An Interrogation

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Perhaps no one truly understood the vision or perhaps the perception Percival had; perhaps that was his curse.

Percival

"You were taught to never forsake that which seperated us from the other wayward, vagabond imitations, the lowlives, and the rot of this world. Your humanity."

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Claramae[/size]


Percival:Percival had been placed within a room for several hours alone. He didn't mind because he had a bottle of wine, and a glass to drink it from. He sat silently, leaning back in his chair as to not lean on the table; god forbid he appear lazy in the sight of his former master. He was patient, enduring, and nonchalant, everything she had made him. He, like Claramae, was a weapon of which there was no weakness. At least in fathomable comprehension. The only way, it seemed, that they could hurt Percival Vizharen would be by killing the man out right. Unfortunately, that was just not how things ran in their line of work. Percival kept a clear mind, relaxing even in the face of danger. He had not expected to get caught, but he factored it into the plan regardless. [d]

Claramae: "Discretion and poise, due diligence." The voice of the lady was crisp, conscice parlor ettiquete in the entertaining room of the subterranean damned. Two levels below ground and perhaps a heart-beat from hell she walked a floor of marble pitch enough to soak in a drop of wine or pint offered in due diligent sacrifice. "You have learned your lessons well. I am pleased." He was given a sweet wine because he had been given no water. Crackling voices were terribly annoying. In concordance with his station, she revived old costume when world above spurned. Yet, one could not imagine what else would be in store. "Yet you stand to be sufficiently educated in other arenas, my lord, for your silence. All things have places, all things in time. You elect poor times." (d)

Percival: ``I feel that I am at a stand still, your grace. Again, there is accusation stinging from your words as if I have done or completed something; and still, amused, I know not what. It must have been something of importance, from what I gather at least.`` He regarded her with a deep gaze of brown and a handsome smile. He raised his glass, finishing it with a polite indulgence. He could feel the nectar working itself on his nerves, making him relaxed. More than likely it was poisoned with something, but he had a tolerance of such things; not an extreme tolerance, but one worth mentioning. Again, he set the glass down and put his hands back into his lap where fingers clasped. He had been stripped of the personal arsenal he normally carried, and literally searched head to toe for anything that would aid him in escape. He was but a man in clothes before her. His eyes would never leave her own, making it impossible to see through his facade; not even the tell-tale gestures or mannerisms could be collected. What an over analyzing fiend in the guise of a social butterfly.[d]

Claramae: "I shall be frank, my Lord Vizharen. Accusation is cursory to proof. Proof is evident not in the plain. Yet, there is enough to beyond the shadow of a doubt collect you towards a hand, direct, or indirect, lone or among many, towards something in Avaria as to why the prince was taken. Now I have considered.." She deduced the matter at hand in a gown of the best sangria gone to fabric, becoming a shifting sort of crimson oil that bled small rainbows in the tiny bits of light afforded in candle. How could one make inquisition in setting so intimate, with candle and wine? All things have purpose, all things in time. "What that something specific might be. As a man of manyimpropmtu and spread agendas that incite either insight to your intelligance or the hints of an evident lunacy," The last was fact, not speculation. She believed him to be equal parts genius and equal parts deranged for it makes an aspired breed of intellect, "it will take too long to be methodical. With this I should tell you in prudence your beverage for the evening will begin now to anchor your feet." Like two boulders in a pool of tar. The nerves would begin to fire, then take a dreadful turn at a profound cold as if his feet had long since detached. (d)

Percival: He didn't seem surprised. He was more offended that she accused him of lunacy; not the fact that she'd just poisoned him. THAT was protocol, and he respected that. He had a profound look about him, even in this predicament, and he uncuffed his sleeves. ``Come now, your grace. Lunacy is outright. I prefer the term, spontaneous. It's a relative term that can be used both out of context and in. I find it, oh what is the word?`` He took a moment to ponder while setting his glass aside. ``..coincidental, or perhaps.. ironic as it seems you are running parallel with its preface.`` There was a creeping grin, and one that would unnerve even the strongest and most venerable of warriors. ``You are quite spontaneous this evening, your grace. I do hope this poison lasts longer than you tend to interrogate me. It would be most unfortunate for you, my lady, if it does not. Where as my pleasantries are warm hearted now, they will change should you have intentions other than taking advantage of me. But in this case, it would have just sufficed to ask me to your bed chambers. This .. is quite liberal, even for you, your grace.``[d]

Claramae: Offense raises ire, effecting a slight among of the body's chemistry. Still, composure remained unaffected for the master to find some token of pride in effort. Despite the twisted, horrid conclusion of the lessons one never lost respect for adherence to a convaluted, strange protocol only the elegant killer can fathom. "The correct term of address is merely M'lady, or the simplistic Baroness. Your Grace is reserved for the Duchy, the Bishops and Cardinals etc. Your elevation of my personage is flattering and oddly sweet of you." No line of face shift to suggest said pleasure. Now the poison began to creep up his thighs, burn his spine. It made the movements of his arms begin to getclumsy. His finges felt fat; sausages tied to knuckle joints. Could he hold the glass of wine, or was it that she plucked what was left away? It became painfully evident she was paralying only certain portions of his body. "Inquisition begin." Taking up a candle, she slid out of her cuff a thick, long bit of metal she was heating. She would leave in on a tray suspended above the candle to heat while she slipped on leather gloves. Once the medal was ready she kidnaped his defensive dagger's hand and on turning it over to reveal the sensitive flesh on the forearm, pressed the metal in and bound it. So went another plate to the front of his hand. Light singe of burning skin tinged the air, yet to the victim, it would feel as if the plates were embedded..oh yes..because they were spiked enough to lodge into the first two layers of skin, to burn just as deep. "I want what you know. I want to know why you are here, and what you are bartering for." The other hand was going listless..needless to say...the hand with the plates was able to feel. Fortunately she was still currenty kind enough not to impair or disfigure his rapier arm (d)

Percival: ``But your grace..`` He said, recalling several long lasting memories of her. He let her have the use of his arms while he still had the ability to move them. ``You are the Duchess of Darkness.`` His smile faded as he watched what she was doing. The hot metal against his skin made him take in a deep breath of air, the alcohol of the wine helping intensify that pain; but he did not give in. This was elementary, and he would be embarassed to do so. Instead, she was awarded a grin. ``You already possess this knowledge.``[d]

Claramae: "Oh? Then." His grin would be smacked from his face by the back of her hand connecting with his face to leave a stinging mark, then back the other way. Her tone slid a decipal down enough for him to denote it's purposeful flux. She did not relay emotion by face, but by subtle tone of voice he had heard before. The tone used as a man's life hung precarious ..what? "You forget yourself, and it is for me to remind you." The alcohol increased the loosness in muscle, causing the neck to overturn, straining the defensive posture's end all the more. In fact when it slung off to the side, she took hold of his hair and forced his head over. Without much thought, she tore away more shirt to reveal flesh from neck, shoulder, to upper arm. Another metal plate was applied for god they had been heating beneath the very table he sat at. A thin metal bar was taken and wedged down onto that arm! "You have become a derilect, insane. A thing. You have forsook that which was bade of you not to. You will tell me what it is despite knowledge out of respect and the importance of relinquishing your foolishness if you ever wish to see that thing again. Do you?" She left him that way, head tilted over, arms plated, serated and burning...before taking up one of her own stilletos, sharpened, and began to carve between the lines. She pulled off the plate at his wrist,revealing large, bleeding pools where the smallest holes had been. "Because what you have given away is not a man who would hold to nothing of import save power..." She spun his chair about with her foot, allowing him to watch as she untethered the binds of her own dress to reveal the purposeful garment beneneath. From a corner Bromheilde took the beautiful sanguine gown. "You behave as an animal. No clothes, no manners, nothing to elevate you. You are a dog, in a ruffed collar. Begging for scraps at tables while pretending to hold the dice in your hand.." She said this with a face that bent nor wanted not. Eyes with no malevolence. This is what was the most terrifying, malevolence that showed neither zeal for itself or disdane. (d)

PercivalVizharen: The burning was intensified, and she heard the deep intake of air, even as his head hit the table so she could rip his shirt. His shoulders started to buckle, and in her explanation.. he started laughing. It was nothing subtle. It was delirious and emotionally frightening. Amongst his laughter, his voice had hit a higher pitch, not drastic, but maniacally. ``There is nothing you possess that will break me eeetteeehee..`` He broke off into laughter again. `` was delirious and emotionally frightening. Amongst his laughter, his voice had hit a higher pitch, not drastic, but maniacally. ``There is nothing you possess that will break me eeetteeehee..`` He broke off into laughter again. ``Your words are empty, Claramae St Laurence. As empty as the soul you keep locked away from everyone.`` Laughter, and then a deep breath. ``You think that by telling me what it is you have shaped me into, you will somehow break into the vault of my mind! HAHA!`` No more laughter, just thick in takes of air. His chest expanded in a heaving motion. ``I am derelict because it was what I was meant to be. I behave like an animal because that is what I want you to see! I am not loyal because I was told not to be.`` His voice had lowered at the closing of that sentence, producing a feral growl. It was from this growl he began to laugh again. ``Do NOT speak as if you know me.`` Again he grinned, welcoming the next back hand.[d]

Claramae:"My poor, confused child. You see it is a reminder of my shape. What you are experiencing is your shape, possessed. maniacal. Proud. Oh so terribly proud. This here," she tore out the last of the plates before laying it on the table with pieces of his skin attached no doubt. The arm appeared worse than it was, entirely the point to be precise. Nothing without reason and all things in time. It looked like the arm would hardly move again, let alone promise of what it had been tought to do by the master who deconstructed it. "You were taught to never forsake that which seperated us from the other wayward, vagabond imitations, the lowlives, and the rot of this world. Your humanity." She let the world ring out, hard as the steel that clattered when it all hit down. "Be impassive, be unexpressive, be mute, silent, and efficient. Be numb, be still, of face and figure in order to be the door, the lock, with no weakness to be exposed. Yet within the confines of your brotherhood, alone, and with choice person paired to recall that which made you long before I ever came to shape you. I am treating you now as an enemey of the state, of the true state. You, Percival Vizharen should be no enemy of the state to which you upheld honor, one would dare say far higher in ideals than Talion. I bid him not allow you, he enforced, and you became as a moth drawn and I bid you seal yourself to remain yourself.THAT Percival Vizharen is the truth. You are ambigious and lost. You have possessed a face you keep behind a wrought iron hovel." She knew, of course. "Some would say you have long gone beyond reach. Only portions, not the crux. See you to what becomes of a true rogue?" She pulled back a curtain from what seemed a wall to reveal what had been her apprentice, Nairine. A woman cut, severed, and sliced into pieces being locked into a coffin for burial Even he, for all his wickedness, was not capable of a crime that heinous, intimate, and perverse. "That was Nairne. Was. What Talion refused to see but constantly pardons in you, providing no remedy is the same which I have shieldyou from for years. You are an anomoly. You are not a rogue in this art." He yanked the curtain back. "I trust that is a fate awaiting what you have left behind and in your arrogance you saw fit to end?""I will tell you what Talion has had no time to hear, or prays has not come to pass. There are those among the stewards keeping as vile as that, without a direction. So." The reality of it was protocol led to extremism, and she kept an oath made. Yet she was willing to help him, if he was but candid. Having knowledge did not mean having all pieces. His arrogance was slowing the process (d)

Percival His neck was on fire, not in the literal sense of course, but it felt it. Sweat had perculated about his brow and slid down the side of his face and neck. His expression had lessoned as he sat, still poised despite the injury. Percival listened carefully as she spoke, speaking of the evils to be, what he was, and would become should he continue. He was arrogant, yes; but far from stupid. In interrogation, they were trained to present only one recourse. This action was to force the [sometimes] false dilemna that there was only one way out. By stretching to extremism, there truly was only one way out. Claramae St Laurence would always be the master, and Percival the learner. She understood the intricate artwork that people were built upon. Like an artist putting layer upon layer unto canvas, does he not see just blotches? Or is it the whole picture? It was a mystery even Percival had never the patience to discover. But Claramae did. In her painting, actions; everything. She did not see the blotches on the canvas, she saw the end product. Percival found that he admired his old master, even if hating himself for it. ``Perhaps your words carry meaning.`` He said with a pained tone. ``What would you have me change, hm?``[d]


Claramae: "Always the quickest, most immediate ends. Only in seeing deep as to allow you the narrowest view. You must relinquish these things. " To watch the blood drip from the limb was to see it vanish on the floor. Was it a trick of the mind or did the marble truly do away with the improper saturation. Did the candle light diminish to half wick? Had they been so long as for those on the table to surrender a glow? "For if you looked farther, you would see that thetrade to which you enact is in peril for it not the Steward himself, than another would do what he sought not after it had left his possession. What you intend to return to fetch may not be, and what then? You could no more look on their face if such happened than look in the eyes of the woman you saved in the passages twixt the old land and this. Currently: what you have left behind waits for you. Talion will not put you to death, but pardons you time and time again, his wife prays for you in her daily routines, and I find you foolish but not without merit. " The poison was worse as it wore because he would be unable to move regardless. Who could, after that? Almost - beautiful, tender, were the hands opening a famed flat, polished case. A bowl of water was taken up, and slowly overturned on his wounds to begin the cleansing. "This is something. No, my dear. You were not meant for this, but you are here now, so it is better to proceed with sense." Only a master would deconstruct what it fashioned and assemble it better than thought to be left. Yet still working on other parts made gaping that out of his training he did not say outright and out of respect she did not repeat. "You must never speak German as a language of business for some time. Elect another in public." She cautioned him on error. In a city where she was a Master in an order established with portions of her impression, two languages were not safe outright in the city: German and Italian. "Secondly, eradicate your better German speaks, they will betray you, or may have, to the Steward of other motives. The man has survived several attempts on his life. You must expect business languages to be those of his past encounters." German, Italian, French. Spanish was safer. (d)

Percival: ``Are you suggesting that I have done business with the Steward or the men working in his entourage?`` He asked calmly, watching intently as she dumped the water over his wounded arm. He was quiet, regarding her hands as she tended to various aspects of tools and such during her speech. He was not broken; no. He was far from it. He recognized truth in her words and pushed aside the controlling reigns of pride to accept what could not be denied. He understood the antiquities and unique verses of her speech both underlying and up front. She would always be a puzzle for him, but he was much the same to anyone else who studied him. His eyes angled down toward the table, and for a long moment he thought on the humanity of the subject. He knew that his whole operation had been based around the primal instinct a father has, and even faced by the truth Claramae produced; he tried so vehemently to deny it. But cursed in such way limited his ability to distort, and there was no distorting the truth in this room.[d]

Claramae: "Yes, insofar as to damn yourself, if not further care is taken. Now..you will wish to move but do not, if you do you will bleed more." The ache to retaliate against stiffness would make his body scream to flex even a finger to prove it moved, but she gently held his down. Taking a balm from the box, she began to apply to his burns. "A true teacher imparts not only lesson by route, but in substance. They see they are learned. Percival, what you neglect to understand is that as I was taught, a true teacher does not abandon their students, and in truth the ascention of one is the ascention of the other no matter where they should find themselves." She had left Sorschal tosave him, and it cut him, deeply. While one of her former students was secure in his posistion, the other teetered dangerously to come towards death. Talion sighed and merely hoped he wouldn't. She gave him her hand to hold. As the salve was smoothed on, it began to cool. The skin seemed to soak it in so greedily she applied an extra layer before additing additives to numb areas in need of an able thread hand. "A human seeks forgiveness of another for such as this, do you understand?" She lay his arm across her lap, allowing his blood to touch her. No blood spilled on her that was shed in efficency, so the gesture was deep. To wear his blood. In effect, his faults to correct( d)

Percival: ``I can only forgive if the action is returned in the same manner.`` He replied solemnly. He let her do her work, not moving a muscle. ``I feel I must be frank with you then. Your assumptions of my business are only partially correct. It was my doing that Prince Apollius was abducted. It was also my doing that he is heading for the Isles of Avaria now to be made a trade with the Steward there. The trade is the safety of Commander Mancini's children and the liberation of her services to the Steward. My original plan was to free Mancini, collect her; then collect Saul again. Granted my course was a rough start; one may not always factor in such honorable appearences.`` He looked toward her as if to acknowledge that her visit was unexpected. ``But I intend to stick to my plan. But it seems more unexpected powers have joined in on the occasion, and as the saying goes-- I was caught red handed?``[d]

Claramae: "Granted. I appreciate this, for it completes the wheel of thought. I can not ponder such things slighted." The needled work didn't take long as it should have. Yet, it could be deduced that nothing was less than exemplifed within he women. Her primary use once was to have been the physician's intelligent assistant, not the assasin's apprentice. Turning toward him she would relay the useful piece of information, "Dear one, I live here. You should come to expect that I look where no one would want to nor can see. So you shall stick to your plain, and so now it is further understood." Next, she reached into the box for clean cut strips of gauze and muslin. "Do you do what you do out of any sort of love?" She asked a question that seemed off-handed. How would they be capable of that? "I do not blame you, if you do."(d)

Percival: ``If love were a thing I could understand; it would have been a lesson I overlooked. It requires the most stalwart men lower their shields, and makes the brightest minds look stupid. `` There was a subtle grin. ``Were it love, I wouldn't I?`` He posed a counter question. ``I do not feel anything toward the actions I have taken. I only feel that I acted out of.. honor. Commander Mancini has saved me before, I figured I should be inclined to return the favor.`` He seemed cold at first, but hopefully Claramae understood that Percival looked at things as if they were to be dissected and absorbed; like the chapters of a book. The knowledge must be broken down into lessons, bite size, so then the mind may devour them without choking.[d]

Claramae "As I have come to learn, it requiers a greater fortitude to trap emotion within logic than to dispel it. One exists not without the other. Were it could be placed to science, I should look at it with a magnifying glass." She favored him a ghost's smile left hanging by the tether longer than usual. Not cold, merely complacent to what was understood. The bandages were wrapped the entire length of his arm as she began to cut apart for his intellectual sup a fine puzzle. "Recall you Byrne House, and you helped me dispel a nasty contingent of sloppy, unclean hessians? You bid me leave, or at the very least come with you as a means of self preservation. Upon learning why, you rebuked the sincerity and seriousness." The arm was tended, hard to move but in far better shape than appearences led to believe. She passed him antidote to the poison given, and began to press upon certain points on his skin to allow the blood stir circulation for movement. "Well, I am wed to my lesson." Hiding the rings on a chain, she took them off to slide them back across the proper fingers. One never wore such tokens for ruin in interrogation. Heavens no.(d

Percival: ``Then I suppose congratulations are in order, Madame St Laurence.`` Percival did some minor movements to help the blood flow. He moved his toes, and let his legs straighten out. ``To this plan of mine; once it is started, there is no going back until Avaria is liberated. I will fulfill my vows as a Talon. As for the meanings of my impromptu motivations, I can only conclude that Apollius will have a well supplied army thanks to my efforts. My associates are rebel loyalists plucked from the very bosom of Avaria itself. They stand to fight for the Talons. I have..`` He looked down and smiled. ``.. never been able to explain my purpose. After what happened in Avaria with Juliet, since I was left to hang for that, I have never found anyone I could fully rely or count on. My motivations, my directions have always been my own, but never without direction. I was given the name Eight Gazes because it was in eight directions I held a precise objective. I thought eight possible scenarios out to one strategy. I killed Juliet Apollius because she was a traitor, but I never revealed that. I put myself in the places of betrayal because it was what I had to do. In order to save Avaria, I had to destroy it first. Give ground to fortify another stronger point...`` Perhaps no one truly understood the vision or perhaps the perception Percival had; perhaps that was his curse.[d]

Claramae"Madame Vincere St. Laurence, but it is not as if the second thing is less than true." If one was true Madame it should be with implicit wedded name. Detail was the devil. Her face proved impassive for a short while before her eyes shut with a short shake of the long, swan's neck. "You would have spared yourself such trouble to have but spoken truth. There are times we do, for a eason." Oh Percival Vizharen, no master of subterfuge are you, yet it makes you no less adored. (d[/font]

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Aftermath

'....how did he know, and how could we have been so [glow=red,2,300]blind[/glow]...'

Claramae: The way into the sanctum of black marble, walls, and dim candlelight couldn't be disterned if only because he could not place the pathways. What direction, how long did they go? Where did they turn, and did they stay on the streets or go below the stonework? The house, much like it's Madame, made precious little sense without first obtaining requisite keys to the kingdom. What had Percival gained? What had Claramae kept that was of value from the recess of strained mind? Pointless inquiry with poingnant conclusion was still known only by them. It would not be said as to when, nor how, but he would find himself recovering in a sumptious room two floors above where he had been. Sunlight slipped in the west. All that was dark were the shadows that come at night, not the ones they made a haunting metaphor. "Did you sleep well?" She asked, sitting down at the head of his bed with a pair of lamps hung on a post to observe the menting of his arm (d)

Percival: ``What is sleep?`` He asked, peering up toward Claramae. He hadn't slept, and the strain looked as it always had on him; red lined eyes and a pale face. His hair was dark, more so against the white of the pillows and sheets. The blankets had not been pulled over him, nor had he been undressed from the same, torn and ripped shirt. His blood stained in fact.-- The wound had bled through the gauze sometime during the night, but the bleeding had ceased. He was healing quickly. ``You look as if you could handle ``Well, there had to be some self satisfaction. Succeeding where others have failed.-- But you're used to success.`` There was no apprehension from him. He let her do as she pleased with his arm. He knew he was already living on borrowed time. The life of a criminal had taught him many, many things. Defeat still remained a subtraction of pride and rise in humility. Perhaps he was glad he had finally spoken with someone. But she never spoke a word of what it was he said. The truths uncovered; there was only margin for improvement. She probably expected the complicated strategy from him, and when he unburied it, she saw fit to remain his teacher and correct what it was he did wrong.-- Sighing. ``It is nothing of importance.``[d]

Claramae: "No, my lord, there was not. There is no pleasure derived unless it is deeply personal by way of offense. Our interulde was not so." She proved him right for a minute; the singing satisfaction he could bittersweetly derive from her seeing the surface broken into pieces she could fit together as she liked. Only a bit object to be replaced at whim. As the moment subsided more came into evidence. Nothing was said over his presented ideal until thought could be assembled. To say that it did not startle her would have been a falacy to which one knew the Lady did not lie. In the absence of further words she said, "No, what is it." Allowing him to backtrack for the pronouncing of a point was unorthodox, but then again she detested incomplete pictures (d)

Percival: ``Really. It is nothing. Simply a passing thought. You know? When this is all over.`` The movement of gauze stripping on his dried wound ripped some of the scabs. It was bleeding again, but very little. He didn't even acknowledge it had hurt him. He turned to look the other way, blinking sluggishly. ``I have exhausted my means of traveling, and most consider me an enemy of their country. I am sure the lady of Skye here would see me hanged. Avaria, much the same.``[d]

Claramae: "Then we must redeem you, musn't we?" She took a sponge to wipe away the blood and areas that were curing infection with red swells pushing pus. If she had not considered his truth than she would not think on his behalf. "It would not let you do to be disconnected from your body, Percival." The scent of her drawn near was rosewater, lilac, and tinctures of distant esteem. No, it wouldn't do to have family dying before they could discover the relevance of one another's life (d)

-.-.-.-.-

Claramae: In hissing spite he recieved her, in the same disdain he passed to sleep. Only when his eyes sealed and Claramae could see his eyelids did she pull out the documentation to read it. The parchments were several pages thick and aged yellow on the edges of where cream had once been. Ink seemed steadfast enough to endure the countless thumb prints. Smuggled documents had to be handled with care. To be earnest - the documents would not be going back to the original keeper. Neither in Rosefielding House at London, nor the Ireland castle. Not in any past court of residence nor in any place it ought be. Reclining back into a stiff-backed chair, shock produced the unorthodoxy of slump to slacken the rigid make of bones. The torchure, the questions had not made her sick. Burned flesh smell under ointment didn't turn the nose, but what she read clear enough made her stomach roll about as it hadn't in years. It was on suspicion. It was on a hunch to be follow that she had sent a requistion toward the Orkney Isles where governance of the Griffin proved so far reaching, olden documents had been kept close. A secret who's discretion leant itself to undiscolosed infamy -- but how did Talion know? (d)

Percival: Percival had stirred with the sounds of documents being at motion. His gaze followed the form of Claramae as she found the stern back of the chair. He read her expression carefully, watched as her hand went from steadying her stomach to blocking her mouth. His glance shifted to the door. Closed. Then the window. Brown eyes narrowed then, watching as the sliding forms of water slid over the colored pane. He shifted his glance back to her then. ``What have you found?``[d]

Claramae: "Out of respect for the dead it should not be spoken of, it should not be read."
She closed her eyes, swallowing hot, angry bile that had bubbled up her throat. The esophagus was burned.. enough to bring unspilled water to the eyes. He had never seen water in her eyes, but was not privy to a tear. The closeness of this was as un-nerving as the lack of age line in her face. "I shall say that I have been about to answer one quandry, and came across another." (d)

Percival:``I wish you would just be frank with me. I've little patience of playing your games this evening, Madame.`` He brought his legs about, setting his boots upon the surface of the floor. He stood, the sound of his clothes stretching and various joints popping. He made no face, but came closer to her to snatch the document and read it himself.[d]

Claramae: "Remember who's board you keep!" She stood upright, sending a hard hand across his face. Did he hold the paper's long enough to read them? Whatever it was had brought out an ire in Claramae - though beyond this moment it was not at him, but the dead. One party of the living whom now kept her roof so generously offered as well, and had the audacity to never speak of what he shouldn't know! "You are still mending of your wounds. Go back to bed my lord, I have work to see to." (d)

Percival: He weathered the blow without turning his glance, and caught her wrist there after. He had but a glimpse of the paper, and had hardly enough information to make the case. His calloused hand squeezed before he tossed the hand away with a scowl. ``My mending is quiet complete, my lady.`` He replied, his tone quite irritated with her. Eyes closed for a moment only to open and look her directly within her own. ``I would like to understand why you've grown so fickle all of a sudden. One minute your quaint, the next.. a raving lunatic going on about the dead.`` Glare.[d]

Claramae: "Than if you wish to leave this house peacably and in terms, you shall remember I am it's mistress, and door, window, wall, and floor do as I behest." Voice all but snarled in semi-placid make. It was injected with a tone of unusual flux. Pulling her hand back, she thought to find word to say, "Your parentage is false. Part of you lineage eradicated in a single stroke of ink my lord, as well as mine." She pushed the papers into his aching hands, enough to land him back upon the bed in a few steps. "We are siblings, my lord. By half." Half too much. Half too twisted. "Read you. Tis riveting.." (d)

Percival: He read the parchment, letting her hand go as she saw fit. He did not care for her rules in the household, all that mattered was this old parchment. His eyes followed the brilliant strokes of writing, and even with the heavy words, he admired the curves the letters made. Very welcoming, beautiful. He lowered the parchment, giving it back to her. His expression changed, but it was not of surprise; anger. ``He knew..`` Being his sister by half, he already assumed she shared the same thought that he did, and his glance, as well as her own.. was probably directed at that closed door.. soon to be opened.[d]

Claramae: "It was formerly in possession of the Priory..at Orkney, when it ought to have been in Ireland. I have spent a few weeks at this on a speculation, and in truth were it only heresay twould be the better..for him." The beauty of the pen and elegance of the seal, her father's seal...their- father's seal...was lost to her. The backs of her eyes burned with an unaccustomed rage. She was already walking the path toward the door without him (d)

Talion: He turned from her to look upon the table where a small knife was. She had used it in mending him. He kicked the under-side of the table, bringing the weapon aloft only to be caught by its handle and held within an astonishingly tight grip. His knuckles grew white as the fire in his mind expanded. The door was opened, and the space between he and her was closed. -- Apollo was in the study, staring out the window in silence. His arms were tucked carefully at the lower portion of his back.[d]

Claramae: "My Lord, will you look at me, tis a matter of importance."
She began a'usual, hands folded atop the skirts. Just above the waist and slightly below where the navel would be. Steps patterened in silence advanced upon him to be two feet away from where he stood at the window (d)

Talion and Percival: Apollo would bring himself to turn about, regarding the pair as they moved in. Aging eyes reaking of wisdom looked over the pair as their expressions were hidden, yet their eyes spoke with the anguish of betrayal. His hands did not move from the lower portion of his back. A terse nod was given as a show of salutations, but he didn't speak; just lifted a brow.-- Percival shut the doors, peering on the other side for eyes. When the doors shut, he slammed the knife into the locking mechanism, jamming the door shut. He turned as Claramae began to speak, and he came close behind her locking that dreadfully dark gaze with Apollo.[d]

Claramae: "Lord Vizharen knows I do not condone theatrics, yet in this instance that he would bind us all here seems oddly appropriate, despite his methods. Be that as it may - Why was it, my lord you neglected to tell us of our relation?" She came straight to the point, walking up towad the window where he glared out into the abyss. "You knew, and you neglected to say what should ne'er have come to your hands. Why? I await to see your reasoning on the matter.." (d_

Talion:There was a moment of silence that followed, and his hands unlaced to come in front of him. They expected some complicated answer from him, some inexplicable reason behind the momentary deciet, but even Apollo had surprises left up his sleeve. He drew the silence longer, breaking it with only a deep breath, as if preparing to plunge into the abyss blindly. He examined a nail upon one hand as he walked from them. ``Is it so misconstrued you would overlook the simplistic nature behind it all?`` He asked, stopping for a moment to glance up. ``The matter was of a delicate matter, one that would stir unneeded controversy. You have love for your parents, Claramae; as did Percival here. Who am I to stir such emotions? It was not my place or business to do either. I found it better to leave the crumb trails and let you find it on your own, should the thought ever be produced by either of you. I am surprised it took you this long to see the similarities each of you share.`` He said, continuing his observation of that nail.[d]

Claramae: "My lord..with all due respect, I beg your pardon." For the second time that evening and a first, Claramae's hand pulled back on one of sworn fealty, connected against his face, making it turn with a strength he knew she kept unsuspecting in those pristine hands.

"This is no mission, nor challenge. My life is not circumspect to your idle curiosity, nor should documents in my father's hand be in your possession. You should have given them to me immediately. Fortitude circumspects upset. We were not children at your inception of this news, nor are we now. Do not stand and speak so paltry. Bread crumbs is not akin to lineage my lord, and you would do well to remember that. And knowing my wishes - and this? It is rare I spend the energy in such things..but of current the sight of you and this document has brought illness. Whatever Lord Vizharen may say or do, tis his afair. But you treated the pair of us as pawns in your years nor sought to remedy such. That can not be abided." She turned from him and walked to the corner of the knife locked room, allowing Percival his words. That was the mildness. No, she would not cast him from her house. Nor would she cease to be o service to an oath. But he could feel the tendrils of discontent that yearned to do far more, with emotions being dealt with and the keen sense that he had violated her, more so than any time he'd pinned her to table in training. (d)

Talion:Apollo sustained the strike to his face, turning in favor of her hand to allow the blood to surface at his lip. In counter, nothing. He deserved it and he knew he did too. Adjusting his stance to take in the expected strike, his leg went wider so as to keep standing. He only readjusted when she moved away. Every word was burning, and it stung his heart. ``You are absolutely right.`` He replied.-- From the corner where he had stood behind his sister, he sprang. Much like the force of Claramae, Percival attacked like a snake. Fearless. His fist was balled up so tight his knuckles were white. He had moved forward and swung so hard it sent his balance off, a trait that was uncommon with Percival, making him appear the brawler. The strike hit Apollo so hard in the face, it sent the man forward and into a table where several books were knocked off. Apollo would slide from the table, favoring his jaw with a hand. Blood formed to his mouth and he sneered slightly, more in pain than anger, and stood up.-- Percival pointed a gloved finger at the man he called King. ``You're a son of a bytch. You god damn know it. `` Percival shook his hand out and stood as a buffer between Talion and Claramae. His very stance reflected that of late father Claramae may have or may not have remembered.-- ``Yeah, I deserve that too. Look, it was not my place to tell you. It was your father's. The document had a broken seal when it was given to me.`` He spit out blood and stood back up, using his sleeve to wipe his mouth. ``We all have secrets; even some you'd keep from me. `` He looked to Claramae. ``How was the wedding in England, Madame?`` His tone was sardonic, sarcastic even. ``I am not daft of feelings, nor would I use your ignorance as a weapon in my scheme of things. You both served diligently and willingly. I didn't force you too, you did so at your own accord knowing there would be things that were kept from you.``[d]

Percival: ``Well that still doesn't make it right, Talion. You should have told us. We've nearly killed one another. How would she live with herself knowing she killed her only brother?! Or ME having killed the only member of my family left?! huh?!``--

Talion:``It was a risk that had to be taken. It was why I had her train you. I knew she wouldn't kill her best student..``[d]

Claramae: "Do not begin..." she turned around to find Percival almost shielding her from Talion, as if he were not one to be worthy of her presence. Aye, her father had done that on many an occasion. She remembered him plain as the light glinting in the corner of the same eyes they both had. Talion was right - why didn't she notice it before? She put a hand around her stomach to hold the churning acidic contents down. The room began to spin, but she would not wear the fact upon her face. "Unlike you - I planned to announce our wedding. I would not shame my husband by secreting it, and we have held back enough out of our service and honor, and while all have secrets, there is a great many things your Talons have laid bare before you. It is more than...loyalty....it is...a respect. A deep, substantial respect that would even lend the like to agree with you, or bare witness, or follow you. I had lost one beloved master who was as my father, and all of ourselves at your feet we lay. My lord, you are a fool. You have no idea how many times Percival and I came close to killing one another, my student be damned.." The walls seemed to grow concave and convex in intervals. "My only brother was given up into my hands to be haunted! Knowing what was done to me, knowing what was done to him...you push, you push. My Lord the mark of a master is knowing when to retreat as well as advance, and we were both masters when we met, I only took you on as another because of my respect and devotion to you." She crept out frombehind Percival and open the window so that her face would not turn to a strained shade of gray (d)

Talion....Trust can turn at the last second. No. I am not your father. I don't baby the misconceptions and buried truths of a tormented or dark risque path of a family that is not my own. I am not shaken from the sacrifices made for a more bitter and perhaps just cause. I have no reason for keeping this information from you. I have no reason behind the momentary betrayal you see before your eyes. Perhaps, Claramae, Percival.. even masters are not exempt of mistakes. It was not my intention to mislead you or betray you. I love you both and I respect you both. But even in our endeavors, you come to truly learn about someone when they are on all sides of the card; enemy, student, hero, friend. You did not know that you were brother and sister, much less about each other. Your experiences now, more than ever, have made you closer. Claramae.. you know your brother inside and out now. You've been pushed to analyze his every move, his stance.. everything. Percival.. you've had to out run your sister, anticipate her movements. Think on her level and even compare your train of thought to her own. You've struggled and survived. Now with this knowledge coupled with what you've both accomplished.. well.. let's just face it. Love is an insatiably powerful ally.``-- Percival stirred for a moment and looked away; he looked toward Claramae and she saw his breathing steady.[d]

Claramae: "You have a marvelous strange way of showing your lessons my lord. While I do not disagree with your conclusions, your approach proved gamble that at any given moment, especially the yestereve of interrogation, could have gone to mis-step. Despite the truth of what you say, the admittance to your wrongness....should be clear. God, Talion," she actually utlized his real name! She shook her head as her breathing had subsided, but the regretable color in her face had not. "A family. Do you not grow tired of watching such thing be trifled with, as to trifle with it yourself?" If necessary, she needn't have the door unjammed. She sighed, shaking her head and saying nothing there after. "I still know precious little of what more to say than what has been said. It is redundant to repeat one's self." "Percival, if you please, unjam the door. I am not of a mind for the longer route, and need to move from this room to a vast quantity of open air lest I grow ill." (d)


Talion and Percival: ``Too all their own..`` Talion uttered, turning from them. He would be gathering his things to head to Avaria. He knew his welcome had been worn out.-- Percival lingered for a moment in clear contemplation. Twisting on heel, he took in a steady breath of air and gripped the dagger, yanking upward. The door was freed, and Percival opened it for her. He tossed the dagger onto the ground where it bounced noisily before rocking still. Before leaving, he stopped at the door to look at Apollo. He wanted to say something and looked as if he would, but silence kept him. He shut the door behind him and moved to follow Claramae, feeling a whole new responsibility take hold; he needed to comfort his sister..[d]

Claramae: "Do not hasten your exit. Despite what e'er has been done or said, it has been that. Done. Said. I do not renig my want for you to share my study, and shall continue to guard your family. My vows are permanent, and Avaria was as a home to me. " Upright to a fault, she allowed him to remain to wrestle with the air as he would like. It was not until she was some steps away from the study with intention of bleeding into the walls of Ebony Hall that she noticed still how long the shadow was. She could not stop until the air of the side gardens hit her face, cool, smelling of jasmine. "You are still here.." Her voice was not condescending or irratated, but calm, if not a little surprised. His master once, his sister now - her face was devoid of color. She genuinely looked as if she would have been violently ill to stay in the room (d)

Percival:``I have a new responsibility it seems. One that keeps me at your side even if you'd not hear of it.`` He said, his voice lighter and thoughtful. He took a seat beside her, unsure if he should try and touch her.. or if his words were comforting enough. His feelings toward Apollo were still mixed, but his thoughts dwelled on Claramae.[d]

Claramae: "You may stay so should it please you, I'd not turn you away. Especially not now." The bench was made of marble, cool, serene and permament. Unchanging. So too had been undeniable fact until fact proved able to shift on a whim. She looked at him with a pair of eyes holding no scrutiny, but appraising his uncertainty with an empathetic kindness. (d)

Percival:``I admire your understanding then..`` He kept his seat and reached for her hand. His hand was smooth despite the callouses, but no warmth could be taken from it. Like his countenance, it was cold. He looked away from her to look up to the window that hosted their leader within it. There was an audible sigh. ``And the world moves on in his eyes..``[d]

Claramae: "He is as terrible with unarguable instances as I reckon we are, despite my teachings to the contrary." His hand was the same as the wind in the air, the chill on her face. Still, it was soothing. She let her fingers lock through his as she watched the figure move about the study that was hers in a house he knew could eat him at but Claramae's word. She would never hurt him. A hand reached up to move up and down Percival's arm that was nearest her. (d)

Percival: ``It is hard to tell if he plans to look the fool, or if it is all an act for some underlying purpose..`` He glanced down to her hand, and the one running the length of his arm. He sighed. ``But I am glad I listened to intuition not to kill you.`` He looked down, watching the toe of his boot move slightly in the dirt. ``Hmph..`` As Apollo would say.[d]

Claramae: "He is contrite yet stubborn, while our reactions seemed to have pleased him, our continuance put him twixt the proverbial rock and hard place.." At his sigh, his word, she laughed softly, "It is for a blessing, isn't it my dear?" She actually let her head lull against his arm a moment. "Were that not so much time were lost -- I would have done right by you on his behalf. He is dead now, that is why I am the Baroness." She sighed, realizing how much like what melded them they were. Old circumstance. Upbringing. Even in so much as a part of them reflected the teachings of Talion, so he should know how much he resembled , "He would do as you have done. He stood between me and occasion time and again..I ..was moved, when you stood between Talion and I, Percival." (d)

Percival: ``Yeah well.. he's an a-hole. I hate and love the man, perhaps that is why he gives us no reason to favor only one dictation of his being.`` He shook his head and glanced her way. ``..`` He didn't know what to say to the last part, just remained quiet. There was some color that came to normally pale cheeks.[d]

Claramae: "It bothers him we loathe him at present, the hurt was not hard to see. He pulls for the human in us and walls when it is most needed. Fascinating." She looked to him and frankly asked "Are you alright?" (d)

'....with your heart bleeding in my hands, I may be...'

Finale

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Epilogue

``Tell me what plagues you. I'll be rid of it in the time it takes my heart to beat once.``

What plagued her - oh Michael - were it only that simple! Sardonic humor bubbled up inside of her mind in an attempt to spark wit.

[Claramae:: I have that lighter one made in case this one is taken, and my Garamond is back on this compy woo! "Percival, I need to go back within. There is a matter that needs to be discussed with my husband.." The white bench, cool night air, jasmine, and Percival were far more favorable than the expanse of Ebony Hall stretching around on all four sides of the private enclave. Nothing was as it appeared here from without, and it took a master to unravel the mysteries inside. For the first time she loathed a world she professed to like, a world wherein even humanism taught was not a lesson truly upheld. Place none on pedastools here! Glass shattered to unrepairable fragments; in a window stood a man whom one day would be forgiven, yet not now. To gaze on his outlight brought the feeling of illness back. "We will talk again soon." She placed her lips to Percival's forehead before slipping twixt the stair and wall to become like shadows in the search for Michael (d)

Vincere: Michael Vincere was not a hard man to find. Keeping to his solitude, the man was a vigilant warrior and appeared for mere tasks only to disappear once more. Since their marriage, he had been busy protecting the Lady Apollius only to return without the Commander's notice. He stood within their private chambers staring out of the window and into the courtyard. His eyes burned with a palpable fire that he wished would consume the dark frame that had been his enemy for several years. His hands were tucked to the lower portion of his back, and he forced himself to stand erect. He was unarmed, and barely dressed. It had been a long night, and Claramae had not come to their chambers.. -- He had seen some odd behavior shared between the two.. then she parted. He only assumed she was coming to look for him. He turned to face the door and waited patiently.[d]

Claramae: God be praised the blessing of a simple husband for a less than simple wife. While he turned to the front door to view the entrance, he would hear the soft clicking of lock mechanisms from the side of him complete with a tiny white hand sliding through the crevice to pull the mirror forward as she pushed from inside. A servant's passage? To effect. Bromheilde had ways, when necessary, of avoiding the front doors when a glimpse to what she was privy to was to be avoided. Yet it was more complex than one hidden mirror passage, for their suites had at least three other doors! Elegance was born of the dark, but how embittered it looked! Claramae's face had undergone emotion's display more often of late with the stresses of cases and countries growin more profound, but to look as if the color drain had lasted more than mere minutes was utterly unusual. Despite the recover of self, here were no blossoms to the cheeks. A sick gray to the skin. A hollowed out place in eyes where rage had burned to nothing. " " Husband.." she canted her head, curtysing before rising. It was her usual greeting now, save she paid it oft with a smile for using the word. Now it merely looked as if she were steps away from fainting (d)

Vincere: ``Wife..`` He replied just as quickly, bringing his head to lower with a nod. He did not speak when he looked up for his eyes roamed her face to look for the usual expression which escaped her. His brow perked slightly, and he closed the distance between them reaching out with his hands. ``Are you well? You look ill..come.. sit.`` He was not a master in the ways of health. Was she supposed to look this way? Or? It was Percival! Damn him. Michael's thoughts ignited, and the only thought he had rested upon his sword.. a visage of his blade wearing the crimson of Percival's blood on it. ``Tell me what plagues you. I'll be rid of it in the time it takes my heart to beat once.``[d

Claramae: "I had not thought.." she murmured, taking a aglance in the sealed mirror-door to find that she looked a shade of what she had been prior. Before she could sway, she captured his hands to be led to a place of rest again. How hard was the world reeling for a walk from garden to suites to beat down on her? What plagued her - oh Michael - were it only that simple! Sardonic humor bubbled up inside of her mind in an attempt to spark wit. "Michael it is not as you think it is. This is nothing that can be ended. I had...there was something Percival had said once, something Talion once heard never spoke on. I have been researching, and ....what I discovered is this: My faher had been in the Tresserhorn some yeas ago, and conceived of a child wih a woman who was not my mother, and twas never known to me, nor my mother...or if she knew, she forgave him his one indiscretion. The documents of the child's birth and parentage, what he would be provided were sealed and placed in Ireland, under the seal of the Irish house, not the English. Percival is my brother by half! Talion knew the entire time....he kept the documents, when I found them, they were not in Ireland at the castle but in Orkney with the old Priory! He knew.....I, did not expect for the shock..the hurt, the..anger..to be as it is. I apologize for my appreance," the whispered hint of traditional subservience would have astounded an on-looker, but she loved Michael, and afforded him the respect a husband was due. "I..have been physically ill for many hours, and on confronting Talion, oh such rage..and foolishness. WHY did I not see this before.." She held her stomach to keep the contents down again, shutting her eyes as the excitement stirred the unwanted. Their hair, their eyes. Their statures. Their minds. "And he knows...Michael..he deduced the nature of our marriage before I could tell him when the interrogation was finished. God -- there is so much..too much..." She held her sides harder, doubling over (d)

Vincere: Michael's gaze seemed to shake within his sockets as everything began to cave in. He immediately felt overwelmed and surrounded by guilt. He turned away from her, letting his gaze fall to the floor as he felt it water. He wasn't sure what was more upsetting; Talion's betrayal, Percival being a St Laurence, or Talion knowing they were married! He took in a deep, quivering breath and ran his fingers through long blonde hair, tugging back as if to release the tension built there. His jaw seemed to lock in place for several moments as the room grew quiet save the gentle whistle of wind from the window. ``I am unsure..how to react. I am.. overwelmed by it all..``[d]

Claramae: "I am sorry, Michael, I did not know. God help me I did not know. Had I known --" What would have been different? Would the course still have happened, only a love that could not have been undone? There stood now a trio ofperhaps three of the most imporant men in her life, two of them broken, one of them seeming unrepentant. "I was going to tell him after I told him of what I learned during the interrogations..I did not even have a chance to say thatOh God! I need to tell him before he goes.." Loyalty to him to not allow him to sail off unawares - but what of to them? "He took the Prince to exchange for Commander Mancini and the children, with intent to return for him and all. He killed Queen Juilet when he found her to be a traitor to her crown and her husband, dismantling his reign before his very eyes! He BECAME the loathed thing in order to do..I told him, I told Talion what would become of him Brilliance on par exellence, a haunted soul. he was still the man he had been once, for he wouldn't let Talion touch her, nor look at her, during the argument. He claimed he was not unfeeling but what if he had known his beloved Ambassador had loved his Leiutenant? He would have redressed them severly, and Michael still stood to see his service be disheartened. Talion was a good man, but held too many lives in his hands, unknowing of what to do with them all. "Oh Michael." Her head went collect into her hands, and for the first time tears that would not spill fell in a rage. She loved her husband as she loved all of them - fiercly, devoted, eternal in loyalty. The slap that bled Talion was nothing to what he had done to her heart, and to know what she had inflected on Percival...and her husband's shatered world (d)

Vincere: Michael was still without words. In his world, everything he had worked vehemently had crumbled through his hands, yet.. he looked up. With watered eyes, he regarded the woman beside him still buried within her own emotions, and reaching out.. he touched her. ``Claramae..`` He said, his voice barely his own. He was ashamed to let her see this weakness of him; but together they had suffered countless hardship, and she had earned her right to see him to the truest tendril of his soul. His hand lightly grabbed her arm and worked its way to mesh with her fingers. ``I love you.. we.. can.. work.. through.. this.`` That took everything he had to say. He forced the hate aside.. for her.. Percival was saved. Truly Eight Gazes ahead that one..[d]

Claramae: "Michael?" She looked up when he called her name and saw a man who pulled back the hard layer of silence to be no better than she. Often, he was the first. He had cried when injury had broken their bodies and he could not fathom the means to her objectives. He raged with her, fought with her, and had loved with her some two years only for their happiness to be challenged yet again by what they couldn't change. His touch made her brow furrow as she struggled to understand that he would still want her the sister of Percival - the attack hound of an old king. He would have found her humilitated but instead she gave in to the need to lean into the hand going through her hair, clutching to his own blond strands as her tears fell on his cheeks. Percival was spared by a piece of old irish paper and a secret. "I could not live without you." she whispered a secret of her own, far sweeter. Her arms went around him as she inhaled the scent of his skin. Talion could not take him now, nor could he ever take her from him. He could blame himself if he chose to. It was him that manufactured their reunion in Germany (d)