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    1. mnkee 8 yrs ago

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@Lady Amalthea
Poor Milli. I am wanting Fyror to rescue her from Elizabeth's torture more than ever now.
@Lady Amalthea
Post #2 is up! Forgive me for the length of it. I had a lot to say for some reason. Lol.
Gentleman Fyror has entered!




Location: Gates of Jericho, London --> Inn near Hyde Park



Fyror looked out the carriage window as the massive barricade of Jericho surrounding the city of London came into view. It was certainly an imposing sight to behold after the relatively serene ride through the countryside. He couldn’t help but feel that it made the walls encompassing the Colchester Garrison seem so puny in comparison. Fyror’s attention was drawn away from the window when he heard his sister speaking.

“Finally, we have arrived,” Genevieve remarked, her voice a mixture of relief and excitement. Fyror smiled softly at her, ever glad to see her happy. The images and sounds of his nightmare two nights prior had loosened their hold on him the moment he saw his sister alive and well. Seeing her cheerfulness now and throughout the long journey from Colchester to London had put him that much more at ease.

His gaze moved to his mother. She seemed a bit weary from travel but otherwise reflected a similar eagerness. He admittedly never fully grasped why they so enjoyed going to social events such as those held at Almacks. Perhaps he was just biased due to the demeaning manner in which people often treated him. He was treated as if he was broken and only gained his position in the infantry out of sympathy, or they have this preconceived notion that he is a bad guy that picked a fight with the wrong person. He hoped that in time people would see him in a different light. In the meantime, he would continue to treat them with respect and protect them with his life, whether or not they truly deserved it.

Fyror’s gaze finally drifted to his younger brother Leon. He didn’t seem nearly as excited as their mother and sister did, and Fyror wouldn’t fault him for it. Fyror recalled witnessing firsthand how mothers were quick to shove their daughters in Leon’s direction. His brother seemed to take it all in stride though. In fact, Fyror is convinced that Leon secretly enjoys all of the attention. Fyror, on the other hand, had no such problems with insistent females.

The carriage soon came to a stop, as they had reached the gates of Jericho. Fyror could hear their carriage driver talking with one of the men manning the gates. One of the men then looked into the carriage, quickly doing a once over of the occupants. Unsurprisingly, he eyed Fyror longer than the others before eventually permitting them through the gate. Fyror couldn’t help but think that they probably would have been through the gate quicker if his father was with them. Colonel Theodore would likely arrive later today, along with some of the other officers from Colchester Garrison. He had business to attend to that delayed his departure.

It was a relatively short ride from the gates to the inn in which they had two room reservations for. It was a higher quality, and thus more expensive, inn located near Hyde Park. When the carriage came to a stop, Fyror and Leon exited first. They then lent a hand to help their mother and sister out of the carriage.

“My lord, you received a letter at the gates,” the carriage driver stated as he handed a scroll of paper to Fyror.

“Thank you, sir,” Fyror replied. He put the letter in his pocket for the time being and then started pulling luggage from the carriage.

“My lord, there’s really no need for you to do that! I can handle this for you!” he heard a woman exclaim from behind him before appearing by his side. He quickly realized that she must work for the inn as she scrambled to grab the bags from him. Her eyes widened the slightest when she looked over at him, and wariness quickly filled her persona. He felt a desire to reassure her surge within him.

“It is really no bother, miss. I am happy to be of aid,” Fyror stated politely. A kind smile lit his features, making him appear less intimidating. He helped her pull the luggage from the carriage and carry it inside. After checking in, Leon also came to aid them. Fyror could see the woman’s demeanor slowly change from wariness to surprise and gratitude. The sight of peers aiding a middle class worker certainly garnered strange looks from others, but Leon and Fyror couldn’t care less. It took little time to get the luggage into the two rooms they had reserved, and soon enough Leon and Fyror were relaxing in their room.

“Keep being as chivalrous as you are now and the ladies will be flocking to you in no time,” Leon remarked with a smirk on his face.

“I doubt that,” Fyror replied. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the letter he had received upon arrival. He opened it up and began reading it as he relaxed back in his chair. It welcomed them to the city and stated that those hosting the event at Almacks were looking forward to their attendance. His brows furrowed as he read further. The letter stated the hosts took into account his limited field of vision and had extra precautions in place to prevent him from being inconvenienced. What did these people think he was, completely incapacitated?!

“What does it say?” Leon asked, walking over to Fyror. Fyror just shook his head in response and started to fold up the letter as he was uninterested in sharing it. To Fyror’s annoyance, his brother reached over and stole the letter from him.

“Leon!” Fyror objected, but his brother just ignored him. Leon’s brows rose as he read through the letter, and by the time he had finished he was laughing. “I am glad you find it funny,” Fyror retorted, scowling at him.

“No, that was most certainly rude. The thing that I find funny is that despite having one less eye to work with, you are still a better fighter than many of the soldiers in our regiment,” Leon replied as he tried to control his laughter. “These people do not know you like I do. They have not seen you in action. One day you will save their lives, and they will have no choice but to think completely different of you.”

“One can only hope,” Fyror muttered.
@Lauder
I can only imagine his reaction to seeing Jeanette there! Ahahaha! XD
@Lady Amalthea
I can't decide, so I thought I would get your opinion. I figured that Fyror's sister, mother, and brother would come along with him, but I am unsure whether or not his father would come along too. He is the colonel of his regiment after all, so he is probably a busy man. It would prove interesting though for the colonel to show up at the gathering considering Gerard's dislike of him in all.
@Lady Amalthea
Oh my lord. If this is how most girls during the 1800s acted when militia officers arrive, then I consider Fyror very lucky to have a scar that keeps people from approaching him. XD
@Lady Amalthea

*facepalms* I didn't think about that little factor. I will fix that right now. Thanks for pointing it out.
My first post is up! Woohoo! :3




Location: Colchester Garrison in Colchester (Essex county), England



March 19, 1823

A strangled cry left Fyror’s lips as he woke with a start. Panic constricted his chest, making his breaths come out in short quick breaths, as his eyes darted around frantically. His surroundings were enveloped in darkness, and for a painstaking moment he believed that those images and sounds that had overtaken his mind weren’t simply dreams but memories. He found some relief when his good right eye slowly adjusted to the darkness. He was soon able to make out the shapes of the furniture in his room and could see a sliver of light peeking through his closed curtains. He pushed the tangled mess of sheets off of himself and basically stumbled out of bed. A draft of cool air bit at his sweaty chest as he crossed the room, his eye never leaving that sliver of light. They say when you die you see a light at the end of a dark tunnel. Well, that’s what it felt like to him. That light was either his hope or his demise.

Fyror reached out to draw back the rough material of the curtains. He felt the air whoosh out of him in relief when he could see clearly from his one good eye. It was still early in the morning, as the sun was working its way up into the sky and the garrison was just beginning to stir with life. He rested his head against the cool window pane as his mind drifted back to what he now knew was a nightmare. He had been fully blinded and accidentally killed his dear sister Genevieve. He looked down at his hands, an image of them drenched in her blood flashing through his head. A shiver went down his spine, and it wasn’t at all from the cold.

He pulled himself away from the window and tried to push the torturous images and sounds from his head. He began to get ready for the day, first fixing his bed then washing from the basin. He changed into his infantry uniform: red coat with gold details, white trousers, boots, and hat. He grabbed his belt, which already had his sheathed katana, single shot pistol, and canteen attached to it, off of his bedside table. He pocketed his wallet and pocket watch before exiting his quarters.

The smell of food being cooked wafted from the mess room, and Fyror could hear the stirring of people. There were a few officers already congregating outside the mess room and in the anteroom. “Mornin’ gentlemen,” he greeted them each in turn.

Fyror found a seat by the window where he could drink in the warm sunlight and contemplate what the weekend would bring. He admittedly wasn’t looking forward to the few days it would take to travel down to London to spend time at Almacks. He felt that he had the respect of his fellow soldiers, but the other peers and gentry were much more judgmental. He stood out like a sore thumb thanks to his mangled face. However, despite how he felt, he would go for the sake of his mother and sister and to maintain a positive image of his regiment. Ultimately, he was determined to make this a good day.
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