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 Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 2:09 pm
 « V e l v e t - L i e s » in « S c a r ℓ e t » ￡ ε t t ε r s
● ● ● xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Rixaka the F allen; the M astermind behind the M askxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• May 17th 2009; the date of inspiration and creationxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Role P lay; A lternate Reality-----------------● ● ● / O p e n / C l o s e d / U n d e r - C o n s t r u c t i o n / A c c e p t i n g / F u l l / R e s e r v a t i o n sOOC ICCPL a y o u t & P l o t Copyright of: Rixaka the Fallen ©
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 2:11 pm
« S e t t i n g »
● ● ● xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• England; L ondonxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• September 1st 2007; the date of the beginningxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Weather; Sunny / Breezy / Morningxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Now; 9:30am-----------------● ● ● / C a s t l e /
Available to Welcomed Nobles and Royalty (including the Spy who is undercover or any other Royal Body Guard). Closed to the Public unless otherwise specified.
/ M a i n - s t r e e t s /
Open to anyone.
/ L o c a l - C a f e /
One to anyone.
/ R e b e l - H e a d - Q u a r t e r s [H.Q.] /
Open only to the Rebel Party.
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 2:12 pm
« S t o r y / P l o t »
● ● ● xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Background; K ings and Queens still reign over the modernizing world though in a much more comfortable way. Nobility is still a trend in that of England. A monarchy rules over the humble people of the British Isle, a King holds the crown upon his head and rules over the land with a fair and just hand. There is democracy in this era though it is not how we know it today. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• December 31st 1999; A t the turn of the century, a most impressive gala was held, the transition of the twentieth into the twenty-first century. It was magnificent. King Henry held the throne with his powerful grip. No one knew how he was able to acquire the throne so easily but little complained for he was a good and just king.
As the clock struck midnight a terrible thing had occurred. The lights of the city vanished, all at once. The castle, pitch black as it was without modern lights, flew into chaos. A short five minutes later the lights flickered on to reveal a hideous sight. King Henry MURDERED. His body thrust upon his gold throne, a brilliant bloody spear racked through his chest, penetrating his still heart. The guests cried and screamed in agony at this unsettling chain of events. It was a horrible way to enter the new century.
With bloody fingers was a message written above the tilted King’s crown titled; Scarlet Letter.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Scarlet; S carlet was the only member of the royal crown was to hold the title. She was only ten at the time. She was the single heir to the good King’s throne, the last bloodline descendant of Henry. Many people believed the message to be about the soon to be ascending Queen.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Extra; My dear little Scarlet letter…
Every year, after the horrific event, a single Scarlet Letter is sent out to those of nobility from all over England. These little letters contain the words of an invitation to the greatest Masquerade Gala known around the world in remembrance of the dreadful death of King Henry the Good. The Scarlet letter was sent out every first day of December with the Gala’s date set in red, the last night of the year. For nine years these letters were sent, and sent again to the nobility of the land. However in the short coming year of 2009, Princess Scarlet, a young lady of nineteen, was to be crowned on the night of her father's untimely death, to usher in a new age of peace from the nine years of uneasy ruling by her cousin Christophe.
The year will be come to known as the ‘Year of Scarlet’.
And so our tale unfolds with the single waxing stamp of the royal seal. The date is fast approaching, but before we can understand the future, we must dive into the past, the last two years before the beginning of the Year of Scarlet.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Plot; F rom the very moment of King Henry's death people have become weary of the fact that it may happen again. No one is exactly certain who murdered the King and because of this they fear he or she will strike again on the night of Scarlet's coronation, the very same night her father was murdered.
It is your job, citizen, noble or rebel, to uncover the truth. It maybe by your own means, from gathering information by force or doing nothing at all. Many people will be trying to topple the crown, to chop off the head of the last royal bloodline and bring in a new era of more suitable democracy. Will you protect the crown or rise against it? Loyalty, it is such a fickle thing.
This is for you to decide, what lies in the future and what is buried in the past.-----------------● ● ● S t o r y / P l o t Copyright of: Rixaka the Fallen ©
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 4:05 pm
« R e s e r v a t i o n s»
● ● ● R e s e r v a t i o n - F o r u m ● Position: ● Title: ● Character Name: First, Last● Age: ● Gender: ● Username: [imgleft]Enter 200 x 200 image here[/imgleft]●[u]Position:[/u] [size=11][/size]
●[u]Title:[/u] [size=11][/size]
●[u]Character Name:[/u] [size=11]First, Last[/size]
●[u]Age:[/u] [size=11][/size]
●[u]Gender:[/u] [size=11][/size]
●[u]Username:[/u] [size=11][/size] ---------------------------● ● ●
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 4:10 pm
« C h a r a c t e r s (#1) »
● ● ● / R o y a l - B l o o d /
/ N o b l e - B l o o d / xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Royalty; ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ----►The Current King◄● Character Name: Frederick Jonathan Grace● Age: Twenty-six● Gender: Male● Username: The Mad Magic Muffin Man● Status: //Open//Taken//Reserved ----►The Princess◄● Title: The Only Heir● Character Name: Scarlet, Grace● Age: 19● Gender: Female● Username: Rixaka the Fallen● Status: //Open//Taken//Reserved ----►The Cousin◄● Position: The Cousin● Title: The Quirky Cousin● Character Name: Violet Cornelia McAlhaney● Age: Seventeen● Gender: Female● Username: girlwiththetude● Status: //Reserved//Taken//Openxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Nobles; ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ----►The Sporty◄● Position: ● Title: ● Character Name: First, Last● Age: ● Gender: ● Username: ● Status: //Taken//Open//Reserved ----►The Musician◄● Position: Noble● Title: The Musician● Character Name: Nicole Vivienne DeLencret● Age: Twenty-five● Gender: Female● Username: Harlequin of Chaos● Status: //Reserved//Open//Taken ----►The Joker◄● Position: Nobel● Title: The Joker● Character Name: Christopher, Shay, Rosebaum● Age: 26● Gender: Male● Username: Kuat Al-Kulul● Status: //Open//Taken//Reserved
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 4:20 pm
« C h a r a c t e r s (#2) »
● ● ● / R e b e l l i o u s - B l o o d /
/ C i t i z e n - B l o o d / xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Rebles;● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ----►The Fearless Captain◄● Position: Rebel● Title: The Fearless Captain● Character Name: David Westman● Age: Male● Gender: 29● Username: Boadecia● Status: //Reserved//Taken//Open----►The Brains◄● Position: Rebel● Title: The Brains● Character Name: Bran, Conall, Gilroy● Age: 42● Gender: Male● Username: Telemachn● Status: //Open//Taken//Reserved ----►The Brawn◄● Position: Rebel● Title: The Brawn● Character Name: Camilla, Sue, Tourney● Age: 28● Gender: Female● Username: Telemachn● Status: //Open//Taken//Reserved ----►The Spy◄● Position: Rebel● Title: Spy● Character Name: August Lancaster● Age: 22● Gender: Male● Username: The Mad Magic Muffin Man● Status: // Taken//Reserved//Open----►The Rebellious◄● Position: Rebels● Title: The Rebellious● Character Name: Edith Chan● Age: 21● Gender: Female● Username: lee_shin_hye● Status: //Reserved//Taken//Openxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx• Citizens; ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ----►The Crafty Magician◄● Position: Citizen● Title:The Crafty Magician● Character Name: Magnus Von Helfeim● Age: 29● Gender: Male● Username: balgeron● Status: //Reserved//Taken//Open----►The Hired Painter◄● Position: Citizen● Title:The Hired Painter● Character Name: Rosetta Alexis Bundrick● Age: 19● Gender: Female● Username: girlwiththetude● Status: //Reserved//Taken//Open-----------------● ● ●
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 4:24 pm
« P r o f i l e - O u t l i n e »
● ● ● Send All Character Profiles or Outlines to Rixaka the Fallen. The title of the Pm should be the position of the character with " Velvet Lies" at the end.  ►Title◄/ N a m e / ---------● First, Middle, Last/ N i c k n a m e s / ---------● Nicknames/ B i r t h d a y / ---------● day / month / year/ A g e / ---------● Age/ G e n d e r / ---------● Male/Female/ P e r s o n a l i t y / ---------● Character's personality/ B i o g r a p h y / ---------● Character's History/ O t h e r - I n f o r m a t i o n / ---------● Other/ M y - F a v o u r i t e - C o l o u r / ---------● Speaking / thinking colour/ S o n g / ---------● Song, Author/ M y - P u p p e t e e r / ---------● Username [imgright]http://image here[/imgright]
[size=18][color=#d11f2b]►[/color]Title[color=#d11f2b]◄[/color][/size]
/ [size=13][color=#d11f2b]N a m e[/color][/size] /
[color=white]---------[/color]● [size=11]First, Middle, Last[/size]
/ [size=13]N i c k n a m e s[/size] /
[color=white]---------[/color][color=#d11f2b]●[/color] [size=11]Nicknames[/size]
/ [color=#d11f2b][size=13]B i r t h d a y[/size][/color] /
[color=white]---------[/color]● [size=11]day / month / year[/size]
/ [size=13]A g e[/size] /
[color=white]---------[/color][color=#d11f2b]●[/color] [size=11]Age[/size]
/ [color=#d11f2b][size=13]G e n d e r[/size][/color] /
[color=white]---------[/color]● [size=11]Male/Female[/size]
/ [size=13]P e r s o n a l i t y[/size] /
[color=white]---------[/color][color=#d11f2b]●[/color] [size=11]Character's personality[/size]
/ [color=#d11f2b][size=13]B i o g r a p h y[/size][/color] /
[color=white]---------[/color]● [size=11]Character's History[/size]
/ [size=13]O t h e r - I n f o r m a t i o n[/size] /
[color=white]---------[/color][color=#d11f2b]●[/color] [size=11]Other[/size]
/ [color=#d11f2b][size=13] M y - F a v o u r i t e - C o l o u r[/size][/color] /
[color=white]---------[/color]● [size=11]Speaking colour[/size]
/ [size=13]S o n g[/size] /
[color=white]---------[/color][color=#d11f2b]●[/color] [size=11]Song, Author[/size]
/ [color=#d11f2b][size=13] M y - P u p p e t e e r[/size][/color] /
[color=white]---------[/color]● [size=11]Username[/size]
[size=0](Do not Delete this part. Three images bellow should be photographs.)[/size]
[img]http://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l207/Marta_Ch/100x100.png[/img] [img]http://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l207/Marta_Ch/100x100.png[/img] [img]http://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l207/Marta_Ch/100x100.png[/img] ● ● ●
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Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 4:25 pm
« V e l v e t - L i e s » in « S c a r ℓ e t » ￡ ε t t ε r s
R e s e r v e d
L a y o u t Copyright of: Rixaka the Fallen ©
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 8:18 pm
  The little shop door jingled merrily as the older gentleman stepped inside. The tiny drugstore smelled heavily of herbs and antiseptic. "Excuse me, but I was looking for a natural remedy for cold sores...?" The older man's voice trailed off quizzically. The strawberry blonde haired lump that slouched forward on the counter lifted one hand and gestured wearily to a large shelf. When the gentleman brought his selection up to be paid for, the lump didn't raise his head even once, yet the transaction was completed with astonishing dexterity and accuracy. After the customer had hurried out the front door, Bran lifted his head just enough to glare at the beautiful weather shining through his shop windows. "Even the bloody sun wants me dead. This goddamn light will burn my eyes right out of their sockets!" Squinting his green eyes, Bran pulled a small, red tin from the breast pocket of his white pharmacist's coat and stuck a pinch dry herbs in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and stared at the clock on the wall. He might get a visit today. Should he get a visit? Did visiting essentially happen because it should? Or perhaps because it also might not? "To hell with visitors!" Bran pulled a pair of medical scissors from another pocket and dropped his head back to the counter. His upraised arm clicked the scissors rhythmically. If a visit were to happen with just my bloody body present, would that become a case of 'shouldn't'? Thinking better of it, Bran stabbed the scissors into the countertop and pushed himself upright. Sparing a moment to curse colorfully at the sunlight, Bran disappeared into the back room. He reappeared minutes later, laden with a mortar, pestle, and an assortment of beakers. He dumped his burden with a graceless clatter on the counter. Using his foot, Bran pulled a box from under the sink behind him filled with various plants and vials. He pulled some materials from the box and balanced them in one hand while he yanked the scissors from the counter, using them to flip through his thick notebook. "I haven't tried that one yet...." He slid his green eyes back to the ingredients in his hand. "I'm out of Origanum marjorana, s**t...." Annoyed, he threw the ingredients back in the box, and stalked out from behind the counter. He rattled through the bottles on the wall. The sudden sound of the shop bell forced him to turn. Bloody customers, can't let me well enough alone!The intruder turned out to be a tiny, wrinkled hag clutching an equally wrinkled cat. Bran groaned inwardly. Damn Mrs. Higgins and her bloody cat! Her crackly voice sawed at his already frayed nerves, "Gilly I need more of that special medicine of yours for Pudding here!" Bran glared at Pudding. Why won't this wretched creature die? He sighed impatiently, "I've told you before, Mrs. Higgins, I'm no vet! Take that thing to someone else's shop!" The ancient lady gave him a toothless grin. "Now, Gilly, no one makes medicine as good as you and you know it!" She clutched at his arm, big crocodile tears welling up in her pale eyes. "Please, Gilly. If Pudding doesn't take your special pills, I'll end up all alone." Bran groaned, loudly this time. "Fine." He pulled his sleeve out of her claws and rummaged behind the counter. For a moment he seriously considered slipping a little rat poison in with the other pills. He held up the bag of medicine. "Here, just take your damn pills and get out of my shop!" Mrs. Higgins snatched up the bag. The tinkling bell signaled her hobbling retreat. Bran slumped back down onto his counter. Beakers clinked together as he shoved them out of his way. Pulling out his red tin, Bran took another pinch of dried herbs. He eyed the sun shining into his shop morosely. Damn sun, it's trying to get into my brain! Grabbing up his discarded scissors, he flung them at the spot of sunshine creeping along his shop floor. The scissors quivered in the wooden floorboards, pinning the sun in place. Bran glanced back at the clock. I wonder if I'll be visited?
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Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:34 pm
♫● ♪● ♪●Doesn't anyone want to t a k e, one more s h o t at me? Go ahead the gun is loaded and the bullets are free.xxxxxxxxxxxxx
▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxScarlet Gracexxxxxxxxxx------------------------------------------------------------------------
The light peeked through the drawn, creme curtains and into the overly large bedroom. The patterns cast across the light carpet and onto the end of Scarlet's bed rippling and curving patterns into the sheets. She was sleeping peacefully in her bed, hidden by an assortment of drapes and canopy curtains. Sighing something sweet, she rolled over in her bed to lay on her stomach scrunching up a pillow under her arms, against her chest. She was having a wonderful dream, one that she wouldn't necessarily remember...
Three knocks, slow and somewhat timid, rapped on her French, double doors. "M-m-m-iss S-S-Scarlet... it's time to get up," the meek maid's voice came from behind the wood.
Scarlet muttered unhappily, and pulled the covers over her head, hiding in the cool darkness. "Go away..." she mumbled angrily from below her hiding place. "I'm asleep." Scarlet then moved to shift in her bed and curl up to the top against the head board.
"M-m-miss... it's noon... you have lessons-" the poor maid was interrupted by a sour response from Scarlet. "I'm sleeping! I don't want to..." from her grumble, the maid sped off quickly, there was on doubt that she was going to get help to drag the princess out of bed.
Having returned to the peace and quiet of her room, Scarlet unraveled the blankets from over her head and sighed rather loudly. "Man... they keep pestering me... day in and day out." With her short reprieve came a rather hard sounding knock on the door. "Up and at'em ma'am or I'll bust down these doors of yours."
Scarlet sat up quickly and pressed herself against the bed frame. "You wouldn't!" she cried, yanking the covers to cover her chest.
"Oh yeah!?" mused the male from behind the wooden curtain. "Just watch me." With that he backed up, the sound of his foot steps echoing in the hallway. Three heavy foot steps. Grieg busted into the unlocked bedroom, pushing both doors hard enough to slam against the walls. "Grieg you jerk!" Scarlet yelled, chucking a pillow from her bed at his head. It his him dead in the face and fell off to the ground.
"Oh yeah? Well come on your majesty. You have lessons, don't you?" Grieg hummed cheerfully; he was enjoying himself thoroughly. Grieg was dressed in a blue and white uniform adorned with some red trimmings representing the British monarchy. Grieg, like all traditional guards would have, held a sword to his side though it was hardly ever used. He looked strong, his short blond hair shaping his chiseled jaw and laughing eyes.
Scarlet blushed a deep red and pulled up the covers, showing Grieg nothing of her light night gown. "Okay, okay, I get it! I give up, just get out of my room!"
- - -
After a shower, followed by drying hair and picking some comfortable clothes, Scarlet set out to the study room, the one which her previous father had cherished so much (if not the same as his only daughter). ♦▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ 'Cause everybody t a k e s and everybody s t e a l s... xxxxxxxxxand everybody’s been kicked by other heels...♪ Theme by: Rixaka the Fallen♣
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Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2009 8:11 am
  e d i t h * c h a n the rebellious one maverick
"And in 1999, during the last night of that fateful year..." A man in his mid-thirties was in the front of the lecture hall, speaking enthusiastically about the history of England, and the most recent events relating to the 'Scarlet Letter'. A girl sitting at the back row folded her arms and leaned back in the chair, her expression not betraying the different surges of emotions in her. As the lecturer moved on to other topics, her dark eyes seemed to become duller, and slowly, she started shoving her notebook back into her messenger bag. As usual, nothing was written on it.
Edith had no need for notes. She remembers everything the lecturers say, even the useless bits of information known as jokes, gossips and small talk. She gets slightly irritated by such things, but usually lets things slide. She had taken up history in university on a whim, and was regretting it now. The things that were taught were knowledge that she had already stored in her brain. Though Edith could easily excel in her studies, she made sure never to score too high, nor too low. Just average grades, so that she would not stand out.
As it was, she already stood out in a sea of people. Being a Chinese in England these days was not uncommon, but it was certainly not a norm, hence Edith had to get used to second glances, and curious stares. Her skin color and facial features matched with a lanky body that could easily pass her off as a boy. That was something that Edith did not mind, and she loved dressing up in androgynous outfits. For today, she was dressed in a man's dress shirt in white, and wore slightly baggy pants held up by a faded brown belt. With her dusty green messenger bag slung over her shoulders, and hands stuck in her pockets, Edith looked more like a little boy in a man's clothing than a girl.
She stepped out of the lecture hall, not bothered by the dirty looks given by others. If the class was boring, just skip it. That was Edith's philosophy in life. In fact, anything that was normal was equated to the concept of 'boring'. She was a non-conformist, and never quite understood the idea of 'trends'. It reminded her of lemmings jumping off the cliff in groups.
"73 Duke Street, Mayfair." Edith mumbled to herself, walking briskly on the streets. It was still early, and most of the people were already at work or at school, hence it was not very crowded - a great relief for Edith. She did not like dealing with crowds in the morning. Here it is. The girl stood outside her destination and glanced around, before pushing the door. A jingle of the shop bell made her presence known.
"Gilly." She stated blandly, letting her voice echo in the shop.
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Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2009 2:38 pm
A puff of smoke and some startled gasps, shortly changed into a white dove and oo's and ah's with but the wave of a hand and waggling of some fingers. As the sounds of clapping hands an awe inspired murmurings subsided the man dressed in black the group's center reached his right hand into his right pocket, as his left wrist came up before his eyes. The sleeve of the black jacket pulled back slightly revealing the gold Rolex that adorned that wrist. The man gasped and his eyes went wide in mock shock as he read the time on his watch. He removed the hand from his pocket, and with it came a deck of playing cards. He turned around, looking to each of the small group of people around him, no more than ten it seemed, and he started to shuffle the deck. "Alas my friends, time grows short and I have other obligations that I must see to so this shall be my last trick of the show." A charming smile crept across his face, perfected by years of entertaining the masses as he stopped his gaze on one of the viewers of his show.
"Miss, if you would be so kind, I require an assistant for this last piece." He held out a hand to her and after a moment of silence from the woman he took his hand and he pulled her with him to the middle of the gathering. "Thank you miss..." "Green, but you can call me Emily" she finished for him as he continued to shuffle the deck of cards. "Thank you Emily...now what I need from you is to pick a card, whichever you want." The cards folded out into a fan before him as he told her her instructions and when he was done she gingerly plucked a card from slightly to the left of the middle. He then closed his eyes as he continued to speak, "now, memorize your card, show it to everyone here, but don't tell me what it is. When you are done, place it back in the deck." The magician waited patiently until he felt the card being pushed back into the still out folded deck in his hands. Opening his eyes he resumed shuffling the deck "alright, so you remember your card?" "Yes," Emily replied. "And you have shown everyone here so they also know your card?" She nodded again along with some nods and affirmations from the group. "Very good, now then, here we go."
The cards stopped moving and he settled them on the palm of his left hand. Above the cards he moved his fingers and the card on the top of the deck started to rise as though it were on strings. He pulled the card up, before Emily's eyes and asked "was this your card?" The woman giggled a little "no, it was not the three of hearts." A perplexed look crossed the magician's face as he snatched the card out of the air and it was indeed the three of hearts. He looked to the crowd "is she telling the truth?" And they unanimously affirmed that yes, she was. "Well that's odd, I never get the wrong card...lets try this again." Placing the card back into the deck, still looking most confused he began to shuffle again. Once done he repeated the process, the deck placed on his left hand, fingers pulling off the top card by unseen strings and again Emily laughed, this time along with all the people angled to be able to see the card. "What? Wrong again?" The woman shook her head and managed to get out between chuckles "not even the right suite". Becoming most frustrated now the magician snatched the card again shoved it back into the deck and furiously began to shuffle some more. However, apparently his frustration caused a bit of a flaw in that too for when going into a bridge shuffle all the cards shot up and out of his grasp.
A click of his tongue and a tapping of his foot awaited for all the cards to slowly flutter down to the ground. The laughing of all the people gathered didn't seem to help his frustration. Once the last card finally touched down and one of the people happened to glance down he let out a rather startled gasp and went about making sure everyone looked down. What they were greeted with was two very strange phenomenon. First, as unlikely as it would seem, each and every card landed face up with their value showing. The second, and more bizarre thing was that all seventy two cards were showing the Ace of Spades. The whole crowd started murmuring to themselves as a very satisfied grin appeared upon the magician. After a minute or so Emily finally spoke up "that is incredible...that's my card...how did you do that?" With a chuckle and a flick of his wrist all seventy two cards shot back up into the palm of his hand neatly stacked. "Now now my dear...what kind of magician would I be if I revealed the secrets of my tricks?" He took a step back and dipped into a low bow, his long brown hair falling over his ace and shoulders "and now, if you folks will excuse me, I must be off" and with those words a cloud of white smoke enveloped him and when it dissipated he was gone.
Now sitting in his favorite chair in his apartment he wondered how many would find the tickets miraculously in their pockets to the next big show of Magnus Von Helfeim, Magus extraordinaire. And, of course, the ever there thought after a show of how many believed that they were just tricks, and how many started to believe that magic might be real.
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Posted: Thu Nov 26, 2009 5:58 am
"Gilly" The shop bell sang out as his peace was invaded once again. That bloody accent! Annoyed, Bran dropped his face to the counter and gestured loosely toward the scissors embedded in the floor. "Het dhuse!" His voice was muffled by the wood. Edith was NOT the visit he was hoping for. Her accent crawled up his skin like kittens, hooking their sharp, little claws into his flesh. P****d him off every time! He raised his face just enough to catch her with his emerald glare. "What the hell are you doing here? Didn't you have a class?" The open air sparkled behind her. "And quit letting in that damn sun!" Furious, Bran slid another pair of scissors from one on his many pockets and clicked them threateningly. Suddenly his gaze sharpened on her face. Without waiting for a reply for any of his answers, Bran stabbed the scissors into his counter and thumbed through the recipe book. He was almost humming smugly. "Matricaia recutita, Cebtella asiatica, Bacopa monnieri; I'm going to cure that bloody speech of yours!" Smirking in his assured victory, Bran pulled the needed ingredients out of his box and grabbed a few other things that caught his eye. Throwing them on the counter, he began crushing a few leaves with his pedstel. "Should I heat it? But maybe that would heat up her tongue?" Bran stopped to shoot her a glare. "This is your fault. Don't you have a class?" He pulled out the red tin with a shaking hand and chewed on a pinch to calm himself. He was all out of joint now that she had come along when she was a case of shouldn't! His shoulders relaxed a little. His green eyes were direct as he asked, "Have you been eating like I told you? Your face is pale. Come here and let me get a better look." He glared past her at the sun still creeping along his floor. "I need curtains! Damn that light!" He felt distracted and unfocused today. It couldn't be helped. It was one of his bad days, and Edith was just making things worse with her imperfect speech and her pale face! His attention snapped back to his recipe. "Right." He began grinding furiously again. Setting up the burner, Bran placed a beaker on the flame, barely escaping catching his sleeve on fire. His hands were quick and deft as he measured amounts without hardly looking. His green eyes scrutinized her face. "You're too damn pale! You haven't been listening at all have you?" He glare balefully at the beaker. It was taking too long! "How can you listen when your speech is funny?" Finally getting used to the fact that she was indeed here; Bran supposed that when 'shouldn't' became 'had' then it evolved into a form of 'should'. "Good morning, Edith."
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Posted: Mon Nov 30, 2009 3:00 pm
| A m i t y || S c o r r e r e |
|| t h e || M u s i c a l || N o b l e ||
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"Music speaks what cannot be expressed,
soothes the mind and gives it rest,
heals the heart and makes it whole,
flows form heaven to the soul."  The piercing voice of the violin filled the empty theater air, splitting the anxious silence and welcoming the emotions of all that were present. The sharp style of playing kept people from lulling into a soft sleep, but was calm enough, for now, for everyone to stay comfortably in their seats. For the most part, the audience seemed pretty well behaved, except for a few "Whoops!" and "Yeahs!". A moment later, the accompanying orchestra entered, making the piece more complete, yet still allowing the violin to be dominant. The music flowed wonderfully. Like my hair, the soloist smugly compared.
It was true though; his hair was a silky light blond, almost white, and reached a little past his mid-back. It looked longer than it was because of his height. Though he was not too tall, he wasn't average or below either. Many would say that he was around five-foot-ten or eleven [or around 179 centimeters]. His brown eyes were very dull and appeared gray, which complimented his light skin tone. And despite being one born in a very high social position, he didn't dress too flashily; perhaps a plain tailcoat tux with a bit of fancy jewelry that fit his color of choice.
While he played, his mind was practically clear, excluding the rare instances of a stray thought that just happened to pass through. Music was all that occupied his body and soul, and the violinist immersed himself in it. The piece, a concerto, however, was a quick piece, a little Baroque styled, and ended rather quickly. The soloist relinquished the urge to continue and bowed, listened to the crowd cheer, and left the stage with the grace that he was raised to have.
Amity Storia Scorrere was one of the few aristocrats that performed for the not-so-rich folk. There were various reasons why: he wasn't good enough for the other high-status peoples ears, he was a lover of the lower classes and a traitor of his kind, or perhaps he was just stingy and didn't want to invest in an expensive concert. Some of the rumors might hold true, or they may not; he had not confirmed or denied any of it. But nobody could refuse the fact that he was a potential virtuoso, a future master of the violin if he would only have a little more passion about it. However, the violin was just a side-job for the aristocrat. Plus, it was obvious that he didn't even need a job; his parents' assets were enough for himself and most likely his future generations to live luxuriously. Yes, Amity had a good share of England's money, no idea what he should use it on, and had little passions to chase after.
He walked along the cobbled streets with his hand clutched tightly around the handle of the violin case. It was still early and he hadn't eaten yet, but he wasn't in the mood for exploring for new delicacies either. There were many new stores and restaurants in this part of town and Amity felt bad for not noticing them until now. Maybe he should find time to get away from his servants and aristocratic duties to come and enjoy the town around him like he should've done already. But those small adventures will have to wait, his stomach comes first. He stopped by a place he dined at frequently, a place that was unknown to most but popular among those that acknowledged its existence. He didn't know if it had a name, and called it by its owner, a humble man called Mr. Carl Marin. Amity gave his greetings and ordered a simple meal of fried shrimp with tartar sauce, which he nibbled on slowly and thoughtfully. He couldn't help but feel that something was amiss in this town; then again, there always was. The noble was always one for gossip and listened closely to whoever was around for a few snippets of dramatic stories and ridiculous claims.
What will I hear today, I wonder, Amity asked to himself, readying his mind for whatever activity seems to interest him the most.
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