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@ConteAmarula Thanks for adding that bit in at the end there! I'll go through my post again and make the necessary changes, as well as read through the last few posts again to make sure everything is tied up right.

EDIT: @ConteAmarula I've made some changes to my post, that way it corresponds with what you wrote in your post above.
Alright I posted! Please let me know if I ought to change anything, ok? I did a lot of reading up on just now, so my apologies if it sounds a bit confusing. The piece at the top is before anyone else arrived on scene, which transitions into them leaving.
"With this newfound information, I think it's best for us to return to House Ianus." Johanna said, turning to face Wes.

"Pardon me... Are you going to take that arm with you?" He interjected, gesturing with a pointed finger at the limb that was tucked securely under her own arm.

"Why yes of course. It's evidence. I believe that I will be able to identify the victim from further examination, whether it's female or male, a villager, or a nobleman." She returned with poignancy. While she knew that each member of House Ianus had a particular Talent, she had only met Wesley that day. It left her wondering what exactly the man was capable of. As for herself, after stepping foot inside of the mill, a wretched headache grew on her, and her stomach had knotted. She felt worried that if they lingered much longer, she might fall into a spell.

"Well," Wes began, regarding her with great contemplation, he uttered a sigh of reluctance and nodded, "I suppose it would do no harm. After all, they are dead."

So with that, Wesley and Johanna exited the mill. However, they were left in a perplexing situation. Their horses were gone. With a pallid face, Johanna turned to gaze at Wes, accusation in her eyes burned brighter than the weak light of the moon.

"Mr. Craven, have you forgot to tie our horses?" She asked, and then turned her eyes away from him to scan the darkness.

"Nonsense, I know I tied my mare up right and good. Here, let me give them a call." The blond American shook his head. Then, placing two of his fingers in his mouth, he gave a sharp whistle. A moment of silence passed between Johanna and Wesley before the soft clip-clop of horse hooves could be heard.

"I have to say, I'm rather impressed." Johanna said, offering him a smile full of relief.

"Any good creature can be called back if they leave their masters. They must've gone looking for some grass." With that, Wesley strode towards the horses, and gathered their reins in his hand. They mounted their horses, and left the way they came. Little time had passed, but they had not traveled far, yet unbeknownst to them, the duo had lost the trail, so they did not hear nor see Lady Isabeau approaching the general direction of the mill, nor did they hear the sound of hoofbeat upon the dirt-clod path by Ren and Lily. Rather abruptly, Johanna reined in her steed and called out to Wes, several feet ahead of her.

"Mr. Craven!" She hissed. "This isn't the way we came."

"Oh come now, are you suggesting that I've done and got us lost? I used to be a swell hunter back in the States now, have some faith in me, ok?" Wes said, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"I refuse to place faith in a person that has us lost. Listen, we ought to head back, and find the path again. The light of the moon is playing tricks with your eyes." She urged.

"I know we're going the right way, why just look at that tree over yonder. Don't you see how the moss grows on that side there? Moss always grows on the north side of a tree, and we need to head east. So by my reckoning, we have to go-"

BANG!

"What was that?!" Johanna inquired as she struggled to rein in her steed, the sound had startled him enough to cause him to rear up and threatened to unseat her. From under her arm, the hacked limb fell to the ground, and she continued on with her struggle of settling down the massive bay stallion.

"Gunshot. Sounds like it came from the mill."

"What if someone came back? We should go at once and look! What if it's the beast?" At the idea of the beast returning to its lair, Johanna wheeled her horse about, and sped him back the way they came.

"Miss Johanna! Wait!" He cried out, struggling with his own horse still. "Blast that woman. C'mon now, hiyaaah!" He dug his knees into his horse's ribs, and pulled hard on the bridle. With his unruly mount finally under control, Wes geared his horse after Johanna.

~

Riding headlong at a breakneck pace, the two broke onto the fringes of the mill where they could see a familiar figure of a woman bolting through the clearin, and off into the underbrush. If she recalled correctly, the woman on foot Lillian McClellen. "Lillian!"

"It is I, Johanna, and Wesley of the House. " She called after her fellow house-mate, this time she slowed her horse to cautionary walk, her head swiveled around as she sought for where Lily had broken through the underbrush. She didn't like the fact that Lily was out here all by herself at the mill, seemingly, hadn't she been charged with investigating Lady Isabeau? Something in the air didn't feel right... It felt as if they were being watched from the shadows. Was it the beast that called this mill-house home? Had the creature finally come home to roost?

Gripping the horn of his saddle, Wesley dismounted from his steed. Originally, as he noticed the horses when they first arrived on sight of the mill earlier this evening, the horses were not in such a frantic state as they were in now. Johanna, and his horse were having a hard time being controlled. With the unruly bay mare under control to a degree, he led her promptly over to a tree, where he had tethered her before, and drew out his M1878s. Taking note of the light on in the mill, as he recalled extinguishing the lights before they left, or at least he thought he had; Wesley began moving towards the mill house, where he then nudged the door open with the toe of his boot. His thumbs pulled back the hammer on both revolvers as he peered inside.

It was then that Lily broke through the clearing, perhaps responding to hearing her voice called aloud. Squeezing her thighs gently, she urged her horse onward, and it was there, under the weakened light of the moon, that she could discern the gleam of metal in Lily's hand, as well as a peculiar look on her face. It reminded her of a man on the hunt. "Lillian, are you alright? What in the blazing devils is going on here?" Johanna inquired, near enough to the woman to drop her voice to a low tone. "Pray tell me that you are not alone by yourself out here? Mr. Craven and I were returning to the House when we heard a gunshot fired from this direction." Here she nodded her head at the carbine which Lily carried.
Aye, aye cap'n!
Just for the record, I am still here. I'm working on a post now, almost finished, and it should be up today or tomorrow.

"If you say so, Miss Vera."

The sharpness of his words felt as if a dagger had been thrust straight through her heart. He left her barren, without a desire to speak henceforth. Furthermore, as his hand withdrew from hers, it was as if the dagger in her heart, twisted, the blade of agony, the repercussions of her actions from four days ago, fell upon her in crushing waves of guilt. As Shay had turned his face away from her, so had she, however, she did this so to hide the tears that fought to spill. A knotted lump in her throat pushed her to the verge of sobbing, yet she swallowed it with what pride she had left.

'Let your heart be cold... Cold and painless as the snow upon these hills. It would not do you well to focus upon other things. The painting. You must secure the painting. Focus, Vera. At least for today...' She chided herself inwardly, her hands balling into fists of self-hatred.

~

In all honesty, she hadn't heard a word in the exchange of conversation, simply because of the fact that her thoughts were elsewhere, even though she had chided herself repeatedly, the entire car ride over here, it did not help, especially when Shay had helped her from the car. Any physical touch, be it feigned or not, still sent her heart into a whirlwind. Even more so, the words he muttered in the entry way as they waited for the Herr and Frau to receive them pained her further. She knew that she had no time available to dote upon her own misgivings when such pressing matters at hand called for her full attention. When Albert had invited them to receive refreshments, Vera requested a cup of tea, anything alcoholic might give rise to unwanted emotions. She took note of the fact that the Great Hall was, down the left wing of the manor, and as Shay stopped to admire one of Van Gogh's paintings, only to learn two more facts. First, during her opium-haze, Shay had studied up on painters that Albert would possibly know. And secondly, the fact that the painting was a replication, and not an original.

As they entered the great hall, she made certain to keep her emotions in check, any overreaction or exceptional enthusiasm would draw attention to her by the Frau, such a nosy little badger she was. With confidence, as customary to having guests in one's home, Albert led them to a set of twin leather couches, where a tiger skin rug commanded attention. However, as Shay took the lead in conversation, Vera allowed herself to gaze about the room. She spotted several curious animals on display, such as a cheetah, lion, and a wolf, along with the impressive head of a black bear. What she missed in conversation, Vera deduced on her own accord that Albert was quite the hunter. Without a word, a servant bearing the trays with the requested beverages were set before them on a silver platter. After the brandy was poured, Vera claimed her cup of tea, and reached for the cream. When she returned the cream to its place on the platter, her eyes met Clara's, and while the Frau gave her a thin-lipped smile, Vera's heart began to pound. Carefully, she lifted the saucer and rested it upon her knee, taking care not to spill a drop of tea.

Finally, when the time came, Albert turned his attention upon Vera, causing her to take a sip of tea before returning it to the platter. Folding her hands neatly in her lap, she gave him her full attention. "You are too kind, Albert. Yes... now that the war has come to an end, I've reclaimed my brush and my pen once more. Conway, has been uplifting towards my works. While my father isn't so fond of either, it's nice to have someone such as him be a source of inspiration, and motivation."

"Tell me, Abigale, what poets do you find enthralling? Perhaps you can recite for us something you've penned yourself, if of course, that isn't too much to ask?" Clara butted in, Albert reclined back onto the sofa, swirling the brandy around inside the crystal tumbler.

"Hmm, that's a well put question, Frau von Goethe. I would have to say, Lord Byron, as well as Edgar Allen Poe. Although I shan't forget, Aleister Crowley. That is but to name a few. I don't suppose it could hurt to share one of my poems that I've set to working on as of late."

"Oh yes, please indulge us." Albert enthused, for he too, was a man that enjoyed art with a passion, therein, he raised his tumbler as a gesture to proceed. Casting a hesitant glance at Conway, Vera allowed a few moments to pass as she racked her brain for anything that sounded poetic. Then, she turned her gaze upwards to the ceiling and sighed, like that of a lover reclining against familiar, warm skin.

"And so, the time has come." She began, her voice as soft as the sound of snow falling,
"From whence the days bygone,
Leave us but to mourn.
Spirited away, is love lost.

Foolish mistakes we make,
left alone to face our own reprimand.
So, what is left behind, we partake,
in habits to soothe our aching hearts.

With pride crushed, one may turn
a blind eye. For when the time comes again,
there is naught left to lose. The tears,
that fall asunder, are cast aside in meaningless endeavours."

When she finished speaking, the pounding of her heart made her feel as if all could hear it. Yet, Vera put on a smile, and shrugged her shoulders haphazardly. "It still needs some work, as it's nowhere close to being finished." She added, feeling a bit uncertain herself over the choice of her words.

"How splendid! Such emotion in your words, Abigale. Take not to heart the words of your father, you are young still, and have many paths ahead of you in this world of ours." Albert raised his tumbler as if to express his astonishment.

"Ah..well.. thank you kindly." She managed to muster, reclaiming her cup of tea, she brought it to her lips, and turned her gaze away from Albert and Clara, instead staring at the taupe colored fluid before her.

"We've but a short time before our luncheon is served. If you would care to join us, I would love to show you all my favorite place in our home. My hall of curiosities. Abigale, when you mentioned Poe, it brought to my attention that you may enjoy the room as much as I do. Please, come. Conway, I believe you will recognize some items from your expeditions to Persia and Egypt." With that, Albert rose from the sofa, took Clara's hand in his, and bid them to follow.

@MacabreFox, approved.

Evelyn's sheet is historically authentic to me. I'm liking the link between her forced service for German hospitals and Persephone's abduction, and her deeds in torture and medical killing also play nicely into the "Queen of the Underworld" theme.


Huzzah!

Also, while I chose her code name as Persephone, I must have subconsciously remembered the tale of Persephone, because I was originally going for her being a "bright visage of beauty, like that of a warm spring breeze", but yes >:) I love that I did that.

I'll get this posted in CS tomorrow.
Please let me know if I have to change anything. I tried to be historically accurate as possible.

Awesome, I'll work her as a double agent then. I'm putting on the finishing touches now, so I'll edit that in.
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