MacabreFox

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

So I'm thinking... Lady Evelyn's Stitchery, goes up flames (; ?

I don't mind if you take control of any NPCs I introduce, helps flesh them out as a character.

Also, so I'm thinking, that they ought to go to the market to get food, and while they're there, Vera will pick up a few books (I was reading through the RP, and I realized, that they don't even know what the job is yet, unless I change the part where Sam tells them about the job.) one about daily etiquette, and one about paintings (because what rich snob doesn't know about famous painters?), just for a lucky choice. But I was also thinking, that Vera would find a dress there, or if Shay doesn't mind the drive (as it would be on the way to his flat, perhaps?) they could stop by the seamstress she frequents, and in the morning, pick up their clothes.

Thoughts on this?

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

The man merely narrowed his eyes into a soured glare at Shay, how much narrower they could get, she could only imagine. “I will do no such thing, neither of you deserve an apology from me, for if I have offended anyone it will be to righteous English folk, and I certainly will not apologize to your harlot of a wife, who has no business lying in the bed of people like you.” Leonard sniffed, as if he were the one that had been offended in the first place, rather than him causing offense with his harsh, cutting words. Whether Shay was visibly affected by this man’s words or not, Vera could not render, yet it was her, that exhibited a visage of outrage when she drew away from the comfort of Shay’s arms as he lit his cigarette, and balled her hands into fists, where the knuckles turned white like the snow that dusted the streets outside.

Vera couldn’t stand the words coming out of his mouth anymore, “Let us leave from here, darling. I will never buy anything from this store so long as my heart still beats.” She made for the coat rack without another word, and removed her hat and coat with great haste, not even bothering to dress herself proper before disappearing outside.

Finding the Peugeot with ease, just like Shay had said, he moved the car, she pressed her body against it, coat balled in one hand, cloche crushed in the other. Gritting her teeth in anger, Vera could feel the hot sting of tears fill her eyes, as her nose tickled with the touch of the cold January air. How a man so foul, so ill-tempered could judge the Irish, let alone Shay, pained her. She knew that the Irish received a bad reputation in Britain, especially with the uprising going on in Northern Ireland. It was more than that, she knew that it was morally wrong for any human to judge any being, for any reason, unless they were personally harmed by said person. She felt that in this day and age, too many people held too tightly to their backwards beliefs. Shay was right, she knew that countless Irishmen served time in the Great War, and how any man could be so disrespectful to any soldier that came back alive, was simply shameful.

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

Sounds good to me.

Well, there we have it, I hope this scene here works!

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

By an automatic reaction, one that felt strangely familiar to Vera, she leaned into Shay as he hung his arm over her shoulder in an affectionate manner, perhaps this knowledge on how to behave when in love, came from hours spent watching the Roughers and their ladies mingling under the dim haze of the Tawdry. Tipping her face up to look at him, like she had watched so many couples do, a pleasant look came over her face, one that could easily denote as love, or endearment. The smell of cigarette smoke hung about him, and while it never bothered her before, and it didn’t now, it provided a rather comforting effect.

Leonard had returned from the back room bearing a rather robust selection of soft-hued swatches, and arrayed them in a fashionable presence, it had appeared that he overheard Shay speaking, for it was evident, of the look his hawkish visage portrayed, one of utmost disgust, though Vera had not witnessed the deeply etched scowl on his face.

“Thank you for moving the car, dear. Well, I’m afraid not… Leonard here went to fetch some swatches from the back. We’ll see if I like any of the fabrics he has. I took a gander at everything in the store here, and unfortunately, everything is either made for a heifer, or a twig-thin child.”

“I think it a shame.” Leonard spat. Now he had her attention, for her gaze travelled to stare at him in utter shock, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide in astonishment. She had felt the condemnation coming from the moment she walked in to the shop, and fell under his scrutinizing stare.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me right, miss. I said, I think it’s a damned shame. So you can quit your gawking at me like some ignorant pheasant. Out of all the good English men that went to serve in the war, died, came back maimed, and you bed down with a pot-lickin’, potato-farmin’ harpie with the likes of this man. It is an utter disgrace for you to be seen in public with the likes of him. Have you no shame, or self-respect? Surely a woman like yourself would have some sense of virtue.”

“How dare you criticize us!” Vera exclaimed, now she could feel the blood boiling in her veins. She was never one to insult anyone, even if it came to a person’s ethnicity, unless of course, they committed a personal foul against Vera. “I would think that a shopkeeper in this part of town would have enough sense to keep his bloody fucking mouth shut for the sake of making a sale.”

“My shop does well without the need of a green-eared bog-trotter with the likes of you coming in here, and foulin’ up my shop with that horrid stench of you.” Leonard focused then on Shay. Bertie, the young sales girl, squirmed in discomfort upon hearing the insults, she had a youthful mind, but despite that fact, she clearly knew right from wrong, and felt no need to jump into the dispute.

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

Now, I like that idea, but I'm curious... Is magick going to be widespread, meaning not just the Roughers, but even common citizens? Or is it going to be a handful that know they have it? Just trying to gauge on how rare this is going to be.

I'll be pretty busy today, so I'm not sure if I'll have a post up today, if not, definitely by tomorrow.

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

I quite like this idea a lot, I've had my knack for historical-fantasy RPs as of late.

I'll get a character sheet up right away ^.^!

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

That's alright ^.^!

Ok good. How do you think we'll come across these rumors? Other members in the Roughers? People on the street?

I'll get a post up in the morning then, be prepared for some nasty insults, poor Shay /:

The Whispering Badlands

@Deserted@MacabreFox@dreamingflowers@The New Yorker@Fetzen

Alright and with that I can work on the next post that will totally change everything. Well it is going to bring the roleplay to new heights. Are you guys good with me opening up to the next scene?

@beyond visions

Yep, go for it.

The Whispering Badlands

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Grace O'Faolain

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It was in that moment, while those not involved with Emmett’s outburst remained standing on the outskirts of arm’s length from Othen and Emmett, did Cillian step forward, like the dark northern isle of a divine entity he was. For a split second, their eyes locked onto to one another, and all she could manage was to nod her vigorously, his intervention would quell the dispute, surely. She did her best to conceal the horror she felt within, as her heart took a nose-dive into the pit of her stomach, just like plunging off a cliff straight into the sea. She knew his lie contradicted the one she had told Othen, as she had found the flower, not Cillian. But who was to say that Cillian didn’t find a flower in Emmett’s leather bag earlier in the evening when they had all retired for bed, and then she another after confronting him when she went to relieve herself? Come what may, the sensation that he would do anything to direct the blame away from Grace for concealing this fact, calmed and at the same time mortified her. They were stranded out here in the desert, sure she had a replenished water skein that Rook gave her, and she had a map to guide her out of the Badlands, but the idea of losing the opportunity, the glory accompanied with locating the Palm made her feel sick. Glancing nervously to Floure, she wasn’t sure if any of them would rat her out. While she doubted the trust-worthiness of the group, Othen, Emmett and Floure, from the events that transpired last night, it did make some sense for the tall tale that Cillian had spun.

Her lips were pursed together in a thin line of worry as she viewed the unfolding scene with skepticism. While she cared little more for the lie, she felt more concern with Rook. How would he react to the news that Emmett was using the Desert Flower, casting the entire company into jeopardy? Regardless of what they all said, it was the truth that the boy consumed the flower. As Cillian had mentioned, not only from Emmett’s frenzied antics, but his body was exhibiting unquestionable signs that he was indeed, dependent on the flower.

With the lack of sleep, she had slept for a rough estimate of five hours or less before waking again to the breaking dawn on the eastern horizon, Grace had relished in the quiet moments of the morning, as most had not stirred from their sleep. It was when Emmett arose with his sling dangling from his hands, did she start to question withholding the flower from him, even then, his eyes were strained, darted to and fro, checking to see if anyone would notice his disappearance. Most importantly, she wished that the group would see some sense in having Emmett sober up, after all, if they relented, and continued to have him abuse the flower as he has, it would end in tragedy for the sake of the mission. She waited patiently under the heat of the morning sun for an answer, from anyone to break the silence that had fallen over the landscape, and strange it was, as there were no other sounds that echoed across the derelict land; no sounds of life, nor civilization. They were truly in the middle of nowhere. Her brows furrowed together like a tight knitted shawl, the shade from her felt-wool hat shielded her eyes from the harsh rays of sunlight as she planted her hands square upon her hips.

The Whispering Badlands

I'm working on a post now as we speak.