Igraine

Loki's Laugh

There we go - sorry for the wait, but 'tis up! And RoadRash? I didn't speak a lot about what Haakon was doing, nor Raudr (for Idle), only because I wanted to make zero assumptions. Whenever you all get the chance to post, please do feel free to assume that Svala and Hallerna are being useful as the confines allow, likely simply assisting the injured to escape the healing house without blocking the doorway.

Loki's Laugh

Just Outside the Healing House - Trelleborg

Eyja was actually beginning to feel kind of sorry for Raudr, to be honest. Sure, he was being a show-off with his new sword... Dagger... Well, whatever it was. And then when he was rubbing it in, about him being all grown-up and that she and Ranulf weren't much better than babies like Dagny? Yes, he was being pretty dumb about it all.

But when Haakon cuffed him upside the head, and then Svala spat words that even cut her like little blades? Eyja's eyes fell. Even if Raudr had made her pretty mad, she found no joy in seeing the face of her playmate - or former playmate, she supposed - turn as red as his hair. The little girl was busily studying the tabby black and grey patterns on the top of Tore's fuzzy head when she felt the first rumblings through her arms, over which the normally unspeakably lazy and pliable kitten was draped.

"Tore?" Eyja whispered as a low, keening growl began to build in the half-grown kitten's belly, reaching his throat with a furious yowl that made all the hairs on the little girl's body stand on end, her pale blue eyes wide with dread. With a furious hiss, the kitten leapt from Eyja's arms and bolted across the muddy thoroughfare, clawing his way swiftly up a framing post of the nearest building from the healing house, disappearing over the roof.

"Tore!" Eyja cried, her face stricken as the kitten bounded away - and that is when Vigi's voice rang through the morning air from the healing house, drowning the little girl's dismay.

Hallerna's eyes had been studying the ground too, but for very different reasons than her youngest daughter's. She tried to wait patiently while Svala collected Eyja, still holding one of the packs full of their scant belongings while she waited for her girls to return, so they could continue on to the Hall, to their new living quarters. But that didn't stop the embarrassment that burned on her cheeks, seeing Haakon this morning, and even little Raudr, the prick of her wounded pride before any members of the Ragnarrson household -

- And then suddenly, that ridiculous, prideful concern ceased to matter at all. Hallerna dropped the pack to the ground, just as Svala took Eyja around her thin shoulders, whirling her about swiftly away from the doorway. "Go to Madir, now! Tore will be fine - go!"

The little girl knew the tone of voice that brooked no argument, her older sister's and mother's both, and did not even think to question - not for a second. Eyja sprinted the short distance to her mother who wrapped her arms around her quickly, so very tightly, before pulling back once more taking her littlest girl by the shoulders.

"Go Eyja, run to Loker, to the guards. Tell them what's happened. You heard Vigi - draugr. Draugr in the healing house! Don't stop for anything or anyone, you hear me? Fast as you can!"

Eyja nodded, frightened, shaking but certainly not from the cold. But she could be strong; she could do this thing. Hallerna kissed her forehead swiftly, releasing her daughter's shoulders. "Brave girl, my Eyja. Now go!"

That too-tight braid seemed a veritable trail of flame red as Eyja sprinted away, and Hallerna swiftly turned to the healing house. Her own axe in hand as she made to follow Svala, to help carry away the wounded and injured to safety, or cut down the walking dead men that had somehow found their way within the walls of Trelleborg.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Such a fantastic post Lil - Siya is such a little, unrelenting bad ass! Love it!

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

HA! Wonderful post Derren - I'll either get to a post this evening, or tomorrow morning/afternoon. Then, we can plot our next move, and how best to torture our respective characters!

Loki's Laugh

Positively adore him, like no other. A kind, generous man yet with the brave, honorable soul of a true warrior, willing to sacrifice all for the innocent and helpless... *tears up a little*

So sorry I haven't written, but it's been difficult to pull my thoughts back into the characters after so long a period of time. Still, I should have something up today at some point, and I apologize for the wait.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

It truly is Dot. Terrifying! So glad to see these wonderful posts going up, and looking forward to yours as well Serge

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Good evening, and hoping everyone's had a lovely day, and working on into a fun weekend! And very much looking forward to seeing what everyone will be getting up to as well, via postings ;)

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

Galina did not speak, but simply nodded her head to the Japanese gentleman's question. Yes, yes of course she could read English, and very well at that. But Souma would discover that soon enough.

And her gentle, yet surprisingly strong hands provided a steady hold as she helped him to a nearby loveseat, upholstered in thick velvet damask. As she took his champagne flute from his hand, setting it gently to the floor beside his seat, her subtle smile reassured Souma there was absolutely no need for apologies of any kind from him. Not in the least.

Galina leaned to look thoughtfully into the young man's face where he sat, her fingertips gently tracing the outline of his cheek, his jaw, almost tenderly before she stood once more to her full height and turned toward the roomful of books, as tall and far as her eyes could see. With a single look over her shoulder, one finger raised to silently ask Souma to give her just a moment. Just a moment please, to find just the right reading material.

The gentle swish of her skirts may as well have been the only sound in the room as she moved slowly, leisurely from shelf to shelf, her eyes roving the varied titles until she found one that made one brow raise in delighted surprise. It seemed this was meant to be a very private library indeed, and Galina simply could not resist pulling one black and gold leather bound volume from its roost.

She moved with a preternatural grace back to the loveseat where she had left Souma for a moment, taking the walking stick from his fingers and leaning it carefully against the upholstered arm. "There now, you will not be needing that for a while, Mr. Takahiro," she said easily, all trace of the halting English of the Baronessa disappearing completely as the dulcet, musically-accented words of Galina danced in the air between them.

The young woman settled easily beside Souma, setting her prize book on the marble-topped end table before she leaned toward him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders, whispering soft reassurances as she pulled him toward her. Were there any other eyes to see them this moment, Galina's actions would have been shockingly bold, unseemly at best as she let the handsome young man's head rest in her lap, one arm cradling his neck and shoulders as she made a pillow of herself. The fingers of her free hand gently pushed wispy tendrils of Souma's black hair from his forehead and face, a wide, wolfish grin spreading across her lips.

"Are you comfortable, Mr. Takahiro?" she asked solicitously, her head tilted curiously as if truly waiting for his answer. "Please do not be troubled - I would not hurt you. You are a kind man, and decent, and so splendidly accommodating. No dear man, you will simply... Sleep, but only for a short while, an hour - two perhaps. You may even wake in time to enjoy the rest of this lovely party, though I shan't be seeing you again."

"And so I would like to leave you with a little something, a small token of my esteem - though I fear the chances you will remember this may be slim indeed." Galina pouted prettily, as if the thought truly pained her, before she continued on.

"Still, I can leave you with a good night story. And this tale comes from 'The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night' - neither Russian, nor Japanese, but Arabic." Galina reached across Souma to the end table, pulling the volume she found and perching it with one hand on his chest, flipping the pages until she found just the place she wished. Still cradling the young man to her lap, she held the book in her free hand, dexterous fingers holding down the pages.

"The king of this land once had an unfaithful wife, who he discovered and had executed. Every night after that, this king would take a new bride to his chambers, and thereafter have her executed in the morning. This went on for some time, until he was finally married to the inestimable Scheherazade, who told him a story a night, always leaving the tale undone to buy her one more day of life until the next. This magnificent woman is described right here, a lady who '... possessed courage, wit, and penetration. She had read much, and had so admirable a memory, that she never forgot anything she had read. She had successfully applied herself to philosophy, medicine, history, and the liberal arts; and her poetry excelled the compositions of the best writers of her time. Besides this, she was a perfect beauty, and all her accomplishments were crowned by solid virtue... "

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

That perfectly placid expression on her exquisite face changed not an iota, no more nor less than sweetly content - or perhaps just a touch pleasantly confused - as Capitaine Lightfoot spoke of catching silverfish this night. How quaintly these strange folk talked here in Port Royal, but the well-traveled Antoinette was equal to it all of course, with all the aplomb worthy of a gentlewoman.

But the rogue's stomach flipped, likely only kept in its proper place by this ridiculously tight corset. Oh, she suspected the private conversation between Robert and Thomas did not bode well, but she had no idea the matter would turn so dire, so quickly. She took an overlong sip of her wine, all the better to wet her suddenly dry tongue. Oh, she'd gotten Thomas' message, loud and clear yet again. But damn it all - this entire venture was going straight to hell -

And then it took a turn straight to the lowest circle of the Abyss, or perhaps one lower than even Dante could have envisioned? Antonia watched, stunned and not even bothering to hide that fact, as Nicolette bolted from their small gathering, wide-eyed and terrified, without a word for a single one of them. Jax, being perpetually Jax-like of course, made some small jest, tapping her shoulder lightly as if to invite her to a game of tag one fine, future day. But there was no hiding the confusion in his eyes either, and the rogue could read the bewilderment on his face writ large as he turned to follow.

Antonia could spare only a helpless glance to Thomas, the slightest shake of her head to tell him she hadn't the least idea what could have possibly sent Nicolette running, as if she had the very hounds of Hell at her heels. But the Commander had been in the process of greeting a newcomer to their party, and the rogue forced the masque of Antoinette to return her attentions to the man whose company she was meant to be engaging this night.

"Captain Poutreau, so glad you could make it tonight... " The British officer's voice trailed off as he too followed Nicolette's flight, and the helmsman's chase.

"Well, that was... Unexpected."

Commander Murray smiled mildly, no more than an upward tilt of a single corner of his mouth. His dark gaze turning toward Thomas with a sardonic little tilt of his head. "Well, I imagine we should not lose all sense of propriety - that simply would not do. Captain Rene Poutreau, this enchanting lady on my arm is Miss Antoinette Greene; and the gentleman here would be Captain Thomas Lightfoot, a very old and dear friend of mine."

"Remind me again Thomas, what was it we were only just discussing? Your 'privateer' crew... Wait! It will come to me... Loyal, yes? Fearing neither the roar of a cannon, nor the musket of a soldier and... And... Undeterred by stone walls and royal anger? That was a more-or-less perfect paraphrase, was it not?"

He chuckled warmly, shaking his head. "So tell me Captain Lightfoot, what was it that just sent your First Mate to flight? The wine? Sugar plums and petit fours? Oh! I have it! The flower arrangements!"

It was all Antonia could do to titter politely, as if she had not the least idea what joke was being made, but was simply too polite not to at least seem amused. All she could do indeed, to keep her arm entwined in the Commander's without snapping it up behind her dear Robert's back, and burying one of her innumerable hidden blades to the hilt in his neck.

Or in the swarthy French Naval captain. A slow, ugly suspicion was dawning on Antonia, the rogue who heard much, the spider who listened far, far more than she ever spoke.

"First Mate?" Capitaine Poutreau's eyes followed after la putain with a grim smile and an incredulous shake of his head. His thickly accented English fairly dripped with contempt, though the smarmy grin never left his thin lips. "You monsieur, made a woman your First Mate?" The Frenchman snorted his derision with a laugh.

"Did no one ever tell you, that women have no place aboard a proper ship? What manner of vessel do you captain then, that should take on such... Such... Baggage?"

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

So good to see you about again, Dot! And I hope your 'radio silence' was for an awesome reason involving something fun, worthwhile and/or otherwise a net positive to your life and such?

And thank you, Heroes!