for her to deal the cards.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Crawford, Mr. Lawrence M. Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Abia Crane Character Portrait: Evan Tuck Character Portrait: Ophelia Böhm Character Portrait: Daisy McGregor

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Daisy McGregor

Daisy gaps when she sees the gentleman and the person he grabbed start to play cards. She couldn't hear was they were saying, but it was obvious that's what they were doing. She was quickly brought out of her thoughts when Mrs. Hurst kept repeating her name.

"Daisy? Daily! Is your mind wandering again?" the older woman asked.

Embarrassed, Daisy turned around and replied, "Oh I am so sorry Eliza! What were you saying?"

"I was asking how your sister and her family were."

"Violet is fine. She and Edward are expecting another child soon. Vi is determined to give Eddie a son since she already has two girls. Her doctor thinks she is carrying twins because she's much bigger than the last few pregnancies."

This brought a huge smile to Daisy's face, but Mrs. Hurst could see the inner sadness of her friend. She knew that Daisy wanted to be a mother so badly. It was bad enough when she had the first miscarriage, it was worse when the second one was a still born. Daisy had once told her she thought there was something wrong with her especially with her twin sister being able to carry and give birth to healthy children. The matronly woman's heart went out to her, but she maintain her smile, wanting to keep the blonde in a good mood.

"Well she'll definitely have her hands full than. I am happy that Violet is taking a more hands on approach to motherhood, unlike some mothers I know."

This caused Daisy to giggle. She could not understand why some mothers did spend more time with their children. She understood the need of having nannies and governesses, but for some women to not want to be around their children was just mind boggling. Daisy herself thought of becoming a governess after Michael died, but she realized she'd have to give up her love of traveling, and she simply couldn't do that.

It was at that second, she heard a crash and turned to see a woman who was done as well as a man. The scene caused her to laugh hard, earning several gazes her way. Not wanting to embarrass her friend, she took several breaths to calm down, but couldn't quite stop the giggling. Mrs. Hurst saw the incident too and giggled as well.

"And here I thought these meals would get boring."

"I just hope they're okay. That looked nasty." commented Daisy after she managed to stop giggling.

"It certainly did."

"Well, I am done eating, so I'll go and get some fresh air. Would you like to join me?" Daisy asks as she stands up.

"Afraid not my dear, I am going to get some rest. I will see you later all right?" Mrs. Hurst said as she stood up and gave Daisy a huge.

"Take care." Daisy said before leaving the cafe.

She ended up walking outside back to her section of the ship before spotting someone else. Recognizing that it was her roommate, she approached her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Good day Miss Crane. Enjoying the view?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Juliette Le Sauvage Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck

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                        It was too surreal to be unreal, that much he knew. His brain, no matter how tired or out of sorts, would never fabricate this as some sort of dream. He was scared, and that was the only thing he knew for certain. After all, he had no way of knowing just how much she was aware of. She was playing nice now, but he’d had more than one run-in with someone who held a grudge and was more than happy to conceal it until they had him feeling secure in his safety. Did she know about him, who he was— who he really was?

                        She expressed her joy at seeing him again, and he couldn’t help but feel a remnant of fleeting affection for the smile that crossed her face. He hadn’t seen it in such a long amount of time, and yet the visual brought back such vivid memories of the same smile that he’d once been the frequent recipient of. He chuckled again, nodding his agreement, still silent and slightly disbelieving.

                        He watched her fix her coffee, and took note of how she liked it. Cream, two sugars. Who knew when it might prove to be useful information. He was used to remembering the most inconsequential of things, as it was always something that proved additionally impressive to people who weren’t used to having others remember small things about them. It was almost a subconscious reaction. Simultaneously, he marveled at the fact that he’d never had the opportunity to memorize her coffee order before. Somehow, during the duration of their entire— he wasn’t sure what to call it, actually. Relationship certainly wasn’t the right term— something, they’d never actually gone out for coffee. It was a strange sort of knowledge.

                        Still, there was an anxiety eating at the back of his mind. How much did she know for certain? Questions raced through his mind until— notes rang through the air, deliberate and melodic and utterly calming. His racing heart slowed, steadied. How calming. Why was he afraid? Lottie, harsh as it was to say, had never been the cleverest of girls. Smart, yes, but not quite sharp, not in the way he and Syl needed to be. Naive, and that’s what he had liked about her. But it was that innocence that meant she would never be privy to his true intents. He needn’t fear for his being. In fact, this was an opportunity. He was different now; meaner, smarter, more cautious. He’d never fall victim to his old mistakes. And this was a chance to prove it.

                        He was yanked from his reverie by her voice again. She was apologizing. Somehow, he couldn’t hide his shock. And he was very good at concealing his emotions, he’d learned. At least he knew now she definitely didn’t know him as anything other than ‘Stas Kensington.’ Still, his eyebrows rose, and he set down his steaming cup of coffee to place a gentle hand over hers. ”Lottie,” he said, voice soft (and only half intentionally so), ”I have never, not once, cast any blame on you for what happened then.” And then he laughed, a rueful sort, nostalgic. ”But, forget that. We’re different people now, we need not dwell in the past.”

                        ”Hm,” he said, and took a sip of his coffee, pretending to be perfectly willing to tell her. He used the time it took to swallow to come up with a sensible lie. Finance. Something in finance. ”A job, actually,” Stas said, nodding as though he himself couldn’t believe his luck. ”I’ve been offered a position at one of the better banks in the Americas, and I figured—” he shrugged, laughing, “—well, I’ve nothing to lose, have I? So here I am, on my way.” He smiled at her, took another sip of his coffee. ”But that’s plenty on me. What of you? Surely something exciting must be dragging you away from home.”


                        She didn’t appreciate his attitude, and she would certainly be eager to let him know as much if he didn’t hold her fate in his hands. Gads, Stas would be so mad if he found out she’d gotten herself snagged on the first day. He’d ice her out for a week at least, the bastard. She couldn’t afford to let this man hand her in. If she needed to, she’d bolt. She was very fast, and had lots of practice running away from law enforcement. Then she’d just have to be careful about not running into the imposing young man again. No big deal, even if it would be a bummer.

                        He kept her waiting. Threatened in a low voice, deep and threatening. She fought the urge to scoff. Stas had used that voice on her before, and it had never particularly deterred her from doing whatever rash act he tried to discourage her from. ”Well if you’re as good at weaselin’ yer way outta things as you say you are,” she mumbled as he deliberated on whether he’d play or not, under her breath, but loud enough that she was sure he’d heard, ”I’m sure you’d find some way.”

                        After what seemed like an eternity, he finally agreed to play her game, but not before reiterating her rules to her, as though he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t try to cheat her way out of it. She frowned. Syl was a lot of things— a thief, a chronic gambler, a cheater— but she wasn’t a liar. If she’d stated her terms, she’d follow through on them. But this man wouldn’t know that, would he? His opinion of her was already sullied, even though he hardly knew anything about her, didn’t even know her name. Damn rich folk. Always prancing around, acting all ‘holier than thou.’ Asses, the lot of them.

                        At least he had agreed to play. That was a weight off her shoulders. God bless those Pikeys. One of them had even stolen her first kiss (and the only thing she could really feel about it was impressed, truth be told), but she knew now she’d have to spend a lifetime thanking them and their skills of the trade. She’d study up on their accent more, too. Their incomprehensibility was, clearly, more of a talent than she’d given it credit for. And clearly this man’s mother had never warned him to be wary of street rats who carried cards with them. She ran through the games she could win. Blackjack, but even with her ability to count the cards, sometimes extraordinary luck won out in the end, and she didn’t want to risk that. Poker, but that was a little more skill-based, and she didn’t know the man well enough. Three card monte, that was the one. Infallible. No way she could lose, and it’d be over before he could blink.

                        ”Fantastic,” she said, grinning, and pulled out a chair at the nearest table to sit and pull out the cards she needed. ”We’ll play monte then. Find the Queen, Find the Painted Lady, it goes by a hundred different names. Easy enough. Look.” She held up three cards she’d taken, the queen of hearts, and the two jacks of spades and clubs. ”All you gotta do is find the queen. Follow her with your eyes.”

                        She tossed down the cards on the table to begin shifting them around. He would never find the Queen, this much she was sure of. It was all in the sleight of hand. She took the jack of spades in one hand, the queen and the other jack in the other. She made sure he knew where each card was. And as she tossed the card down, instead of tossing the lowermost card (the queen), which it appeared she had done, she threw the uppermost card (the jack). An easy switch, but an effective one. No one to date had ever discovered the trick, reason being that, if done correctly, the move was practically undetectable. He’d be following the incorrect card from the start, and a man like this (she could tell this much) would never guess. He’d trust his eyes, and that was the mistake. She finished shuffling the cards around, and pulled her hands back, held her palms out in a display that showed she’d leave everything, her fate and all, in his hands. ”So,” she said, a smile lifting the edges of her lips, ”go on. Find the painted lady.”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Evan Tuck

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Evan narrowed his eyes as the young woman finally came up with the game they would play; monte. He half expected her to pick something more sophisticated. He couldn't help but scoff internally at the brazen confidence she seemed to exude. She seemed so sure that she would win, when in fact the game was simple and easy. All Evan had to do was keep his eye trained on the queen; simple.

He should have read more into the situation. Why would she pick such a basic and simple game unless she had something hidden up her sleeve? Why would she give him the favorable odds with a game that he could easily win?

Evan wasn't thinking mostly because the atmosphere in the room divided his attention. He didn't have a chance to analyze or think critically over his options. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the face down queen card and he knew he had this game won. The only problem was that he had been unable to see the near invisible sleight of hand trick that replaced the queen with one of her jacks. There was no contest when the young woman told him to find her "painted lady", yet Evan was a fool for not picking up on the quirk of her lip that was a tell tale sign she had already cheated him out of this game.

"Your queen," he said and lifted up the face down card he had trained his eyes.

Anger flushed through his body as he was not greeted by the queen, but by the jack. He felt the indignation rise within his body like a sour bile and he turned a very sharp eye onto the young woman. "You cheated." He accused before tossing the jack violently down and grabbed the young woman by the collar of her fresh and clean linen shirt. "Not only are you a thief, but a liar and a cheat as well. I'll have you for this, you pathetic little girl." His snarl was low but still quite impressive. He didn't want to draw a great deal of attention to them as those in the first class would not appreciate such a distraction from their breakfast. Evan knew that breed of people well. He also knew the breed of the young woman he had clutched tightly in his hands. He yanked her from the Parisian cafe and through the door past the bouncer.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stas Kelevra Character Portrait: Syllia Kelevra Character Portrait: Miss Charlotte Whittaker Character Portrait: Evan Tuck

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                        Headed to her Aunt’s, was she? Stas vaguely remembered some mention of the woman from many years back, a passing comment maybe. The thought that she’d potentially only be in America for a year intrigued him. Depending on where she’d be, if— theoretically, very theoretically indeed— he were to attempt to pick his job back up where he left off, if the whole of it proved to be too difficult to accomplish over the span of the time at sea, he’d have a whole other year to finish it. And at the end of that year, she’d go back to her proper home and he’d never have to see her again. (He ignored the unsettling feeling the thought brought to the pit of stomach.)

                        Her comment on the possibilities being on the ship brought lent a similar gleam of mischief to his eye. ”What could happen indeed,” he murmured, with a slight twist of his lips. He sipped slowly at his coffee as he listened to her speak of what awaited her when she arrived at her aunt’s, her suspicions and all. A noise of disapproval originated in his throat and he set his coffee back down on its saucer with a clink. He turned again to peer into her eyes, frowning just a touch. "Certainly not. Africa’s far too dangerous for a sweet girl like you.” He smiled, eyes narrowing in endearment. ”You’ll be eaten by the lions.” A short laugh. ”No,” he said, shaking his head as he turned once more to pick up his cup. ”Tell you what, if you ever find yourself about to board a ship to Africa, drop by for a visit first. At which point—” he laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners— ”you may as well just stay until things blow ever.”

                        A joking comment, meant to be far from an earnest offer, but when he looked up into her eyes once more, he was sure to slightly drop the wide grin he’d put on his face— a small suggestion that the offer wasn’t all fun and games after all. Microexpressions. He was particularly well-versed in them by then, and found them to be the quickest path to a good con. People could never really control their brains, and they never knew what hit them.

                        So, keeping in the strain of the whole, ‘subtle indications people typically fail to consciously notice’, Stas turned away relatively quickly again, as though just a little embarrassed, and finished the last of his coffee. Again, he plastered a soft smile on his face. ”Well,” he said, “it’s been a joy to see you again, Lottie. Truly. Unfortunately—” and he stood— ”I’m afraid I’m supposed to meet an acquaintance of mine, and I may be just a touch late. Would it be terribly rude to ask that you excuse me?” He grimaced, a smiling one, an expression that indicated his regret at having to leave so soon. The waiter came by, and Stas paid him from a wallet he’d nicked the first day. ”You know what?” he said, turning back to the table. “How presumptuous would it be for me to ask you to dinner tonight, because I do believe I’m going to anyway.” He raised an eyebrow, lips quirking up to the side. “What do you say? May I drop by your cabin around seven?”


                        As it turned out, the game may have been a mistake after all. Wealthy man with starched cuffs and a stiff collar, who would have pegged him for the ‘prone to anger’ types? Not her, clearly. She didn’t even have the time to refute his claim before he was gripping the front of her shirt and yanking her towards him. She winced, less from the pain and more from the shock. ”Ouch,” she hissed, ready to look back up and glare defiantly, but again was never given the chance.

                        ”Let go of me,” she said forcefully, but in a low voice, also careful to not draw attention to the two of them. Attention was never good. For a thief, having marks know their face was one of the worst things that could happen. ”I already told you, I’m no liar! Check for yourself, mate.” She clawed at his arm and dug her heels into the ground, but was unable to stop their steady progress towards the exit. ”S’hardly my fault you didn’t get the outcome you wanted, but look— the queen’s there! On the left!” Her verbal and physical struggle still yielded nothing. Damn, why did she have to be so small? And to top things off, this man was clearly no idle person, she could tell by the feel of his straining forearm under her grasping hands. Shit. She just had the worst luck, didn’t she?

                        In anger, she pursed her lips and growled deep in her throat. ”You got a helluva lotta nerve calling me the pathetic one when you’re the man going back on his word. At least I’ve got some semblance of honor.”

                        They were out the door and past the bouncer. Her time was running out. Wildly, she glanced around, searching for some form of anything that could help her out of her sticky situation. Finding nothing, she glanced down. Well, she had nothing to lose. Screwing up her face, she lifted her foot and brought it back down— hard. And on the man’s foot. She was ecstatically pleased to find that it had worked. From the shock or the pain maybe (she didn’t stay to find out), his grip on the collar of her shirt loosened enough for her to pull back and slip out of his hold. Without waiting around, she turned and took off, making a dash for the nearby deck of the ship and hoping that the throngs of people would provide enough cover to keep her out of his sight.