A Rare Occurence

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by The Mood is Write, May 21, 2016.

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  1. Brown eyes closed as the eyeshadow brush approached. She didn't need to see in a mirror to know that the usual goldenrod eye shadow was taking its usual place, and that mascara and false eyelashes would come next, followed by a little foundation to cover a bruise from 'punishment' that was already fading, and then some lipstick that would only slightly darken her naturally rosy lips.

    The brushes and smearing against her face ended, and she opened her eyes to wait for the rest. The weight on her eyelids left them half-closed as she waited for the glue to dry, and the man who kept her, Councilman Crow, slowly brushed her hair and used product to eliminate static before he tied a hairband into her hair and stripped away her nightclothes.

    She stood, arms and legs spread so he could pick her outfit, and then moved with him to allow him to dress her unimpeded. She hadn't dressed herself in several years, thanks to a 'short' break from missions.

    After a few moments, Crow stepped in front of her and cupped one breast, then sighed. "Your chest is growing too much, and you're getting too tall, but it can't be helped."

    The touch felt hot and exciting, but she knew all the man was thinking of was how tiny she had been when he first took her under wing.

    Rare curtsied as he took his hand away, and remained that way.

    "Always, my dear." He smiled and cupped her chin. He inspected her face for several moments, then smiled. "You can't help how your body grows, and you are still very beautiful."

    She gave a nod, but didn't rise. Not yet.

    "Rise. Let me check your collar, and we'll go to the Council's meeting room. You have a mission today." His already squinty eyes narrowed as his lips stretched into a closed grin.

    Another nod, and she stood up straight and lifted her chin slightly, and the man ran a hand along the grey collar for a moment.

    "Today we'll do leather." He undid the clasp, tightening the silk ribbon momentarily. She closed her eyes, and in her little shoes, she curled her toes. The collar released, and he placed a new one in its place, this one heavier.

    He tightened it, and she felt her mouth open for air as he secured the pin and then stepped away.

    It felt tight, but she could breathe still, and as long as she kept good posture, it wouldn't get in her way too badly.

    "The enchantment is in place, so if it's too tight, tell me now."

    She tugged at it a moment to get her point across.

    He watched a few moments, and his hands found their way to her neck again. The leather tightened and momentarily dug into her flesh, and then loosened.


    Rare signed 'Thank you.'

    He began to lead the way, and she snatched her gloves from a nearby vanity and pulled them onto her hands. The white constraints to her hands felt more secure than leaving them bare, since he did not leave her knife and harness in their place on her thigh.​

    In the chill of the Council's chamber, her too-short skirt felt like it had been selected to display her underwear the moment a breeze picked up. She felt eyes on her: perverse gazes among the hooded and black-clad figures of the Council as one particularly round and long-winded member explained her duty was to find a phoenix and investigate its threat level against the humans of a tower-city. She was to act the part of a courtesan to a baron who was an ally to the Council, and her story was that she was brought from a city far away, and she did not speak because she did not know the local language.

    It seemed simple enough to her, until Crow approached and shoved a vial into her mouth and pinched her nose. She drank obediently, though it tasted like a man's socks boiled into tea, and was so thick it felt difficult to swallow. She managed, and her mouth popped open for breath. Crow inspected her tongue by pulling it out, then released her nose.

    "Good girl." He cooed as he stroked her face and led her to a side room where the portal stood before her, the other side hidden in darkness. She took a deep breath and quickly brushed any dust from herself before she released her held breath and stepped forward, ready to perform her duty for her masters. Subtly, she raised a middle finger as she passed through, and heard Crow choke on his spit.

    Between one step and the next, she arrived.
  2. The heat of the boiler room was sweltering and claustrophobic. Men of varying ages, some children, some elderly, slaved away to place coal into the furnaces that ran the house of the Baron. Jasper sighed, his golden eyes tracing the flame, which licked and spat with devilish intent, his coal smudged cheeks alighting into a slight smile over the work he had done. The servants skittered in and out of the boiler room, the kitchen adjacent and their own squats further down, rooms with a bed and a toilet. Bare necessities, but it was all that was offered.

    The man got straight back into his work, shovelling coal with a strength and speed most of the men around him would dream of. The warmth was a comfort, even if to the others it was stifling. Jasper held comfort in fire and heat, even when most men died from burns and suffered from flame-related lacerations.

    But soon, a bell was sounded, and it was time to relax. Relaxation, however, in the Baron's home? It was a hard thing to come by as his noble chums would spit and slap at the servants who crossed their paths.

    They would not know it was wrong to cross Jasper. But he would keep his subservience to a survivable limit so he did not spark a full scale riot. However, there had been murmurs, and as Jasper strolled onto the garden at the front of the manorhouse, he hoped that the murmurs were both nothing but mummer's lies, but also a spark of truth that needed to be kindled. Gazing across the district that he could see, he understood the finity of the presences around him. But he had nowhere to go, so he had nothing to achieve by leaving.
  3. Her arrival found her suddenly pressed against the back of a soot-covered stranger. The sharp scent teased at her, and she stepped back as a sneeze shot from her. She quickly covered her nose. and took a step back in silence, eyes wide as she stared at the stranger. Behind her, the portal closed, leaving her alone in a garden with a stranger, where she could hear murmurs of activity not far off. What sort of horrible place was this to step into a mission? She hurriedly curtsied, body trembling as she tore her eyes away from the soot-covered stranger, but from her lips came no words.

    She prayed silently that the man into which she had rammed had not noticed anything unusual about her appearance, and that trembling and looking as lost as she felt would not reflect badly on her first moments in a new world.
  4. Jasper smiled politely at the woman who had appeared in front of him, smiling politely but hiding suspicion behind his eyes. Not often did people just turn up in the city out of the blue, but he would keep himself to himself, and in doing so, bowed to the woman. "Apologies, m'lady. I am disabling you from walking your path. I assume you wish to visit the Baron? You will find his quarters at the top of the left wing." Jasper exclaimed politely as his mind pondered over who she could be. Noblewomen often appeared with fanfare, with the charade of pomp and circumstance. But she, appeared as if out of thin air. The air was crisp, and a breeze had alighted, bring the scents of bread from a nearby bakery.

    "Would you wish for me to escort you to the Baron? I am but a humble coal worker, so I do understand if you do not wish to be seen with someone of my caliber."
  5. When the man turned around to look at her, and she could sense his distrust as easily as she saw how he bowed based on his shadow. After he spoke, she rose, pondering who exactly he was: the man claimed to be a coal worker, but he spoke like he was taught the arts of speech by a tutor. She began to sign in the local version of sign language only after he'd finished his offer. "Thank you. I arrived not long ago, and I do not yet know my way around. I would appreciate your guidance, sir coal worker."

    Really, it was all she could do: accept his help. She wasn't told very much about her mission, save that she was there for the baron, whose home she assumed she found herself at.
  6. "My pleasure." Jasper exclaimed as he watched the lady sign her conversation to him. "Sadly I am not a sir, but I appreciate the compliment." Jasper added as he guided her back into the voluminous home, servants rushing past carrying silver plates, flowers and a menagerie of other paraphernalia to be delivered to the other wings of the home. Heading up the grand main stairwell to the chorus of grunting guards, Jasper guided the woman to the second floor. "So, my lady. I hope I do not sound impertinent when I say this, but may I have your name? I would be able to introduce you to the baron more effectively if I had the honor of your namesake."

    Guiding the woman across the second floor, he stopped outside the baron's door, and waited for her signed response to his question so he could knock and recieve entry to the baron's room. This was an odd occurrence for a coal worker, and if the baron took displeasure to it, the man would let Jasper know soon.
  7. Rare tilted her head as the man spoke, then curtsied before she signed her name: the word 'Rare'. Followed by her signing that she had been instructed to introduce herself to the baron when she arrived. She thanked him with a sign that looked like a blown kiss and a smile before she reached toward the door. She had no voice, so decided she would simply knock and step inside, and hope for the best.

    Brown eyes glanced toward the coal worker, curiosity apparent before she pulled her gaze away and rapped against the door, then pushed it open far enough to slip inside. She felt... bare. This big place, full of people, and she felt certain everyone could see her rear, and how many were scandalized by her long, bare legs? She shuddered internally, then offered a smile to the room, eyes searching for someone who looked of significantly high rank.
  8. His eyes flickered gold as he faced away from the woman, a smile tracing his lips that folded into a frown. She seemed different to the other nobles that traced their trains and their floor-scoffing boots across the floor of the home, his eyes gazing at the grandfather clocks in the foyer. Soon, the raucous and foreboding clashing of the clocks indicated it was time to leave the toil of the baron and escape to mediocre circumstance.

    His escapes from the confines of employment gave him a new lease of energy that he used to power his feet to move as far away from his place of work as he could. The flames were comforting in the coal room, but it was stifling to have to share the room with men who spoke like mongrels.

    His eyes danced across his surroundings as he examined the streets of the district, so often filled with dirt, or devoid of even the smallest speck of life. However, he could hear grunts, and the breaking of bone. He shivered, visually unaware of what was happened until he came across two thuggish characters beating that of an old man.

    "GIVE US THE MONEY, YOU BASTARD." They yelled, as the old man lay in a puddle of bloody tears. Kaltien, appearing disinterested, applied that mask to his persona as he approached the men. One hand went to the scruff of one's tunic, his other hand grasp the other by the arm.

    Swinging the second compatriot into the wall to match his brother-in-arms, Kaltien's eyes flashed pure gold with slitted pupils as a smile crossed his face.

    "Do you think what you have done is righteous? Have you pleased yourselves?" He exclaimed, anger pouring from his voice into the air where two men wriggled and squirmed in his grasp. Veins of jade began to rocket down his cheeks, stopping at his neck as flames of emerald green sprouted from his hands.

    "NO ANSWER? FINE. DO. YOU. THINK. WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. IS RIGHTEOUS." Kaltien bellowed in his angered deity-style voice. The men quivered and screamed as Kaltien's emerald flame seared at their necks.

    "I HOPE THAT YOU TWO FIND PENANCE IN THE AFTERLIFE." He exclaimed as he swung the men, repeatedly, into the wall. Again and again, the blood splatters growing larger and larger as fragments of bone spilled into the fray. Soon, the men were dead, and the old man was saved.

    "It is you!" The old man bleated. "Hearthwing! The Saviour!" He exclaimed, as Kaltien kneeled down beside him, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket to clean the man's face. There was no reply from Kaltien.

    Only a finger to his lips, indicating for the man's silence.

    And then the phoenix walked away, to rest for another day.
  9. Rare greeted the Baron with a deep curtsy as he waited for him to acknowledge her, eyes cast downward.

    The following few hours had her wrapped up in 'settling in' and that night had her occupied with 'proper introductions', as the baron called it. Shortly before morning, Rare returned to the room assigned her and collapsed onto the bed. She gripped a pillow tight, glaring at the wall as she forced herself to calmness.

    She had a mission, and part of that mission involved remaining hidden and remaining submissive. She closed her eyes after a few moments to try for a few hours of rest, only to wake as the scent of smoke filled the room. She glanced behind her at the fireplace to see a maid stirring it and adding fuel. She ignored the maid as the woman left, then slowly stood and looked around her room. Smoke scent robbed her ability to return to rest, so she began instead to rise and explore her bedroom, where she expected the baron would have her spend her days until called upon.

    Fat chance of that. He was simply a way into the city for her. Now that she was here and had been seen in his company, it was likely she could do as she pleased. She began by opening the wardrobe to look inside, only to stare as she saw only the option of short skirts or slit skirts, and everything was lace and ribbons, with one fur for what she assumed was cold days. Nothing fit what she'd seen of fashion here so far.

    This, she decided, had to be Crow's doing. Everyone would notice her like this! She couldn't act stealthily at all in these!
  10. Baron Rivendell was a heart attack of a man. Sweating profusely, with jowls like an obese hound, the man waddled with glee from place to place, causing misery wherever he went. He had hired himself a mysterious woman of the night, seeking pleasure as well as a way to metaphorically puff his chest feathers and show to his other noble chums that he was in fact better than they.

    He had ogled the new escort as she settled in, her clothes inspiring his eyes to gaze and his other regions. But he was a busy man, and he had needs, so ogling would not cut it. He needed to be with the merchandise, up close and personal. But first, he needed to keep his accounts up to scratch, so the higher ups would not have his head on a stick for his lavish expenses.

    Sitting down at his desk with a soft harrumph, he began checking over his expenses, fiddling with digits here and there, and fiddling greatly with the profit margin on the paper so as he looked frugal. And of course, all he had to do to lessen the burden of his own selfish living, was to dabble in the art of monetary slaughter, slashing the already meager servant pay to a mere pittance. If there were any gods above, they would not be pleased. But Baron Rivendell was as oblivious as he was rotund, and continued on his merry, destructive way.

    Kaltien had been strolling down a street filled with whispers. Whispers of what he'd done. Whispers exacerbating what he'd done so far as to the stage that by the time he was ready to finally reach the road leading to his home, the lower caste citizens had painted him as a godslayer among the gods, seeking vengeance against the wicked. His eyes traced the overwhelming joy and hope in the eyes and voices of the citizens, Kaltien's ears almost hearing the hearts of the trodden becoming empowered. However, although his heart resonated with the people's desire for freedom, his mind worried. A fullscale revolution could spread through the tower, destroying everything, including the city of the gods, in it's wake. Kaltien couldn't be part of that. But he knew, somehow, that he would be thrust into the role anyway.

    It was his destiny, and he would try to escape it for as long as he could.
    #10 Arcadia, May 26, 2016
    Last edited: May 26, 2016
  11. Rare dressed before she continued to explore her bedroom, selecting the most modest outfit she could find: a dress with a knee-length skirt and short, puffed sleeves. The dress's collar partly covered the one given her by Crow. Ribbons and lace dominated, and as she looked into the mirror, she sighed, then began to adjust her makeup. Her bruise was gone, but smudged makeup would reflect badly on her.

    Once she finished, she emerged and began to wander. The baron's stink hung outside her door. Disgusting. She hurried from it and began her exploration of the baron's home itself, her pace slow and graceful. She bowed her head to any who passed, servant and noble alike, and did not hesitate to offer a smile or some small aid.

    One servant dropped a candlestick, and Rare placed a hand on another's shoulder to stop him before she knelt and picked up the polished silver with a gloved hand. Through the cloth, she felt it burning, and handed it to the first before smiling at both and starting to walk away without a word, eager to go check her hand for burns.
  12. Kaltien's mind was open as he entered the baron's home to begin work. Dressed in blue work rags and tattered pants, he was ready to begin his day. But he could hear whispers. Whispers mentioning the legend that had been inspired by him. The legend he did not want.

    Hearthwing. A name the humans had attributed to him, and was being spread across the house with the ease of a spring breeze. His deeds spread from saving old women from robberies to stopping gods in their tracks and punishing them for misdeeds, depending on who you asked. All because he saved an old man from premature and unhappy demise.

    He did not want to be a legend. He wanted to exist peacefully, in amongst the ordinariness of humans, and having a saviour accolade attributed to him was something that he did not want to happen. Heading through the grand hall through a hustle bustle of servants and fresh smells from the kitchen, Kaltien headed down into the basement of the home, where the boiler room was contained.

    In the boiler room, there was an eerie quiet as he entered, whispers permeating the air, spreading words such as discord, revolution, and revenge. The men were angry. The teens were inspired. And Kaltien became afraid. They were talking of overthrowing the baron, because of what he had done as "Hearthwing the Saviour".

    They looked at him, their coal smudgened faces frowning. "Jasper, what do you think we should do? The time has come to make a decision." The eldest man of the bunch stated, stepping forward. Asaran Arcwright, he was known as. An artist with no hope, forced to work under the thumb of swine to be able to live.

    "As the candles flame pushes back against the darkness of midnight, so to would you push back against the baron. I cannot stop you, but be warned of the noxious smoke you are going to create. This revolution will be bloody. You will cause death. If you are ready to have blood on your hands, then you are ready to start this revolution."

    "Jasper, if we stay any longer under the thumb of that fat pig, our wives, our children, OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN ARMS AND IN BLOOD WILL PERISH FROM NEGLECT. He pays us so little we can barely survive. I am advocating his demise. I will always advocate his demise. He will fall by the hands of the people, and we will make this tower a better home for all!"

    A cheer went up from the grouping.

    Kaltien's heart sank in his chest.

    They continued to work.
  13. A few hours in, Rare found herself standing at the entrance to the coalworks. She tilted her head as she recognized Jasper, and let herself wander closer in, curious. She stopped mid-step when she saw the caved cheeks and thin bodies of the workers. She stared a few moments, silent, and then turned and fled.

    An hour later, a kitchen girl scampered down with a bucket of water and ladle as Rare watched from the doorway. It wasn't much, but the Baron wouldn't notice missing water, she assumed, and the kitchen girl had been idle. Rare herself looked around for an overseer of some sort, then approached him, ready to distract while water was given to the working men. They smelled like they were all dying, and...

    Being who she was, what she was, she couldn't stand idle.
  14. Their toil continued for hours, shoveling, shoveling and more shoveling. Food was serve, but in a flurry of activity it was devoured and digested and then no longer seen. The men did their work silently, their minds abuzz with thoughts of revolution. Work finished in the evening, and Kaltien's body was drenched in sweat from exertion. He'd put his all in his work, to make sure his mind would not ponder the idea of revolution.

    He did not want anything to do with what they wanted. He wanted to live, but he was being forced into a leadership role and he would not be cast out by the humans for their own need for vengeance. So he would do as they asked. Until the want outweighed the need.

    It had been another toil-filled day in the coal room, but the day was not over yet. A servant came into the boiler room, bowed, and declared her intention. "The baron would like for all staff to wait in the main hall. He will be delivering a speech."

    That was not a good sign. But the coalworkers moved, as did Kaltien, and they entered the grand foyer where at the top of diverging stairs lay the Baron, harrumphing in order to catch the attention of his audience.

    "You are all here for one purpose." said the baron, his face red with effort, or anger. It was hard to detect. "I have heard your whispering of discontent, and I wish to offer you an olive branch. If you swear your fealty to me and me alone, I can offer you the opportunity to bring forth your issues in our own small council meeting. However, each subset of you under my employ must elect a representative. We will then discuss what you wish to ascertain from me, and we will work from there." The baron exclaimed, sweat dripping down his brow. "You are dismissed. Go elect your representatives."
  15. Rare stood at his side, as though he held an invisible leash. She kept a neutral expression as he used his 'generosity' as an excuse to show her off. This was the life she was given in this world while she was investigating, though her garb made things difficult, since Crow sent her home wardrobe rather than region-appropriate clothing.

    She saw the coal workers, a few of their faces familiar. They looked so thin... Her heart ached as only a Hunter's could when forced to look at a starving populace, though he empathy for them did not show in her face.

    She was trained too well for that.
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