RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

The woman began walking, the message in her posture clear. He was supposed to follow, to be brought to heel like an obedient pup, fawning over her every step. She believed that Lucien was wrapped around her finger, when in reality he simply was biding his time until he could bury his fangs in her neck.

“Neither sent me, princess. I simply saw you stepping away from the party and thought you may appreciate an escort. Not that you require one, of course.” Lucien’s tone was one of humility, of deference, with just a hint of something above his station.

It wouldn’t do to imply that she needed the protection in her own manor. But it certainly made a convenient excuse.

“Will you be returning to the party later? Or retiring early?” All polite questions, Lucien’s posture straight and formal, hands clasped behind his back, his face a smooth mask as he followed the princess and her maid.
 
“Ah, yes that’s the one.” Nessa said, with an annoyed cluck of her tongue. What the hell was Caleb’s plan anyway? Man was more than lucky that the ceremony meant there were so many new faces about. Still, now wasn't really the time to worry about those things.

“Do you happen to know where he went? I’ve got a message I need to get to him.” Nessa said. She paused a moment before smiling again. “And maybe we’ll have time to catch up after that.”
 
Sam shook her head. She hadn’t seen the one eyed footman since he left the kitchen, over an hour ago.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

It was about time she went back to the kitchen. The young elf girl was about to turn around when a woman, slick blond hair and silver wings behind her back marched towards them. Sam didn’t know which of the twins it was, if it was Danielle or Gabrielle.

“My lady.” She curtsied, with her head lowered.

“Tell the cook we’re out of canapes.” She said dismissively, turning her attention to the maid by Sam’s side. Something about her seemed to annoy the noblewoman; perhaps it was the pointy ears or the lack of wings behind her back. Maybe it was both.

“I didn’t know they were hiring elves at the Floating Isles.”

***

Her maids knew at this point that she appreciated an escort. The door was pushed open and the princess stepped into her room, wondering if he’d be bold enough to step in before the door was closed.

In a corner, her tub was filled with an opaque white liquid, and the smell of roses filled the room. The maid who accompanied her began unlacing the back of her dress, loosening her corset.

“I’m not in the mood for parties. By the time I get back, my dear husband will likely be too drunk to stand.” She sighed, having seen this side of him multiple times throughout the years. If by a miracle he managed to consummate the marriage, it would fade out of his memory anyway.

“I don’t remember ever seeing you here.” She said, stepping into the tub still wearing her undergarment. The maid who had prepared the bath began removing the pins off her red curls. “How long have you been a guard for the duke of Goswick?”

***

If Caleb’s skin was lighter, perhaps the blush of his cheeks would have given it away. He smiled at Alys, raising the rolled up carpet over his shoulder.

“I was waiting for the right moment.” He said, making his way towards a cabinet, in hopes it’d be empty enough to hide a body. He had to move some things out of the way but after some struggle, he managed to close the do
or with the carpet inside.
 
“Good day” Nessa said, following Sam’s curtsy with a shallower one of her own, partially due to how the woman had said elves as if the word itself had a stench and partially because she would like to keep her knife hidden beneath the dress’s skirt. A look at her face was all Nessa really needed to know she was one of the ones they needed to kill, she looked a mirror’s image to on the Princess that Lucien had followed, which Nessa might have called unfortunate luck if she hadn’t decided that she hated the woman within six words of meeting her.

Nessa kept her head dipped in some showing of reverence for the twin, though she also smiled, something sharper than she had given Sam.

“They do, madam.” Nessa answered, as if it had been a real question. “Is there something I can help you with?”
 
"Oh, don't be awful, Danielle. I think she's adorable." The second voice was almost identical to the first, as was the face and figure of the person it came from. Gabrielle stepped in gracefully, as if the world were her stage and she was, of course, the prima donna - who just had to happen to share the place with her alternate.

"I think we should get one," she added, on further inspection of the little elf girl servant, apparently liking whatever it was she saw. "We could dress her up in funny little hats. She'd be a riot at parties. You, girl, who owns you? I want to buy you."
 
Alys acknowledged his response with a nod - and nothing more. Couldn't even look at him. After all, he didn't seem all too bothered by the fact that there were only four more nobles left and that despite his time advantage, the best he could manage was clean up after someone else. She hoped it'd been worth it.

Lifting her skirt, she secured the dagger back into its sheath, then reached for the bottle of elven wine and her half-filled glass. "There was a maid who saw us together," she said, lifting the glass to her lips to drink the rest of the deep red liquid. "She might be back soon."

Leaving the empty glass behind, her feet began to move towards the door. "I'll figure out a way to get to the others. I'm sure the three of you can handle the princess."

With the bottle of wine in hand, a possible cause for the maroon splotch on her dress, Alys left the room and began her descent. She avoided the sound of music and laughter and went deeper, an idea brewing in her mind. She'd make the wine more than just an excuse, but a weapon as well.
 
Sam didn’t like how that conversation was going. Spending most of her time hiding in the basement, it was her first time being addressed by the duke’s daughters and finding out how unpleasant they were.

“What are you waiting for?” Danielle spat out, and after a moment of hesitation, the sixteen year old shot her childhood friend an apologetic look and rushed through the hallway, to deliver the message about the canapes.

Danielle, who was previously annoyed, softened her expression at the arrival of her twin sister. The girl was adorable indeed, or at least she would be if she hadn’t those giant ears, too big for her angelic face. She crossed her arms, waiting for the girl to answer her sister’s question.
 
Ah, there was the twin. Nessa raised her head as the woman mentioned buying her so she could have her wear funny hats at parties. Sam scurried off, which was good, that girl shouldn’t be here. Nessa quirked her head to one side as she looked up at the newly arrived twin, as if uncertain about the offer. Well, it very much wasn’t an offer was it?

“Do you wish to buy out my contract then?” Nessa said, not certain if cities outside of Costa bothered with service contracts. Still, she was also fairly certain the two thought she was some form of slave.

Was Sam one?

She felt irritation prickling in the tips of her ears, but she kept her expression neutral. Instead, Nessa tipped forward as if joining into a little conspiracy. “Are you making a better offer then? Ah—” She feigned a furtive glance down the hallway. “Should take this someplace private I think, missus.”
 
"Who is it, anyway? Is it Willem? I bet it's Willem, everyone knows he has... odd tastes. He had that changeling a few years back and he kept it." Gabrielle's eyes raked over the elf girl, like claws. "I bet he's going for another one. She's a bit young, but..." There was a shrug of one pretty shoulder, and a rolling of her equally pretty eyes.

"Well, come on, then, I'm sure we can find a room and send someone to get him-or-whoever. Ooh, I bet he'll be hopping mad if we do buy her, won't that be funny? Then we can invite him to the parties." She giggled, delighted at whatever scenario was unfolding, and turning to beckon her sister down the hallway, evidently assuming that something like a mere servant girl would come without being called, if she knew what was good for her.
 
Danielle didn’t even like to think about changelings, those deceitful little bastards. Oftentimes born out of wedlock, with few fairies having the courage and audacity to raise them as their own.

“I’ll go get him. I’ll meet you at papa’s study.” The blonde said with a giggle, sounding the exact same as her sister’s.
 
Would that part be a problem? Nessa stared at the second twin’s back as she took her leave to find Willem. A third person would complicate this, but did she really care? Willem was doubtlessly one of them so was he really any more innocent than the rest?

Nessa looked back to find the first twin was already halfway down the hallway. With a faint click of her tongue the young vampire hurried after the fairy before she got too far away. It seemed for the best to not mention that she had no clue who Willem was for the moment, would be easier to deal with the two twins on their own anyway.
 
Danielle could be all right, when she was following along with what Gabrielle wanted her to do. Sometimes she had ideas about doing her own thing, of course, but her twin tried to step on those before they could possibly blossom. Danielle's ideas were always terrible - never any fun or excitement.

Gabrielle watched her sister retreat, off to find an unfortunate man, who probably wouldn't be an issue, and led the way to one of the small rooms nearby without comment, quite obviously expecting the little elven servant girl to follow her - and, when she stopped outside the door and gave the idiot a significant look, quite obviously expecting that the door be opened as well.

A good servant would have gotten there first and anticipated the need, but she supposed the girl was only an elf. They couldn't expect too much of her, but hopefully she could at least look decorative properly. A bit like a hideous vase. No one would like looking at her - the odd Willem aside - but she would be a conversation piece, and everyone knew there wasn't going to be anything interesting to talk about for a while, not until the next wedding.

"Well? What's taking you so long?"
 
The servant’s corridor would have been cramped enough under normal circumstances, but with the bulk of the Fir Bolg ahead of him Argent could hardly see around Ciaran to watch anything other than his back as they left Alys and the Captain behind. The stone around them muffled the party below to near silence, the rooms nearby offering slightly louder echoes to evidence smaller groups who had broken away from the main celebration. It was uncomfortable, thoughArgent wasn’t sure if his uneasiness with the hall was due to its nature or to the nature of their their purpose.



He certainly didn’t think that a guard would be expected in the secreted passages.



Almost as though the thought had summoned an intrusion a sliver of light broke around Ciaran’s shadow in tandem with words unmuted by an opened door. With a wordless curse Argent grabbed the Master Gunner’s coat and pulled him hard as he darted down the nearest branching corridor, a deviation from their goal but likely a better choice than discovery.
 
The group carried on down the other hallway, leaving Argent and Ciaran undiscovered for the time being, although heading down a different corridor than they had originally planned. The door to one of the rooms at the end was slightly ajar, with the filter of voices within.

"What a tedious farce. I hate weddings."

"Well, your highness, you're probably going to have to have one before the decade's out."

"Don't remind me. Maybe I'll just go start another war. There has to be someone we can conquer that'll keep things entertaining."

"Not much resistance out there, but I suppose we could always manufacture some. It would be fairly easy to stage a Fir Bolg revolution, if you wanted to go that route, but I don't know that there are enough of them to be worth it. Might be good to pare the elves down a bit. Divide them against themselves and take out some faction - it doesn't really matter which one, as long as there are less of them when it's over and you can reasonably declare a victory."

"See, this is why you're on my staff. Always a plan."

"Are we going to war, then?" Slightly slurred, and met with a pause, as if this speaker were not really part of the conversation.

"Well, you aren't, Cormac. You'll presumably be too busy fucking Alasdair's wee sister."

"Him and everyone else." A clink, as of glasses. "Sisters."

"His is dead."

"Of course she is. We were all at her funeral, weren't we? But that was a long time ago and today we're at your wedding, so try not to drink so much that people won't believe that you couldn't consummate the damned thing, will you?"
 
Nessa did not immediately spring forward to pull the door open for the twin, as it took her a few moments to even register that it was something she should be doing for the other woman. She did stare back at the noblelady, as if waiting for direction, or maybe just to stare.

What would the Goddess make of this — of her thoughts. Of her —

Nessa ran a tongue across a fang as she stepped forward to push the door open for the woman. She wasn’t scared, her heart wasn’t fast enough to be scared. Nessa’s lips parted as she released a breath, and stepped back so the woman could step inside first. Would the goddess listen to her apology?

“After you.” Nessa said, her smile not showing teeth.

It really was a shame she wasn’t scared.
 
Oh, good, the servant had figured out how to serve. No... that was being uncharitable. She was only an elf, after all. One must make allowances - but at the same time, she should be doing a job she was capable of doing well, not just any job someone handed her. She could probably handle wearing little hats, though, with some training.

Gabrielle swept into the room as if expecting an audience, but of course the audience wasn't here yet. She'd just have to figure out how to arrange things for when they were. Of course, her sister would come through the room with Willem - she'd have to coach the elf girl about opening the door promptly this time - Gabrielle would be sitting down, because being seated was a sign of power, and also because the sorts of shoes one wore to a wedding were not comfortable and her feet hurt.

Danielle would need to sit when she arrived, of course, but Willem would have to stand, like the servant.

"Hm. Move that chair over to the other side of the tea table." It was an overstuffed armchair, but the girl was a servant, and that was what she was there for. She would figure it out. "And, oh, I need a book or something to be looking at when they arrive. There has to be something here - something elegant, not trashy or anything."
 
The door closed, quietly, with only a final click as the handle turned into place. It wasn’t a large room, but it was more opulent than her mother’s entire house. The woman was alive, she had worked so hard to ignore it, the sound of a beating heart, but to indulge now was… like feeling the scab you were picking at peeling from your skin. Pleasant, for a moment, before the blood began to leak.

Nessa stared at the chair which she was careful taller than, perhaps she was contemplating how to move it, perhaps she never spared a thought for the chair at all. She placed a hand on its back, and pulled it across the floor as if it weighed not much more than a pillow. She moved it to the place that was asked, and then she looked at the woman. Nessa wasn’t certain what she wanted really, maybe catch a flash of uncertainty in the haughty woman’s eyes? A twitch of unease. They were never scared when they should be, they never knew to run when they could, and Nessa hated her.

But, she was a person, even she couldn’t disagree with Emryk about that. And the Goddess said — she always said but where were the signs? Why did she never — Nessa stepped around the chair and walked towards the fairy.

“Could the Goddess forgive me, do you think?” The words slipped out, as Nessa stopped. Near to the fairy and the bookshelf, and her body blocking the way to the door. She didn’t reach for her knife, the back of her throat felt like sandpaper, and she didn’t need it.
 
Oh, good, she'd moved the chair. Yes, that was much better. Now Gabrielle just needed a book for a prop, and - why was this little servant girl over here, did she think she could help? Could elves even read? Well, undoubtedly if they had someone to train them, but why would anyone bother.

At least she spoke nicely, someone had trained her for that. Gabrielle turned, looking at the pathetic creature, all worried about doing the right thing when all she had to do was follow orders properly. Well, she was probably worried about that properly bit - she was only an elf, after all - but Gabrielle had always had a kind heart. She gave the girl a little smile, which might have been interpreted as encouraging, in the right light."

"Oh, of course I can. You're expected to make a few mistakes, after all."
 
She could have laughed or screamed, but she smiled. It wasn’t kind, but nothing in this room was kind, it was just an attempt. Nessa was still again as the words mulled about in her head. She still wasn’t scared, was she? But maybe that was wrong, maybe a woman like her didn’t even know that she should be scared. Perhaps though, she was right about forgiveness. There couldn’t be justice without forgiveness, could there?

There were teeth in Nessa's smile, but maybe under a certain light there was a little something like relief there too. She took a step towards the fairy, so light that the floorboards barely knew that they should groan, and almost a sway as if Nessa moved with a dance only she really knew. One step, two step, three step, and then she was there, staring up at the taller fae.

There were little things she could have asked, little revenges against those who weren’t the fae but in Nessa’s mind were the same as she was. It was so simple, like plucking up an apple before a merchant’s eyes, just because he knew she was poor. Nessa wrapped an arm around the woman’s back as if this were a hug, and yanked her close. Her lips parted, and her fangs found the flesh of the fae’s neck.

Skin so delicate, it had never know the scratch of rough woven sheets, and blood so sweet and warm that the girl could have cried from joy.
 
Subterfuge had never quite been a skill in Ciarán’s wheelhouse, but just as he’d done countless times before he’d have to make do. He hadn’t the frame for infiltration, too broad and shiny. They'd evaded capture for now - he had Argent to thank for that.

He didn't take offense to being pulled as he had been by the elf. In fact, he was somewhat surprised at how he managed to be moved with such ease. The corridor was quiet now, still enough for words to be heard near its end. Ciaran fixed his collar and silently approached the source of the voices - a trio of men, toasting to what exactly? Violence and tyranny.

Ciaran held the hilt of his sword as he crept closer. He had few qualms killing men such as this, especially when they threatened the lives of his kin folk - but again, not butchering the groom and his friends would make for an easier escape.

The officer touched Argent's shoulder lightly to get his attention then whispered, his voice a soft airy tone devoid of the base usually bringing life to his words. "Around or through them?"
 
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