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VIRGILIUS HILDEGARD
"Brother of mine, are you sure of this?"
Scarlet Hildegard found herself quite the conundrum: enable her zany sibling, or rather be proper and talk some much-needed sense into the man. She observed him empathically as he paced, hastily picking up bits and bobs around the room. As it always was, Scarlet supervised her older brother's deeds as he would over her children's. One significant, problematic difference - she thought as she stood aside, biting her lower lip nervously - was that, more often than not, children's larks were innocent and enjoyable. Her brother deciding to take justice into his own two hands, while admirable, was a terrifying thought to fathom.
"As sure as death itself, Scarlet," he responded cooly, quite content with his decision even as it left his lips. "This shall be going no further! If I have anything to say about it."
With an annoyed sigh, Scarlet made a few aimless steps before quickly picking up the edges of her lavish nightgown and grabbing the candelabra, marching closer to Virgilius. The pride she felt over her brother's decisiveness on such an important decision was only outed by the feeling of dread for his safety.
"Wait. I shall help you."
"I am sure I can handle a simple cravat knot mys-"
A quick slap on a wrist hushed Virgilius mid-word. He jerked his hand backward, surprised gaze resting on his sibling's frowned visage.
"I said I shall help," Scarlet repeated quietly, working her hands around the silken cravat on her brother's neck. He allowed her a moment of silence to gather her thoughts. "Leave on the tip of your toes," she instructed him as her slender fingers straightened the edges and tucked the cloth in. "I have barely managed to put them to sleep."
"Of course," Virgilius agreed, reaching out for the intricate black coat and a pair of finely crafted dark gloves resting on the seat. "Scarlet, I apologize," he added, unaware of why. It had occurred to him that he had never truly done so.
"For what?" she tilted her head sideways, the same way she used to do as a child, genuinely curious.
"Well. For everything, I suppose."
She thought about it momentarily as if contemplating whether a positive response was merited. Then, the childishness in her gaze vanished, and she composed herself into the beautiful young woman she was. A true pride of the family.
"No," she responded with a light shake of her head that sent the dark, whispy locks on a ride around. "I am not the one you need to apologize to, Virgil."
Her words, albeit spoken with the best intention, rang true and painful in Virgil's mind. At the very least, there was an opportunity to begin compensating for the wrong. Still, the idea of the irreparable damage caused by his recklessness stripped the deed of recognition and praise. He did not ask to be coddled for his fallibility, and he could have always relied on her to tell him what he needed to hear. He took it bravely, with a smirk.
"If that is the case, then thank you, rather."
Lead by her impeccable etiquette, Scarlet gave him a polite, well-rehearsed bow in response, followed by a statement simple to speak, difficult to oblige on.
"Please, be careful."
***
The deafening silence within the carriage was only parried by a persistent pounding of rain against its roof and an even gat of the horses through the nigh empty streets of London. It was an evident transition from the lavishes of the high life of London and the real world.
Two officers of the Bow Street stood huddled with their small lanterns, covered from the rain, engaging in a late-night chat, barely higher than a whisper. And yet, they almost immediately ceased and refocused when the tall figure emerged from the carriage. With a cane he held in front of him, Virgil pushed aside an empty bottle of cheap brew and stepped towards the pair.
"Lord Hildegard," both men greeted Virgilius with a well-rehearsed greeting.
"Gentlemen," he courtesied in return. "Shall we?" Being that they were handsomely rewarded up front along with the rest of the organization, officers did not hesitate to march toward the end of the street. Lord Hildegard followed along, his heart pounding louder and faster with every step toward the door that stood between him and the one thing he came to retrieve. Deep down, he had still hoped that the talks were wrong, but every fiber of his being begged to differ. Nevertheless, his mind had been made well before that, beyond the reports and much beyond the talk of London. He will be leaving with a child in hand.
Coming all the way up to the door, the officers turned to Virgilius again for approval. It had arrived swiftly, with a confident nod. Three loud knocks echoed. The other man ordered for entry in a confident, demanding tone. Another three knocks followed.
@Sailor Arti - Eleanor Hildegard
"Brother of mine, are you sure of this?"Scarlet Hildegard found herself quite the conundrum: enable her zany sibling, or rather be proper and talk some much-needed sense into the man. She observed him empathically as he paced, hastily picking up bits and bobs around the room. As it always was, Scarlet supervised her older brother's deeds as he would over her children's. One significant, problematic difference - she thought as she stood aside, biting her lower lip nervously - was that, more often than not, children's larks were innocent and enjoyable. Her brother deciding to take justice into his own two hands, while admirable, was a terrifying thought to fathom.
"As sure as death itself, Scarlet," he responded cooly, quite content with his decision even as it left his lips. "This shall be going no further! If I have anything to say about it."
With an annoyed sigh, Scarlet made a few aimless steps before quickly picking up the edges of her lavish nightgown and grabbing the candelabra, marching closer to Virgilius. The pride she felt over her brother's decisiveness on such an important decision was only outed by the feeling of dread for his safety.
"Wait. I shall help you."
"I am sure I can handle a simple cravat knot mys-"
A quick slap on a wrist hushed Virgilius mid-word. He jerked his hand backward, surprised gaze resting on his sibling's frowned visage.
"I said I shall help," Scarlet repeated quietly, working her hands around the silken cravat on her brother's neck. He allowed her a moment of silence to gather her thoughts. "Leave on the tip of your toes," she instructed him as her slender fingers straightened the edges and tucked the cloth in. "I have barely managed to put them to sleep."
"Of course," Virgilius agreed, reaching out for the intricate black coat and a pair of finely crafted dark gloves resting on the seat. "Scarlet, I apologize," he added, unaware of why. It had occurred to him that he had never truly done so.
"For what?" she tilted her head sideways, the same way she used to do as a child, genuinely curious.
"Well. For everything, I suppose."
She thought about it momentarily as if contemplating whether a positive response was merited. Then, the childishness in her gaze vanished, and she composed herself into the beautiful young woman she was. A true pride of the family.
"No," she responded with a light shake of her head that sent the dark, whispy locks on a ride around. "I am not the one you need to apologize to, Virgil."
Her words, albeit spoken with the best intention, rang true and painful in Virgil's mind. At the very least, there was an opportunity to begin compensating for the wrong. Still, the idea of the irreparable damage caused by his recklessness stripped the deed of recognition and praise. He did not ask to be coddled for his fallibility, and he could have always relied on her to tell him what he needed to hear. He took it bravely, with a smirk.
"If that is the case, then thank you, rather."
Lead by her impeccable etiquette, Scarlet gave him a polite, well-rehearsed bow in response, followed by a statement simple to speak, difficult to oblige on.
"Please, be careful."
***
The deafening silence within the carriage was only parried by a persistent pounding of rain against its roof and an even gat of the horses through the nigh empty streets of London. It was an evident transition from the lavishes of the high life of London and the real world.
Two officers of the Bow Street stood huddled with their small lanterns, covered from the rain, engaging in a late-night chat, barely higher than a whisper. And yet, they almost immediately ceased and refocused when the tall figure emerged from the carriage. With a cane he held in front of him, Virgil pushed aside an empty bottle of cheap brew and stepped towards the pair.
"Lord Hildegard," both men greeted Virgilius with a well-rehearsed greeting.
"Gentlemen," he courtesied in return. "Shall we?" Being that they were handsomely rewarded up front along with the rest of the organization, officers did not hesitate to march toward the end of the street. Lord Hildegard followed along, his heart pounding louder and faster with every step toward the door that stood between him and the one thing he came to retrieve. Deep down, he had still hoped that the talks were wrong, but every fiber of his being begged to differ. Nevertheless, his mind had been made well before that, beyond the reports and much beyond the talk of London. He will be leaving with a child in hand.
Coming all the way up to the door, the officers turned to Virgilius again for approval. It had arrived swiftly, with a confident nod. Three loud knocks echoed. The other man ordered for entry in a confident, demanding tone. Another three knocks followed.
@Sailor Arti - Eleanor Hildegard
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