Igraine — Roleplayer Guild

"Non ma chère, I am fine, just fine... Stop fretting over me... Here... " Madeleine might have laughed to lighten the dark, intractable look that sat on Édouard's face, but she was confounded by the seemingly unshakeable frown. The stilettos were already sheathed and, as the young man holstered the pistol, he allowed Madeleine to help him shrug back into the purple velvet jacket.

"You shouldn't be so angry with him," she continued blithely, her thick Creole accent a warm breeze between them as she walked back about the young man to settle his lapels just so, pulling his long, thick braids from beneath its folds, "He is what he is, and always was, and will not change! Danger follows in his wake like a cur, and he does love to keep that beast on a loose chain!"

"I'm not angry, Madeleine. Not with him, at least." Édouard said simply, almost too quickly for the truthfulness he never meant to reveal. The young man affixed the cuffs of his jacket before his eyes returned to Madeleine's face, the smallest attempt at something not a frown trying to emerge on his full lips.

Madeleine studied that face for a long moment, midnight-colored eyes narrowed in thought before she caught her breath with a sudden realization. "Oh no," she whispered, the backs of her fingers softly grazing the young man's smooth cheeks. "You've got it bad, dearest heart... "

That hint of a smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by confusion, denial - and then simple irritation as Édouard shook his head swiftly and, with a roll of his grey eyes, caught Madeleine's fingers in his hand to kiss them softly. "I'm in no mood for anymore idiocy tonight," he replied in French before wrapping one arm about her waist protectively, making their way to descend the stairs of the mezzanine. "Let's get you home, Madeleine. We've cuckolded your good husband enough for one evening, wouldn't you say?"

The young woman really did laugh then, smacking Édouard's arm playfully and letting the import of her previous words fall to the side, when it became obvious there would be no further headway made. Stubborn, impossibly stubborn, the single most bullheaded creature ever born, truly...

Édouard's eyes lingered over the dead and dying as the pair hit the main floor. Most of those still able to walk had made their way, quick or slow, from the main floor beneath the watchful, weary eyes of the garrison soldiers and threat of long muskets. The golden Nicolette shone like the sun herself in such a dingy, dreary place as she moved with admirable efficiency among the fallen, though the young man could not begin to embrace the emotion that drove her to do as she did, to deal succor among the very men they'd only just cut down.

But she was a grown woman, and a consummate professional, and would do as she would - though watching her break that fool's nose in a split-second brought the first hint of a genuinely wicked little smile to his face since the arrival of Commander Murray's men. Jax had somehow managed to find his way to her as well, a pained smile on his face though whether for some injury he couldn't see, or the likely insane amount of effort he must have to put into being vaguely "charming" before a woman like the First Mate, Édouard couldn't begin to guess.

No matter though, the night was still far too young, and there was yet gleek to be played, and business to be planned. He stepped lithely over bodies, limbs and puddles of blood, lifting Madeleine easily as if she were the finest of gentlewomen, to Nicolette.

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp?" he said in his perfect, Parisian French, lifting the brim of his hat to meet her large pale eyes with his own steady, grey-eyed gaze. "If you would be so kind, when you are finished here putting back together all the bits and pieces some of us worked so hard to separate from their owners?"

"This is Madame Madeleine Williams who, with her good husband, runs the Parakeet tavern. Our good Captain Silver Fish does not know it yet, but I would suggest it might be a very wise notion to meet up at the Parakeet this night. Why, there are still cards to be played after all, and no small number of worthy matters yet to discuss."

Édouard's gaze fell on Jax with an almost longsuffering smile, though he still spoke to the First Mate - this time in English laced with that heavily-accented Creole. "Bring the helmsman too if you like. He should have an earful, as well as a bellyful of rum and a night full of losing all his coin at gleek." The young man laughed warmly, and then bowed, the jaunty ostrich feather in his hat floating in his wake before he turned, his arm still protectively about Madeleine's waist. He strode the length of the tavern to the door, stopping only long enough behind Captain Lightfoot to whisper softly over his shoulder, into his ear.

"Silver Fish?" he said softly as the man stood over the faceless body. Édouard nodded appreciatively when he noted the reale placed for the man's strange loa, but said nothing more on the matter when he caught the man's copper gaze. "The Parakeet tonight," Édouard continued quickly, the fingers of his free hand clutched into a sudden, white-knuckled fist at his side. Traitorous fingers suddenly ached to tend to the rising reddish-purple bruise on Lightfoot's face and that... That simply would not do.

"Invitations have been made," he added, nodding toward the First Mate and the helmsman, "And I do still look forward to seeing her wipe the floor with you in cards." The young man smiled, nodding slowly before he turned with Madeleine once more.

"Your Antonia will be there as well," Édouard added over his shoulder as he made his way past Commander Murray without a single glance - wisely - in the man's direction.

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