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Note: We are NOT on cases so your counter is from your last IC post. The Glimmeric: Inside of the Glimmeric things were abuzz with preparations for the evening was neigh upon them and their usual patrons would be making their way from the docks and their homes to the establishment. Or would they? During the time when afternoon passed to evening the constables had shown up on the street but Michael had stepped in to intervene. He used his good standing and his word to keep them from bothering Francis and the others. From the way Sally Ann had to be escorted back into the building earlier he feared she was in no condition to speak with the law. He had lead them over to the doctors and had the body taken care of; in other words put down so it could not rise again. The body was left with the doctor from that point on to do with as he saw fit. The constables figured that meant a potters field but Michael knew better but he did not wish to think of it.
The streets were all but bare that evening. Only a few locals or other shop owners were out and about and that seemed to be only to check to see if any others had had business that day. It seemed that word was getting around about the murders and much of London's Peers and Gentry were packing up to leave for their homes out in the country as quick as they could. This would mean a massive financial hit to the city itself. Summer was the time for income for all venues. Butchers, dress makers, even brothels. Warmer days, and so forth was when the majority of the money came in for the year. With them leaving and the evening paper stating that Parliament was now canceled until further notice, what would the middle and lower class of London do to survive?
Stage Coach Route Towards Manchester: As the pair reached St. Albans it was clear they were not the only ones leaving London. Many a coach from various families with homes to the north were parked outside the various inns that dotted the small hamlet. They must have left at the break of dawn to get there and travel at normal speeds without pressing their carriages too much. Yet they were not traveling at night. That seemed to be a fools errand. And with the Soulless plaguing London they dare not be out in the moonlight. What horrors were the shadows hiding? No, it was better to have a warm bed, a fully belly, and a crowd around themselves that were armed than to be in a carriage that could break down or flip at a moments notice.
Whether they wanted to stop or not, it didn't matter. They had to. It was time to change the horses again and check the carriage. At the stage coach post, there were fresh horses waiting as per usual and other carriages that were being changed out. It seemed a harsh rain had set in north of them and carriages traveling from London north bound now needed to change out to even sturdier carriages.
"Aye, the roads towards Nottingham are horrid and even further north. I left Nottingham this morning just as it hit. It had come in from Manchester. Three roads are washed out between Manchester and Nottingham now," one bloke stated to another as he hopped off a carriage that had obvious sustained some damage.
"Must just be sitting mate. Roads be wet towards Manchester from here," another chimed in. Turning he stepped over to the carriage that the two heroes were riding in. "What's yer next post m'lords?" he asked so he could know carriage route they would need to be set up on.
A Funeral: As the fire burns around the corpse, the smoke begins to clear but the flames are growing higher. It is becoming alarming at this point for the wood is nearly spent as is the body but the closer things come to being nothing but ash the stronger the fire becomes until it is a blazing white flame and there is no smoke or scent in the air. Yet the heat radiating from it is beyond intense, it will cause anyone within twenty feet of the pyre to rush back to keep from being burned, even within a radius of fifty feet it is nearly intolerable, within a 100 feet is it the hottest of summer days though the sun has set.
This is the stuff of myth's and legends. There had been tale of some, burned after death, that this would occur. Yet there was no proof. Such things were left to superstition even in this day and time with the Soulless roaming about. What exactly was the myth? That a body consumed by fire that burns as white as the stars is the purest of Souls. It is a near anointing by God himself among the church, among other religions something very similar, among the scientific even it was said that the body was clean of any tainting sch as disease. Had such a thing happened within the walls of London? Not one report ever and it had been since before Jericho's Barricade that any had spoken of such an occurrence.
Russian Imperial Tent City: Within the tent Adam stayed near the Grand Duchess, praying until he fell asleep half curled between Elizaveta and Myska, his resting against her arm as he slumbered. Sister Sophia did nothing to move the child, letting him rest. He was causing no harm and seemed to have some sort of attachment to the future Czarina. She remained vigilant, sending everyone else out of the tent. She could handle the fires and water. With just the three of them, and pet, within the tent she sat herself down and returned to her prayer. All was calm within the luxurious tent. Too calm.
Outside however it was not. Many of the circus performers and workers were worried. Crowds normally started gathering by now to see the side shows before the main act. Yet not had arrived as the sun set. Tickets were already sold but food, drink, trinkets, palm readings, and more were a hefty portion of what the circus took in for a day. There was one though. A small plain carriage arrived at the outskirts of the tent city and an old stern looking nun emerged from the carriage. "Saints be praised, that carriage is about a smooth as trying to swallow glass," Sister Lazarus stated to herself as she shut the carriage door roughly. "Hey, someone want to tell me where I can find Sister Mary Hale? Red head, young."
Millicent Wyndham
Location: Nottingham, England
The sounds of the tavern surrounded her as she sat in a dark corner, shrouded in shadows. She had not wanted to enter the establishment, she had not wanted to enter the carriage, she had not wanted to leave London. Yet what choice did she have at this point? None in her mind. So she sat frozen as her fiance left two guards with her. She could see him from where she was seated. His attention was elsewhere and that she was grateful for. The shadows though were not for her they were for him. Battered and bruised to a point now that even a high collared coat and scarf, full gloves, and makeup could not hide. Darkness was the only thing that kept the world for seeing what she had been turned into, reduce to at this point.
A warm trickle of liquid she could feel pooling at the corner of her lips. Why bother even wiping the blood away at this point? How could this have happened? How far things had gotten out of control so quickly. It was all a blur to her. The first time she had fought with everything in her. Then she felt broken. The second time she hadn't even moved. This seemed to anger him even more. No cries, no screams in pain or agony. Just blankness in her eyes no matter what he did. Not a single yelp had even come from her when she was forced to hurry from the carriage into the tavern and shoved into the shadows. Nothing seemed to rise her pride anymore. It was just a vast disconnect and emptiness. Not even solace that she was saving her remaining sister from this fate could be found.
"Milli, come here dear," Benedict called to his daughter. Millicent came into his make shift office and looked over to her father. She did not blink or even seem to move. "Now you must stop this melancholy." His voice was was firm but understanding.
He hadn't had the strength to tell Millicent in person that her mother had died and had sent word via one of the captains of his spice ships to tell her. Yet when he received word back from her trainers months later that Milli had slipped into a deep depression he had set off at once to be by his daughters side. He told none of the staff where he was going, just that he was having to deal with work and would be gone for some months. This was not uncommon due to his position and his business. With Catherine passing away many of the servants thought it was a good idea if he did leave the house and try to put his mind elsewhere.
He set sail the next morning and arrived in China months later. It was worse than he had feared. She was like a ghost of herself and even now being addressed by her father she still said nothing but at least now she was walking about when called, not having to be directed. "I miss her as well little one."
Milli still said nothing. Rising from his seat he lead his daughter over to a chair and sat her down before kneeling in front of her. "And I am mad as hell. At her, at the world. That she would be taken from us. You know what? That's okay." Millicent blinked a bit. Reaching over he placed his hand over hers and gave it a loving squeeze. "But what isn't okay is to lose ourselves because of what we have lost. Child listen to me. Life is loss. No matter what we do, no matter how good we are, no matter how hard we love, we will have loss in our lives. It will hurt but we keep going. For us and for them. What is life without a fight? Without something to fight for we have no purpose. A fight for our home, for love, for our very sanity. The day we stop fighting we might as well die for then we are not living anymore. So fight my child. Fight this emptiness you feel, fight to speak, fight to cry, fight to love. Your mother fought until the end, she would want you fight. Fight for her until you can fight for yourself. And once you can, never let that go. Please Milli, my dearest, fight so when you return home you can put the rest of England to shame," he said in a quivering voice.
Her father had always been loving towards Millicent. Strong and wanting her to build her own strength. He cared not for the ton and their ways. He just wanted his daughter to be happy, whatever that was. Right then he just wanted to see life in her eyes once again. A few rare tears rolled down his cheeks. Seemed he needed to see his daughter as much as she needed to see him. He had to fight for her because he had forgotten how to fight for himself when Catherine was gone. Now he had a purpose, now he needed Millicent to have one as well.
"Okay papa...." Millicent remembered that day as if it was yesterday. Her fathers words had reached her and she had managed to eek out a simple two word reply. It was months before she was fully recovered and back into her training but once she was she had found herself. Her fire for life again. When she returned to England she had stopped fighting for herself and fought for her sisters. Now one was gone and the other was in London. She needed to fight for herself once again. Reaching up she slowly wiped the blood that trickled down from her lips.
Elizaveta Romanova
Location: Russian Imperial Tent City: Her Tent
No, this is not nothingness. This is far beyond the abyss. It is something less and more than nothingness. How long has passed? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? An eternity? Wait, I see something. A light! Praise be to God for coming. Yes that much be him. His light cuts through the blackness like Moses cutting the Red Seas. Such divinity. I follow the light. Brighter and brighter it becomes and then the heat from it strikes me.
It is so hot but I have to keep moving even as I feel as if my flesh will burn from my bones. It matters not. This must be what it means to shed ones mortal coil. I have no fear, this does no startle me. Until it passes me and continues on back into the darkness from where I came. What is happening? Was this a test that I did not pass? Was my faith not strong enough? My soul not pure enough? Had that creature tainted my soul so that I may only be burned to ash and not given eternal rest? Am I plagued to be here forever? No, that is not it. Another light. So much softer. I follow to it. It becomes warmer and brighter. It is so familiar. I step into it hopeful that I have finally found where I am to be. A twitch of the finger came from the pale and still hand. And another until a soft coo like a bird broke weakly from the lips of Elizaveta. Adam shot straight up out of his slumber and looked wide down as the Grand Duchess looked to be awaking. Sister Sophia stood up quickly, her chair toppling over as she rushed to the tent's flap and called out. "She's waking!"
Her long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings before her lids lifted and she looked around slowly. Her vision was so blurry, it was hard to make out shapes or figures. Yet touch was with her and she felt the warm fur and warm tongue of Myska licking her hand.
"Что случилось?" she asked in a weak voice that was rough, sounding as if she had spent far too long singing in under the tent without water to quench the parched desert in her throat.
"Мы думали, что потеряли тебя," Sister Sophia said as she rushed back to her side and knelt down at the side of the make shift bed. Adam looked over towards Sophia confused. She sighed a bit, of course the boy didn't speak Russian. "She was just wondering what happened was all," she assured him.
Reaching up she rubbed her eyes, trying to bring them into focus before finally being able to see. She looked tired but she forced a smile as Adam came into view.
"Well hello there little one." Sally Kirkpatrick
Location: Dress Maker: Annan, Scotland
The Lady Kirkpatrick's voice cut through the clamoring and bustling in the shop. Standing up slowly with the aide of her cane she stepped over towards Maeve and gave her a once over.
"You lot have sufficiently turned this girl into a pin cushion. She will most likely need a weeks recovery from yer poking and prodding after a fitting such as this." Shaking her head a bit she tapped the tip of her cane on the ground a few times as if to accentuate her point.
"Next fitting I shall call on my personal seamstress to attend to you. Such as it was she was not up for the journey here as she is currently occupied with with the task of fitting my nephews for the Season. She will not prick a single pin into you," the woman added before turning her attention to the staff at hand. There was money to exchange, deliveries to arrange, and items to pack for Maeve before they left town in the morning.
"Yes, the coat she needs now, evening gown and robe for tonight, a change for the morning. Pack thusly and hand to Rory outside at once. No, minus the coat, she might have need of it. That hat and yes, those gloves. Riticule as well. Well don't doddle child, move yer arse," she said sternly before looking back over towards Maeve.
"I could use a well done meal at this point, yet I fear we will have to settle with whatever vile is being served at the tavern this evening. Tis only for a night, tomorrow we will make our way home." Stepping over towards the door she stopped in front of it and glanced back over towards Maeve. It was obvious by the clearing of her throat she was waiting on the woman to get the door for her.
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