Fires Are Burning (Open)

[Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont]

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in.
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become

Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?
~Coldplay

The smoke made it hard to breathe as the fires burned, but the pirate pressed on. He heard the cries as clear as the bells in the distance. The clocks chimed their last call of the night, to rock the city to sleep in the cool evening air, and the fires burned the flesh off the lives lost in decay. They felt nothing, their bodies could not register pain, but somewhere in their blank eyes, he could see they knew their death came with the flames.

In moments like this it made him realize how much of a callous bastard he had become. Lives were lost, of hopeful youths taken by sickness and he could watch with little effort.  He had hardened until he felt nothing.  How little he cared, until her..amazed the stars, but on this night even they could not grin at the twilight.

“You have come along way, boy.” A voice broke the silence, the click of her heels came first. Yet the smooth purr of her flesh whispering against his own, as a finely polished hand came to brush his cheek. Peregrine felt his heart run cold, and still within his chest. His hands came to relax ready to draw a blade within any given moment. Her name was Ana.

“And you have come here...” The blue in his eyes had always captivated so many ran right through this woman. Hers were like fire, green in color but burning with the power of a hundred emeralds cut precisely. She tore through him, the flame against her lips curling into a smirk seeing that her touch held little effects, “Why?”

“Mmmm,” Her hands came then to touch his hips sliding as she walked around him, but the pirate would be quick to pull away, knowing at the tips of her fingers a thousand deadly poisons would be the least of his worries. The bull whip around her rounded hips would be top upon his list; the spike on her boots would be the next.., “Watching you make a mistake.” The words hanging from her lips like bait upon a hook. Peregrine would take the line.

“Mistake? Ha. You really never did know me well, hmm?” He turned to face her his own hands coming to circle her hips, swaying as she did..this deadly minx known well through the crime ring, but particularly his. A thief she was, and a damn good one. “Would this happen to have anything to do with why you attacked one of my men?”

Her laughter was irresistible, falling from her lips like velvet over his spine. It made him feel as If the heavens opened, but more importantly he made him feel closer to hell. The sound echoed down the streets as she turned in his arms pressing her back to his chest letting her hair tumble over one shoulder, swaying just so,“Perhaps.”

With a deep inhale he took in her essence the pure radiant life that came from danger, the thrill of the life he was slowly leaving behind. Upon her neck she smelled of rosewater, but the leathers she wore were perfumed with the scent of the sea. In the motion of her chest heaving with each breath he could almost hear the sounds of the waves hitting the harbor, the gulls sounding off in the distance. Peregrine closed his eyes touching her cheek with his own nuzzling the smooth surface gently.

“Come home to me.” Her hand came to brush through his hair, lacing through the blonde strands that were so familiar, “Second star to the right.” She whispered then, her lips pressing against the tender flesh under his ear, trailing down the line of the thick pulse rushing under his skin, and with that a small sound escaped his lips by ways of begging for more. Her lips returned to his, never once touching but daring—the warmth of her breath against his face, cooled easy in the evening air, even with the fire burning behind them.

Peregrine let his hand touch her hip, his lips lingering on her own while his free hand came to collect the dagger behind him, and placing it firmly between her breast, “You are not here to make me come home..”

“No..I'm not.” She grinned holding up her hands and biting her lip to hold back her laughter, "But you started it," Ana teased pressing from his blade knowing she had him from hello, but she was not what he wanted..but an answer.

“Did not.”

Silence then if only for a moment as the fire blazed higher, reaching out to the sky in open arms and soon sounded in it's explosion as the glass burst behind them. Peregrine turned then his eyes wide as the fire spread out to the next building as if walking a thin line between each solid structure. “What did you do?!” He cried out following the lines with his eyes as the lantern oil lit from house to house, and the screams of those inside cried out into the night. It was only supposed to be one house, that was all..all those past the point of return were to die. Jean-Claude would have been hunted and killed had they been exposed. Not this. He brushed past her, seeing the doors sealed, chained..it was a trap.

“Still gonna keep it from me?” She called out after a moment, her hands coming to clasp behind her back as she watched him start to break in the first door. “I want your secret, Peregrine. Let this be my proof I am not to be trifled with.” With that she would slip away, back into the shadows, down the streets where a man waited to make the next move.

[Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine]

The Underdark had been quiet, too quiet with the departure of Jean-Claude to the city, and Peregrine to the South. The days had come and gone, while the city grew under the feet of the rest of the world. Disease spread like weeds, killing off what was left of the roses. With the return of the pirate the door had been cracked open upon the lives lost, and the light spilling from the hall would soon be their doom. Lantern oil filled the breeze as it spread over over the stone streets around the bases of homes. Men, women, and children lived their lives inside these homes, at once it was of peace, but now it was only suffering. Jean could not fix it..none could fix it, and for this Peregrine was going to burn it.



His lean fingers curled, ready to knock on her door, and then straightened. He could not bring himself to do it after their last conversation. Somewhere between the cheese plate and the fruit, he had realized something very important about Ada. She had an opinion. Oh, of course he had known she was opinionated. Ada and the king had argued nearly every waking moment of the day, and when she tired of Valois, she turned on him. But never had she expressed any desires for her future, until he tried to hold her hand and convince her he meant only the best. In a year, the crack that split between them in Honfleur had somehow widened into a yawning chasm, and he was gentleman enough to know it would never be mended. He curled his fingers again, then sighed. No, he was not going to knock. He turned and stepped lightly down the stairs. Curiosity sent the gears of his mind churning, and it wasn't long before his footsteps gave his thoughts the direction that had been lacking. He wanted to know about this man she was with. Or at least, one of them. When he asked, they only spoke of the Underground, and he ventured forward, rather stupidly, into a place any sane man refused to tread. And it was here he observed the desolation of this place, this odd neighborhood Jean-Claude had been trying to desperately to cure. He was not there long before he turned and fled back for Ada's shop, previous misgivings fleeing as he pounded on her door. Despite her bewildered expression, he slid inside muttering his apologies as he went.




Jean-Claude worked well into the night, and after Ada's comment fixed him a pair of focal's to rest at the tip of his nose. It made the stitch so much easier in the dull light, and him not to make the mistake of blue one more time. Dressed down this evening, in a simple white tunic--black pant, he watched his hands tremble as he knew well the evening would simply not be in peace. The thoughts of his work plagued him, and it was not of fine fabrics or silk gowns. He thought of his pet, wondered how it was she liked having his old lair all to her own. He thought of his subjects, and sighed..work would simply have to wait. He had hoped the vacation to fashion would have been his escape, but he feared it simply was not his calling. Knotting the thread he put the needle into the garment at let it be across the table, and in a single motion rose from the table. In the back of his shop, there was a secret, a door that lead to a set of stairs, with triggers waiting for bells should the front door be opened. Here he would climb to the roof where a glass dome would house his small study. A home away from home if he must, where every object of his lab was displayed..only smaller versions.


Ada backed to the other side of the room, arms folded across her chest in a clearly defensive manner, her eyes narrowed in blatant skepticism. That is, until Ghislain began to speak of the ghost town, and a distinct smell of lantern oil. "Stay here," she told him. "No, don't stay here. But do not follow me." At his shocked expression, she shook her head. "I mean it, d'Armagnac. You are not wanted here, and I have already told you my answer. This is not something I am willing to do." He set his hand on the door knob, to the outer set of stairs she had been aiming for until he stood in the way. "You are going to do it for him." Rather than accusing, his tone was melancholly. His expression was saddened, and if he wanted this for personal gain, : he was not going about it in the way she expected of him. There was nothing preventing him from taking what he wanted. There never had been. Ada didn't like saying no to anyone. She pulled the edges of her shawl closer around her shoulders. She lifted her chin. "Yes. If he asks." Then she left through the indoor set of stairs, bouncing down the steps and out the front door. She made her way quickly toward Jean's shop. *


He felt her on the wind, her name whispered long before her arrival or the bells at the door sang out in chorus. "Mon chatte,..I am here." He called down knowing she knew the way. His heart told him she knew a little of all of him. It was nothing glorious, but it was enough. This was as well where he slept, the sounds of the water flowing through the thin glass tubes had always been a lullaby to him. The small coal furnace kept all a light with small embers warming the water. "The air has grown very chilly, Ada, I do hope you have a cloak." He spoke dropping a bit of something in one of the filled goblets--a mad scientist burning bright. "You know I have come to realize that perhaps I should have something to eat. Have you come to remind me?" Finally putting his head back to look at her, black hair spilled over one shoulder, but it was his eyes that fell the most. His entire form sang from the inside out, "What : is wrong?" He rose quickly to close the distance between them and take her in, "You are flushed. Are you not feeling well?" Motioning her with his hands he would guide her towards the bench by the windows, clearly worried.

The absurdity of his welcome nearly made her burst into hysterical giggles, but she maintained her composure, hugging him quickly but ignoring his series of questions as she grabbed his cloak and held it out for him. There was no way she could help him don the garment with their difference in height, but she made sure he took it. "I am flushed because I ran here. Ghislain tells me something very odd is happening in the Underdark. And it smells like ... lantern oil." She did not like to chase away the Jean-Claude she had found working away so industriously in the candlelight. She liked how happy he had sounded, with his long to-do list and scientific experiments bubbling away. "No, no, I do not want to sit down -- we need to go. We need to go to the Underdark. I do not like -- " she took a deep breath and stilled her words. She didn't like the way she sounded, fear edging her voice, and little filter between mind and mouth. So she just shook the cloak at him, insisting he take it so that they could be off. *

"Lantern oil? Perhaps one o the posts have a leak, Mon cher..let us not jump to conclusions." He pulled the coat on pulling his gloves from the pockets and pulling them over the scarred flesh of his hands. "What was Ghislain doing there? He would have no reason." Leave it to Jean to figure out a strange new truth. " Following her out into the streets, the scent of the smoke was too fresh to be anything less then a fire. The black thickness lofted through the streets with ease, and it would be here he would start to hurry. The entire city was in panic as all the kings horses and all the kings men came rushing with buckets to start a chain from the river. They cared very little for the world they knew nothing about, but how the fires lit the back of the entrance, the large mask with glowing orbs seemed too perfect to be in flames. The knights around them smirked, speaking of how it would never touch their city, an act of God! They had come to wash away the mortal sins of the underworld. Jean-Claude stood there in shock, his smoke colored eyes glazed over, and he held Ada tightly. "M'lord..the people?" He finally spoke out to the knight, and the man would only shake his head. Not even the gypsies..none had been seen. (d

Ada wanted to go to the Underdark about as much as she wished to saw off her right hand, but she went, holding Jean-Claude's gloved hand in hers. "I do not know why that man does half the things he does. But of whom do you suppose he is most jealous?" This was the simplest answer she could afford, and it was, in fact, the truth. She knew Ghislain well enough to understand he would never leave her in incapable hands. Ren was no mystery, Gauthier was dead, and the only enigma remaining in her life was this scientist. Who had, until recently, lived where those flames were burning now. "Is it an accident?" She looked up to Jean-Claude for an answer. Was it coincidental? As a cure became more difficult to find, was this blessing or curse? Who remained living here? She hid her face away, unable to keep looking toward the flames. She couldn't voice any more questions, either, the smoke causing her eyes to tear and her throat to close so that her breathing became labored. She coughed and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress. *


He held tightly to her shoulders unsure of the answer, unsure of anything in this moment other then he wanted her away. "I need you to do something for me, and I need you not worry." He held her shoulders with his palms forcing her to keep forward and away from the fire. "I need you to find Rosalind, and see if Pere' is with her. If he is not..you say nothing of this fire, but if she worried be her calm. Let me find out what I can." And venture down into his lab, the back way of course as it appeared the front would be far too hot. "And I want you to detain, Ghislain.." A deep sound escaped him then, words like rolling thunder as eyes darkened to a pitch black. Fury rose up behind his eyes and the blame had already been set. (d

[Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont]

“It is spreading too fast, Mon Ami, I beg you..we must retrieve what we can.” The frown there upon thin lips was enough to let Peregrine know how serious his companion was. Jean was not the man he was, he was more. He would have fought tooth and nail to free those in their homes, worked his brilliant mind over ways for them to escape, but when it came to his work; little else mattered more.


Peregrine heaved a heavy breath, the heat of the flames matting his curls to his face, and he gave a slow nod—defeated. Rosalind, would be so disappointed in him, but the pair shared the don't ask don't tell. “It's Ana.” He spoke then moving in to follow his companion whose features flinched little, but the concern weighed heavily upon him. Jean-Claude knew what she wanted. He knew this woman was vicious and very good at getting just that. “She must know we got the machine on.” Pere continued as they started down the long halls of the labyrinth. “We will need to protect Ada.” He spoke then turning to face Jean who was clearly already working out a plan in his mind.


Once they reached the hall that lead to his lab, the water trickled very little as it was dry season, and even this had him chilled; They would never get the fires out. “Ada, will need to leave the Isle. I will sneak her out, perhaps send her to England if only..” The world went silent then as he pulled the door only to be met by the force of an explosion. The boom shook the entire corridor and forced the pair back. In his defeat, Jean moved to his feet fast to only realize the roof that had always been unstable, suddenly started to collapse. His heart left his chest to pound in his throat, and he turned to protect his captain. Taking the force of the blow, and now shielding the pirate as the world fell around them, their friendship had never been so easily defined.


In the next moment, everything was a blur for Pere, but once the sound of the rumbling rock came to an end he could taste the iron in blood, feeling it drip over his lips. It was not his own. This had all been a trap—and now he was trapped under the one who could possibly figure a way out. “JC..” Peregrine could hardly breathe, for one so thin still weighed enough to force the air from his lungs. He could see nothing, it was pitch black, as dark as the depths of hell for this he was certain. The child of the trees was too far from his sun. The one free hand would snake his way, feeling for the source of the blood, finding it heavily pooling in Jean's hair, and with ease he would support his friend's head as he rolled him. Pulling the shirt from his back he blindly replaced it under Jean's neck. He was breathing, this much he could tell, but little else. Pressure would be applied where he felt the blood rushing to the surface, and his eyes would scan the darkness for any mean's
of escape.

[Adelaide d'Aquitaine]

"And I want you to detain, Ghislain.."

Ada nodded. "I can do that." She looked over her shoulder at the fire, then back to him. His face told her not to argue, but it was the chill in his eyes that made her take a step back. He was no fool, but Ada could not resist the need to keep an eye on him. What if he did do something completely out of character, and she lost him? She had a feeling she would not get him back again this time. There would be no reunion ten years in the future. She pressed her knuckles to her lips, then turned and ran off toward the castle. There were benefits to always saying what was on her mind. It meant nothing was ever left unspoken. She could leave and have no regrets.

She found Rosalind, but not Peregrine, which was at once frustrating and a relief. She never had anything decent to say to Peregrine, but at least, if she knew where he was, it was one less person to search for, and one less soul Jean would be concerned about. Rosalind, to her credit, did not seem particularly worried by Peregrine's absence. "He always has business elsewhere. If I worried about where he was at every moment of the day, I would go mad," the lady succinctly put it. Assured by Rosalind's confidence, Ada thanked the lady for her time and left promptly. Castles made her uneasy, and Rosalind was not exactly the person to change Ada's opinions. She was as hospitable as an iceberg, that woman. Or perhaps she, too, had many things to worry about, and taking care of one petite apothecary dressed like a slattern was not a priority. Ada could understand that explanation.

She walked back to her shop and climbed upstairs. Ghislain was asleep in her bed, having never left as she had asked him to do, so Ada tossed more fuel on the fire and took a seat at the hearth, feeling like the corner where her altar usually stood was disconcertingly empty. Perhaps the heat roused him. Maybe it was the squeak of her chair when she shifted to grab one of her books from the nearby table. But Ghislain was suddenly awake, sitting in bed and staring at her with dark eyes. She had forgotten how oddly handsome he was, and frowned that the reminder had to come in her bed, of all places. Ghislain inhaled deeply and looked toward the shuttered windows. "The city burns," he said softly, his nostrils flaring slightly. His dark eyes were concerned, if puffy with sleep.

"Parts of it." She set her book aside. The firelight flickered across her exposed skin, heating flesh still colored from the summer sun. The woman used passion like one of her tools hanging on the wall downstairs, but now she set it aside, and stared accusingly at her former lover. "Ghislain, what were you doing in the Underdark?"

"Do you come here," he joked darkly, patting the empty space on the bed beside him, "and I will tell you all."

Her crude response brought laughter. He slid out of bed and took the other seat beside the fire, leaning back and closing his eyes in contemplation. She briefly pressed her hand to her mouth to wipe off the grin that wouldn't disappear, no matter how serious her accusation had been. He knew nothing about her except her deepest secret. And she knew everything about him, everything of value kept locked inside her heart. She was rarely very serious, unless she was keeping secrets. She did not know what would happen to him, but she swore she would do her best to protect him, short of telling Ghislain to flee. She kept her lips pressed together, failing to trust herself to act appropriately. She could betray him in so many ways, and his laughter warmed her with welcome memories. They had laughed so much together, once upon a time, in a land far away from here.

He cracked an eye at her and smiled slowly. "We have been through so much, my dear. I would not leave you in the hands of a lunatic, nor in those of a barbarian. If they cannot be mine, I would not begrudge you another, if they are worthy of holding what I once held. I think I am a very good judge in these matters."

Ada laughed softly. "I make it a point not to compare my lovers." Even imagined lovers; Ada did not often correct rumors involving her bed. She eased her way out of her chair and picked up her books, sliding them into their respective places on her shelves. Her hand lingered on the spine of the last book, her short but lean fingers looking much lovelier in this forgiving light. Without looking at him, and slightly squaring her shoulders, she opened her mouth to speak. "Ghislain, how is he?"

"Ah, the wench has rules," he teased. He stood up, and thought about approaching her, but she was pricklier than usual. Her lovely mind was busy turning over each and every stone in her world, and as usual, she missed what was closest to her. "I do not know. I was banned from court." Bitterness tinged his voice, but time had faded that wound. He joined her at the shelves, watching her hand; it was easier to focus on than her face. They both carried guilt. It manifested in so many ways in their lives, but Ada was no courtier. She held secrets, yes, but it was obvious when she knew something. "It is a long story. I think I have time to tell it tonight, if you would like to h--"

The door swung open. Neither had heard footsteps on the stairs outside, and Ghislain grabbed Ada so quickly, all she saw was a human-shaped mass of shadows. In his other hand, he held one of her candlesticks taken from the mantle. "You were not supposed to come here," Ghislain snapped, and brought the candlestick down hard on Ada's head. She tasted iron in her mouth, but oddly, felt no pain as she hurtled into unconsciousness, with a single confused note of "Who?" before blackness swallowed her whole. Ghislain angrily threw the candlestick aside, where it rolled across the floor and wedged itself in the legs of the chair he had recently abandoned.

"I was to leave you here to be tortured?" the woman at the door asked, nonplussed. "I did not figure you to be a man so distracted by ... that." She pointed at Ada, awkwardly held in Ghislain's lanky arms and resembling nothing so much as a puppet with her strings cut.

"We all have our peccadilloes, no?" he replied dryly, but he let Ada drop to the floor, and stepped dispassionately over her body to make his exit. "Hurry. She is never alone for long."

[Adelaide d'Aquitaine]

Momma Fortuna: A frail body made her way down the rows, the tip of her twisted cane came across the stone streets in an eerie knock against silent night. The fires had been deafening, the explosion shook even the trees. The entire day, the old Gypsy watched the fires until once again the night drew down it's darkness, and she pulled with it the moon. Charms could not protect her people now, only prayer and this was why she sought out Ada. Every soul in Skye worked to put out the flames until all that remained of the darkest part of town was another kind of void. A small creator had been carved from the hillside where the waterways met the sea, and a once brilliant mind called home. Momma Fortuna, whose name came from the moon, was often called Luna for a variety of reasons, but she would only reason with one. "I have come to seek what I cannot find." She chanted in the words of a crazed mother, but the pains in her chest were too strong. Her breath was labored from the trek, as she cursed along the way she should have driven her ass, but even he felt out of place in this part of town. The hobble of her step made her appear the goblin who tainted the dreams of lost children, but it was her single eye that glared out while the other seemed far too small to be it's match. Her long hair was braided down her back, and perhaps should you brush it spiders and mice would be forced to find a new home. She searched for Jean's shop, having no trouble picking out the fancy Frenchman's designs, knowing well had he been home..or alive..the warm welcome light of his finery would be running through the streets in a river of gold. Her reflection against the black windows caught the light of her eye, the one that saw into the future the one that drew down the moon. What a sight this was, for what appeared to be an old beggar stood outside a rich man's store. Turning with defeat the dark pupil of her eye fixed upon the distant street that held light, Ada's...it seemed a thousand feet away for a woman well beyond her glory. With all the junction of fine lined horses she would force her first step, only to have the rest follow on steps like horses put out to pasture.

Ada: Ada's worry expressed itself in strange ways. Yet alone in her shop, there was no one to complain about her long hours in the garden, or obsessively poring over the herbal books in the apothecary. She found the work just tedious enough that she stopped paying attention to the door, and the shadows moving from one direction to the other denoting the passage of time spent without word from Jean-Claude. Night, however was another story. She moved from one place to another in her shop, dissatisfied with whatever she put her hand to, and with nothing to distract her save the occasional horse's hooves sounding on the cobbles on the street outside. Perhaps it was someone she knew. Without fail, she checked each time, her head bobbing between the two bright blue shutters long enough to assess that it was no one she cared about. She could do nothing on her own, but it did not prevent her from drawing her makeshift altar in chalk on the floorboards of her apartment, and trying anyway. It left her feeling exhausted, it made her head throb and her heart pound, so after the first few tries, she merely sat in the center, assuring herself of how ridiculous she was being. Ghislain would come back. She would let him explain his actions and she would forgive him. She forgave everyone, even when they did not necessarily deserve it. So would Jean-Claude return. Both men had a history of surviving fire. They would do it again. She began puffing out the candles in her apartment, but before she snuffed the last, she opened her shutters one last time to look out on the quiet street. Fortune indeed smiled upon the old woman, for Ada saw her slowly making her way closer. She took the last candle with her down the outside stairs, forgetting her shawl on the peg by the door as she went to greet the old woman.

Momma Fortuna: There was not a smile of her lips, but a crazed looking twist of a thin almost black lines, "Oh, Merry Meet, Child..I have come a long way." She spoke slowly her breath nearly stolen as age played it's day upon her well. "You're a welcome sight, MmmHmm." The last a sound that was her agreeing with herself or perhaps the voices in her head. A hunched body could not stand straight, but her hand found that of Ada easy. The surge that rushed through her was startling, but a welcome feeling, "A tarot for a seat, the queen of cups and no water." Often she spoke in riddles, "My sons are missing, my daughter." She squeezed Ada's hand to turn her towards her shop..she needed to sit down and rest. "A sweet child of the moon, the Goddess herself put a part of her heart in your own." For this she was certain, Ada was very special indeed. "I beg ye' for a seat by yur fires, child." With the determination of seed she pushed her way to Ada's door.

Ada: "I look frightening, so the moonlight must be kind," Ada said, offering her arm nonetheless. Her mother had raised her right. She supported the old woman to the door, with the same skill of one used to the few but revered elders in her small town in France. They had all been frequent visitors while her mother had owned the village apothecary, though it had never held such a formal title. She felt that pleasant, rushing, emptying feeling when her skin brushed against the soft, wrinkled hands of the gypsy woman, of power finding its closest receptacle, like water always seeking equilibrium with lake or ocean, and Ada immediately put her worries aside. Even before she mentioned missing her two sons, Ada had a feeling that this woman was no mere beggar seeking a doorway to sleep in. She unlocked the front door of her shop and led with candlelight the way to the store room. Her still ran constantly against the far wall and the fire downstairs was always stoked, dripping oils and boiling water needing constant attention, and always emitting pleasantly herbal smells. There were simple chairs by the hearth, a low cot along one wall, and boxes of supplies stacked in neat piles. Currently enjoying the fire's heat was her cat, Morpheus, who was no longer the tiny ball of soot-colored fur, but something closer in appearance to a cat with deeply suspicious yellow eyes that watched as Ada placed her candle down on a stand next to the fireplace. "It is plain, but fire is fire, no? Do you wish water? I am sorry that I do not have spirits in this house, but I do not drink."

Momma Fortuna: Momma made her round over the room, the sack at her side full of content that any other mortal would dare not touch. Before her seat was to be taken she sat out three candles in self contained holders of three very different colors. One black, one white, and one green to be lit in that very order, a calm then placed over the room. "What a fine companion..Yes you are..kitty kitty." Her long gray hands with white joints would then run down the spine of the cat at who she could closer relate in level of eyes, her spine curved. "It is simple." She said then settling into one of the chairs, "As you can drop in a moment's notice and be gone. You have lots to run from, Little Adelaide, in all your years. Bones don't lie." She shook the bag of a sparrow's remains. "They also tell me you have not been to the fires. You do not wait with the rest to watch bodies be dumped, and loved ones to shift through them searching for their loved ones..hard to tell when the flesh has melted, black down to the bones. This hurts very deeply." She would nod, "Water sounds like the perfect start." Drinking of what? "Tell me..why it is you are not there? What has happened to keep you here?"

Ada: Ada took a seat on the braided rug at the hearth, but she was within reach of the pitcher and mugs she kept in the room, in case she had a patient who slept the night here. She poured a mug for each of them and listened quietly while the woman spoke. She knew better than to interrupt -- but mostly, it would have been silly to do so. The old woman was more right than she ought to be. "It is not running if you make a conscious decision to walk away. I walked away from my home twice. I am not planning on doing so again." It had taken too long to understand what was worth staying for. She knew now. She wanted to stay here in this shop until she was old and gray, no matter who came in and out of her life. She wanted to be a little like Benoit, her old master. She sipped her water and thought hard about the rest of what the woman had said. "I will not wait for a body to be found because I am certain it will not be found in the rubble. Wherever he is, he is able to walk home on his own two feet, and I will be here waiting for him. Unless your bones say this is foolish." Her heart felt terrible for a moment. She put her hand to it and blinked, willing her chest to stop hurting. "I think I would feel it if he is no longer alive. Who is missing, Momma? Have you been to the fires?"

Momma Fortuna: "I fear many are missing, Child. Even after yesterday's anger. I fear for my Fae more then I do your Prince. I worry not of their lives, but what would fall if they too fell.." Her spirit soured like wings of an eagle coming to life lifted by the current that carried them. Momma reached out then for her hand, "I'm far too old to find him in the dark, but you are not." She rocked in the chair then swaying forward just enough to be closer to the bridge of Ada's nose, "I feel it on ya' like heat. I knew the moment ye' stepped foot on the isle. I felt ye', child felt ye' with my bones I did. A power there between the sun and moon, and closer to the heavens, an' when ye' touched my boy's heart, I felt ye' then too. They call ye' muse, but I know best. Charms and spells are for the weak, but pure light is rare." Her eye glowed then, a yellow gold as she rose her brow to gesture towards Ada. "Tell me, child. What it is ye' see. Where can I find my fallen?"

Ada: "It doesn't work that way," Ada said sadly, shaking her head so that her curls swung loose around her face, but also prickled along the still sizable lump Ghislain had left during his last visit. She took a sip of water and set the mug down. The old woman's face glowed with hope, but if Ada knew anything, she would have said it. She would not feel so miserable. She would know where Ghislain was, and if he had truly meant to betray her. She would know where Jean-Claude was. She could tell Rosalind her lover was coming home. "I only open the door. It takes one with true talent to use what I offer. If there is no ability, there is no Sight. And even the talented cannot see what they wish to see. Even with my guidance." She sighed. "There are ways to focus, to engage parts of the mind that are not meant to be opened, to see what is not meant to be seen, but it requires a sacrifice too great, and I cannot...." If her hands were not wrapped around the mug, they would have started shaking. Nothing drastic, but a slight shiver visible to those that looked. "Anyway. It is not what I see that will make the difference, but what you glimpse. I am willing to help, if you will let me."

Momma Fortuna: Momma would not as she listened rocking just the same, as she was very content just to hear her talk. What a lovely one this one. "A sacrifice that is great indeed. One comes this way now.."

Maahes: In that moment, Maahes pressed open the door to the shop, the darkness of his skin blending well with the ash over his body. He was covered in the black soot of the days work, and skin was still moist from the heat of the flames. "Ada.." Maahes spoke out until his eyes landed upon her, and the armored General pulled on the end of a rope, the object still outside. "Where is JC?" His voice could never take the name into victory, only butchered it through his battle to pronounce it. Momma rocked once more, her eyes glazing over.

Momma Fortuna: "He has the key." She watched the back of Ada's head feeling a heat wave rush from the back of her skull where she was struck..interesting.

Ada: "I do not want his -- " Ada switched to French at this point, speedily racing through nearly every epithet in her extensive vocabulary, and belatedly finishing with a half-hearted but English "-- key." Though the wound had healed, her arm was still shiny from the burn. She rubbed it absently, her head canted toward the back door, as if contemplating whether to drop the bar in place to keep the General out. No doubt, whatever he wanted, he would come in anyway. In all her time of knowing him, she had never known him to give up on anything. He was the most singularly persistent man she'd ever met. "Morpheus?" She reached down to pick up the cat, occupying her arm with the animal while she looked to Momma. "Fine." She grabbed a jar of salve sitting on top of one of the boxes and walked out into the main room, where the counter and all her potions were. She planted the jar on the counter with enough force that Morpheus shot his head up and glared at Maahes with his large yellow eyes. "Your wife will not like lying beside a scaly monster tonight." If it was possible to make a kindness sound like the most bitter of curses, Ada managed it, the shape of her eyes distinctly resembling the cat in her arms.

Maahes: He was quiet a moment listening to her words, as she spoke and was surprisingly taken back. "I have not been to my bed in three nights, I would care very little what she wished to be beside." He pulled the end of the rope, and the muzzled rope would carry forward the silver wolf of the scientist. "He's been digging in the ash," To explain the black upon a silver coat. "He will get killed." Look at how much he knew, the wolf was a she.."In this time I do not want the question to rise again on him. The wolves were bad enough." He pulled the rope once more and the wolf gave a deep growl. "I've not come to fight.." Maahes suddenly shifted in his stance, "I'm worried too..Two of my men saw them both go in..and if he is not here, then that means he has not come back out. You have my word I will not rest until he is returned."

Momma Fortuna: Momma would rock her chair once more, coming to stand and make her way to the wolf who was all a bit frazzled by the entire thing and foaming at the mouth. "She.." Momma said running her hand over the silver fur of the beast, helping it ease.

Ada: "Digging for what?" Ada asked, arching a dark brow. "Momma, I think she will be more comfortable in the stock room. There is water, if Morpheus will share." The cat didn't seem too keen on the idea of sharing the shop with a wolf, and true, the creature might be bad for Ada's business, but she didn't give it much thought. One night would not hurt anyone. To his credit, Maahes did look worried. And tired. But Ada could not find it in her to relax, and it made asking questions very difficult. She felt like running in the other direction, but fear was not a feeling she generally lived with for long. It was disconcerting. She wished he would go away. Her conversation with Momma had been much more interesting. "He said he was going to go in from the other entrance, to see after something in his laboratory. I have seen neither since." She thought about the person who had appeared, and Ghislain's reaction. Since she trusted Maahes about as far as she could throw him, she was not about to trust him with keeping an eye out for Ghislain. Sea and stars only knew what the man would do with Ghislain if he found him. Still, the back of her head throbbed as if she should say something.

[Chief Baliff Ealora]

(Deleted)

[Adelaide d'Aquitaine]

(warning - adult content)

Ana: There was an old lady who lived in a shoe, who had too many children and didn't know what to do. Making her way to market the proud huntress turned the heads of those she met. Be it of masculine right or feminine passage, she was walking the ropes with arms wide open. The click of her heels chased away any doubt she was there for any other purpose, but the men at her calling could be proof otherwise. "I think it's time we went looking, boys." With a snap of her fingers the crowd parted, watching the feathered hat mistress clad in leathers, and proudly displaying her latest find. His shirt was unmistakable, the lace too fine not to be Jean-Claude's but the little rose stitch was his trademark..really he dressed far too well for his own good; add belt, attach deadly weapon and tada! Instant hotness. Didn't help she was a well endowed woman who could wear a sack, and call it a statement. Curves were clutched by the silk of it fell over the breeches well. It was midday, the sun hiding behind the clouds as the overcast dreary feeling had swept the nation with the disappearance of the Goblin King. Coming to stand before the square she scanned the rows of shops reading each sign til she came to the only in French. "He makes this too easy, Andrew, go out back." The man at her right would start around the building, "Jed..keep an eye on my rear would ya?" She turned then winking holding her index finger to her lips. "And not that one." With that she pressed forward simply slipping the lock with the tip of her dagger and helping herself to the entrance of Jean's shop. She was in awe as she threw open the curtains, my how his taste had grown..and to her liking. Well manicured hands came to remove the help wanted sign, from the window before slipping in further.

Ada: Ada's day had not been going well. Marcelline was in a foul mood, Morpheus had disappeared, and she tried not to add the clause, Just like all the men in my life, but she was feeling rather bitter today. She blamed it on the weather, the fullness of the moon, the lack of an altar and the careening sense of freefalling without it anchoring her to her home, and the lump on the back of her head. "Go, get out of here," Marcelline told her at last, planting a basket in Ada's hands and shooing her out the door. "Maybe if we are unlucky, that feral animal will not come home again by the time you return," she added, dumping jars of salve and cakes of soap in Ada's basket and covering it with a cloth. Ada wasn't certain if she meant Ren or the cat. Marcelline disliked both in equal amounts. "Go. Be gone!" Rolling her eyes, Ada grabbed her shawl with the other hand and left the apothecary, stopping a few souls with promises of skin-firming soaps and lotions to clear spots of any kind, be they from the women at the docks, high fever, or the much more banal pimples. On her way to Rose's, she saw something odd at Jean's shop and turned to investigate. Where was his sign? The lights were on, which meant someone was home, but he would not have gone home without first coming to see her. She crept closer on pretense of investigating one of the carts in front of his shop, peering over the collection of knit hats to see if there was any movement from within.

Jedidiah: Jedidiah would come up behind her, his shadow looming even in the darkened space. He was a large man, of brute strength the bane of every hurtful force. "Curiosity killed the cat." Her hair would be taken slipping in through the door he would drag her, and all the world was too self absorbed to even notice.

Ana: Ana had completely turned the room over books were spread over tables, sewing in the floor. It was clear she was looking for something, but gave no direction as to what. "My my my, what have we here?" She purred as Jed closed the door, locking it "Is there something I can help you with?" A stance to show dominance, dictation in swaying hips, but it was the hand she planted over the rounding edge that gave away so much. "What a pretty little kitty. Come to play dress up?" She arched a brow over the woman's attire, wrinkling her nose. "Or..sweep the floors?"

Ada: "Oof, brute, you are going to pull my hair, but we have not even had our first date!" Ada grumbled, swinging her basket wide enough that soaps went flying, but the moment she winced, was the moment she lost control of where she went next, her feet barely touching the ground with the firmness of his grip on her hair. Her scalp burned, and the lump where Ghislain had hit her throbbed angrily in protest. She cursed, hissing the foul words like a cat, until Jed let her go, letting her stumble forward a step right into the woman. Ada sized her up rather slowly, letting her eyes adjust to what was before her. Lovely hips, lovely chest, and a cruelness to the smile that suggested this was no dock worker, though she -- Ada sniffed -- smelled like one. Ada was dressed too well to sweep floors, but she was not dressed to even give pretense of being one of Jean's customers. Still, her skin was clear, her teeth were white and even, and there was an earthy, healthy beauty to Ada that suggested a life away from the gutters, even if her bodice was cut low and her full breasts supported only by the grace of strong leather lacings. "I could ask the same of you, non? Though the clothes are of the master's making, I do not think you are a friend of his."

Ana: "What..? This old thing?" Ana laughed stretching lightly with a small turn, to fluff her feathers like the peacoke painting upon the wall. "Friend doesn't even start, Mon Chatte." She would reach out and touch Ada's cheek, letting the lace of Jean's shirt brush her skin. It still carried his scent. "But please, you may call me Ana. Are you the bookkeeper here?" She followed the little basket she had..how cute. "Clean the floors? What?" Her expression was dry shifting over the little brunette, "I am certain my lover does not do it himself, he simply cannot get his hands dirty." She threw up her own with the motion. "What a pity that man, such talent wasted in this dump." Turning then she would motion for Jed to continue, and the man would start to work the room packing away the trunks of fabric. "Don't leave anything, Jean would miss it all dearly." Turning to look over her shoulder at Ada she smiled, "Little hobbies keep men happy. Kind of like weekend whores you know? He does love to knit."

Ada: She leaned on Jean's sewing table, but since the woman was so content to talk, slid her bum onto the padded surface so that one leg dangled, and the other lightly supported her. She looked between the woman and the fellow who had dragged her in by her hair. "It is last season's work, at least, but I do think the joy of the master's work is that he makes the old new. Oh, forgive me, my English, it is not my first tongue. I did not mean to call you old." She smiled, and folded her arms under her breasts. "No, I am the apothecary. I have a shop down the street. I do not know who the girls are who come to clean his shop, but I assure you, domestic skills are the least on my list." It was true. Ada could garden, but picking up a broom or cooking a meal were skills she could not care less about if she tried. "So you know Jean-Claude? He told you to pack all of his belongings? I would be a very terrible neighbor, I think, if I stood by and watched a stranger take all his beloved items away. Ana? How can I prove you know him, hmm?"

Ana: She snorted at the woman, turning to lean against the table across from her, "You see..that is where everyone is so wrong about him. JC cares very little of what he owns or what is his. He simply enjoys giving. He would give you the shirt off his back." She touched the sleeve, narrowing her eyes on the little petite one. "I am old enough to be your mother this I can see, but you would be wise not to point that out." Pressing from the table she lifted her chin to look down upon the woman as she closed the distance between them. "He has told me nothing, other then his wishes. You see..I am having trouble finding him. So I would figure him in trouble with that two faced pirate. Better be safe no?" She took her hat off, the red locks falling around her hips. "You would not have happened to see him within the past few nights have you?" She turned then after sitting her hat upon the table to comb through her hair, "He has been a dear friend of mine for many years, working along side me and my associates to put me where I am. I know of his troubles as a man, and helped him put those worries aside. A remarkable lover, though it really is a pity he has such a beautiful face, and a hideously mangled body. But..those behind that act are paying for the punishment even today. I still have a few in my cellar..I bring them out when they need a good beating and put them back." Pulling her hair back once again replacing it under the hat she squared her eyes with Ada, "Have you ever noticed a strange light here? At night? As bright as the sun?"

Ada: "I would never intentionally.... You do not look it." Ada smiled, actually feeling mirth at the joke. She reached out and touched Ana's shoulder on pretense of examining the shirt, presumably off Jean's back. "It is remarkably well-tailored for something he gave you in an hour of desperation, hmm? But I still think it looks marvelous, though perhaps, I think you are the sort to wear anything and look stunning." Ada was the same way, but her days of pointing out that fact to every man and woman on the street had since passed. She was content to be who she was, and if that was, at the moment, accidentally alluring, so be it. She fluffed her hair absently with her other hand, avoiding the lump on the back of her head. "I am afraid I am occupied with other matters at night. If there is a light, I can say I have never noticed one. What natural thing makes such a light, though, I ask?" She shrugged, and with a final flick along the stitches of the shirt, let her hand fall away. "As his friend, I rather enjoy your punishment for ... you know. What happened." She couldn't bring herself to talk about fires, most particularly with a stranger. "He is a good friend."

Ana: "It was not given puppet..you are missing the point. I removed it..slowly." A deep smirk covered her lips then, and her eyes traveled over the room to Jed who could not keep his eyes off of their lovely guest. "He is a wonderful friend, and this is why I am so worried." Her face fell playing well into the act, "You see we were meant to meet for dinner, and then the fires..no one has heard from him since. I just..you know.." Ana would pout then, uncurling the whip from around her hips. "Worry." Ada was about to catch her in a monologue before she stopped. "He could be dead somewhere, but I knew he was working on a device that created light...and I know how wrapped up he can get in his work. That Pirate has kept him under lock and key for so long he is used to it. They have worked so hard on this machine..and I heard in glorious ways he got it working. I would show you if I could. If only I knew where it was.. perhaps..maybe." She bit her bottom lip holding her hands hopeful with eyes large like emeralds full of water, "My lover is there. Alive. I hardly can tell anymore." Actress.

Ada: "Many people were taken without notice. They disappeared, and were never seen or heard from again. How much work was lost that year, how much genius from which we will never benefit. He was almost lost, yes, and I lost too many that year to not be cautious." Her eyes followed the whip. Cautious was one word for it, indeed. "He is well, and he has so many projects, it is hard to know what inspires him one day to another, one week to the next. His genius is mad, but.... I assume one day, we shall all live in a different and better world, because of him. This, I have faith in. But as for devices? I only know of his sewing, Ana, he does not let everyone into his confidence. He is secretive, and I have no doubt, he has his reasons. Difficult times," Ada completed, nodding slowly. She had no doubt the woman's words were an act. She was too focused on this machine, and would not have invited a guest by the roots of her hair if she was not after something. But if she was worried, nothing appeared on her face. Her lovely dark eyes were nothing short of serene. A man, and many had, could lose himself in those eyes.

Ana: Ana had grown quiet listening to each word as if Ada told a story to which she already knew the end. "Ada.." She knew her name without having been given it. "I am going to ask you one.." She let the whip fly with a single flick of her wrist as shoulders slumped as she turned to walk towards the center of the room. She needed more space. With a crack the whip fell, and even Jed would flinch. "One more time. You tell me where that machine is..where Jean is hiding, and you might live to see tomorrow. "Though..I do warn you." She hissed coiling the whip around her feet to only let it fly once again, and like a snake it's prey was hit with a quick force to wrap the beautiful chandelier. With little effort she pulled the whip with enough force to send the crystal crashing down spilling the lantern oil over the floor. "I will burn this place down, if you do not tell me..and with you inside." Her wrist moved again the snake charmer recoiling it's venomous kiss. Nothing had changed over the woman, not even her stance.

Ada: Ada flinched at the sound of the whip crack, drawing her hands over her eyes, elbows at her ears, the sound racing down every nerve in her spine. She had seen the scars of whips on men's bodies. She had sewn them back together, while Benoit and Gauthier held them to the table, and Ada straddled their hips with catgut and needle in hand, clinically ignoring their screams when she poured more salgirl-thingyer over their wounds between sutures. She knew what such a weapon did. When she pulled her hands down, she saw the results were much worse than tearing flesh. Oil leaked across the floor. Ada took in a deep breath and released it slowly, then eased back on her hands, canting her head as if trying to determine what, exactly, this woman was. Animal, vegetable, or mineral? "I thought you were going to ask me what keeps me so involved at night. My answer was very amusing, I assure you." She shook her head slowly, causing dark curls to swing luxuriously, begging to be touched. Pulled, perhaps, as that seemed Jed's preferred way of handling a woman. "I also assure you, threatening me will not work. I do not know. Even if I did, I think we understand one another well enough -- do you think I would ever betray him? I have already felt the fire once for him. I have no care for my body. It is just a body." She shrugged, though that body seemed careless, her dark eyes were not, never wavering from Ana's. "Though what a bargain you offer. Tell you, and I may live, though most likely, you will kill me anyway. Tell you, and I die. These terms are not very favorable."

Jedidiah: He was fixed upon her, his large dark eyes watching very fully and hands longing to touch her curls. "She won't kill you..not yet." His words were unwelcome but he was not silenced, but Ana would crack her whip in his direction. The man would cower back.

Ana: "So you do know him...would I be safe to assume this would be what kept you at night? Your answer I mean." She smiled then moving forward a little, "I have ways of making you talk. Jed, get Andrew out..burn it down. The Machine is not here." She would take Ada by the arm, pulling her by the hearth. "You really gonna let me burn it? Those books in his study would be very deeply missed. A companion of mine is after them..he said he could fetch a high price for the ones written by a man named.." Ana curled her hand against her chin, "Bennot? Benion? Help me..I can not think of the name." Turning then, she would motion for Jed to tie her, the chain that held the crystal would work well. Jed would move to do just that, before seeking out Andrew. Leaving the women alone, but only for a moment. He returned, clearly wanting to watch what came next.

Ada: "Well," she said to Jed, looking a little wiser than some might think her at that moment, "it gives me hope knowing that." She had a feeling Ana would make staying alive about as miserable an experience as one could have. She might even prefer death. But it was easy to be brave when she had never truly experienced real physical pain. Easier. She stumbled toward the hearth, dragged forward by Ana, with the cold links of the chain wrapped around her. She scowled. They were doing this all wrong. "First you pull my hair," she said slowly, fluttering her lashes, "then you tie me up, but still, no offer of wine, or perhaps a night at the theater, or even a walk in the park. Still, you are hitting all the right spots, even if you have missed the simple courtesy of romancing me first." She smiled quickly, just the corner of her full lips lifting, then settling back in its neutral pose. "Burn it. Burn them all. You would be doing a great favor to the world. They have brought nothing but misery. Besides, the important ones are with the machine, and sea and stars! I do not know where that is, either. Would that I did, I have a business to run."

Ana: Ana's eyes burned then, wild green fire that cooled against Ada's only to cause steam to rise, "WHAT..if I told you I had him. What if I told you I had him, and the pirate. Would you talk then? If you heard his cries for mercy?" She was at her wits end..Ada knew, she knew she knew, and the other way around. "If you could save him, you would talk. You would realize how little it truly mattered this machine compared to his life? Your life? You would not think me a witch would you? If I told you I had the power to let you feel what he is feeling right now?..." Ana took a step back, uncoiling the whip once more nodding to Jed who would force Ada to stand once more. "What if I had ways of making you talk?" She turned her wrist to ready a strike, "Tell me..Would you take that hit for him? I'll get it out of you, or out of him either way. One of you will suffer, and I will have that god damn power." She was wild with the anger now.

Ada: Ada's mouth tightened. "I do not think you have him. I think, if you had him, you would be torturing him with fantasies of my rather painful and prolonged death. I think you would enjoy hurting him more." She stood without struggling, even glancing down at the lacings on the front of her bodice. "That is, if you do plan on keeping me alive, at least make it that the wounds do not fill with infection. Besides, Jed will enjoy the show. Burn, whip, my answer is the same. I do not know." Her voice was light, almost as if talking about a new ship in port, with only the faintest tinge of tension gathering at the corners of her mouth. She rested her eyes on Ana, and repeated, slowly, as if to a simple child. "I do not know. I do not know where he keeps the books. I do not know where he does his work. I know nothing of him, save he sews up bodies and does fine work with a needle on cloth, ah? Do you want me to be polite? I am afraid I did not have those lessons as a child. My beginnings were a little harsher than Jean-Claude's, and my mouth a little more vulgar." Her mouth softened for a moment. She wished she could see Jed. He was a coward and a fool, but she knew when a man was paying attention to her. "I wish I knew. Because I think he would be there."

Ana: Somewhere between the battle of wits and the exhaustion night had fallen. The darkened sky keeping close watch over the event going on. "And you would be at his side? A crazed lunatic's side? Are you aware he is the reason that city is burning? Are you aware how he killed children? Women? For science? Do you even know what he is? He's a monster!" She flicked her wrist to carry the whip across her chest enough to bust the laces letting the bodice fall away. The very impact of it hissing across her skin enough to tear the fabric of her dress. "Now TELL me." She had not given her a full blow, allowing her one more chance. As the tips of her whip were deadly, a force best not be tested. "I do not want him..or you..I want that machine. This would end..all of it, just tell me where it is."

Ada: Ada flinched again, feeling the crackle of air across her skin. The bodice fell away, no longer attached to her body, but pooling where her wrists were bound. She shook her hair out of her face. "It is not my place to judge him. I cannot judge any man for what he does or does not do." The moment of strength began to dissolve. Her hands began to shake, but she would stay standing, and she would watch Ana like a hawk. Time was passing very slowly. Would Marcelline wonder if Ada had been offended? Would she be too worried about her job to wonder why Ada had not yet returned? Would she mention any of it to Ren? It was a silly thought, and not exactly comforting. Who cared about her to know that she had not returned? "I do not know where it is. I don't know. I have only seen it once, and I was blindfolded." She shrugged as much as she could, fully realizing how ridiculous the gesture was without anything covering her top. She felt cold, even before the fire.

Ana: Once again her wrist bent to send the whip airborne, but this time it would not fall short. This would be her first and perhaps final hit. A quick slice at her side the most tender places just under the cup of her breast over the thin flesh that rest against her rib cage, as Ana was tired of playing games. The blood that remained upon the end splattered against the floor, and Jed could only laugh. He held a good place, and it was clear he got off on pain. However, Ana would wait to hear her cries, to see if she begged to stop as she knew well that hit was one of the worst. "Blindfolded? He kept secrets even from you? But you must have paid attention to where you were..what you were surrounded in?" She would snake the whip once more turning it over to ready another hit.

Ada: Ada's knees buckled from the pain. She staggered, but Jed held her back. She tried straightening, but the skin on her breast was white hot. She stayed slightly hunched, trying not to notice her blood on the floor. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, bile creeping up her throat despite her efforts to remain calm. "I don't.... I don't know. Where it is -- I do not know." She knew how men tortured. Ghislain had explained it to her once. His words went singing through her mind in the span of a few seconds, a flood of memories both interesting and amusing. They had horrified her at first, but Valois had been fascinated. Ada blinked her eyes open. The memories were not helping her nausea. "It was very dark. He was being very mysterious, I think. There was wine, but you know, I do not drink." She breathed in and exhaled. "It was very lovely wine. He drank. It is a shame to waste good wine. And then he went to sleep. But I don't know where we were." Sweat beaded on her forehead, and there was a note of plea in her voice, even if she did not say the words.

Ana: Ana heaved a deep breath knowing the woman spoke some truth..Jean would not let good wine go to waste. "Let us let that fester, let the infection sicken her..she will speak then. I am certain of it."

Jean-Claude: All this time eyes had watched from the window, as Ghislain contemplated his entrance. However, when Ada's body was struck hearts across the nation rose. Jean-Claude had been in and out of consciousness for two days now. His body surrounded by large boulders, his body pinned, but he had fallen free from most of the heavy rocks. The complete darkness took him not by surprise, but he welcomed the feeling. The cool damp air soothing against his pounding head, and the silence welcome. However, the pain that shot through his side was no longer of his own, "Ada.." He breathed, the sound causing his captain to raise his head from his huddled seat. They were trapped, and had no way out..but Jean was awake?

Peregrine: Peregrine closed the distance between them in the dark, fluffing the jacket he had used as a pillow under his friend's neck. "Take it easy..don't move too fast." Peregrine knew he had been hit hard on the head.

Jean-Claude: "Ada.."

Peregrine: "I'm sure she's fine, don't move." Jean-Claude muffled a few sounds before opening his eyes, having felt he had left his body to be with her. "Jean, there isn't anywhere we can go. We just have to wait..stop." Peregrine forced him back down, and JC closed his eyes once again, mumbling something. "I know, I'm worried about her too." He squeezed Jean's arm before searching once again for any sign of daylight..or any way out.

[Chief Baliff Ealora]

Maahes:His wife was sleeping soundly, against their bed--or at least he thought. Never would they expect his call to town to be like this, but he would return only to have her advice. Jack could not be found, and his men were busy battling the fires, and he needed her help. Sneaking into the house, he wished to not wake the entire home as the world was asleep, and there would be hell to pay with the dark steps that would lead through the house. He carried the scent of fire, smoke over exotic skin that was only darker now...but his words were a whisper like smoke rising. "Ealora.." He whispered touching her shoulder gently.

Ealora: It could be counted on with a house full of children, two overzealous toddlers and one learning the antics of his siblings, that Ealora was going to bed as soon as the kids were asleep, or falling into bed more like it. She could always seem to sleep like the dead, the truth was, when there was every trouble(and there was with three small kids in the house) that she was up and going again at the slightest crashing sound. This time it was no crush as the house was quiet having settled hours ago, children's laughter and patting feet had long stopped echoing off the walls that had too long ago seemed to echo a sigh of relief at the peace in the household. No it was the smell of smoke. His touch had her jerking, rolling to her back as her lids opened. "What's wrong?" Kicking her feet to give her momentum, she rolled to sit up, pushing a hand through disheveled russet locks.

Maahes:He had tried his best not to startle her..but perhaps he had always doubted him. She loved him, for everything he was..but how could she not be scared? "Habibi..The city is burning. The Underdark, your friends can not be found. I need your ship." He reached out to touch her stomach, letting his hand rub gently over the baby bump. "Your men will follow me, I just need your permission." This much he was certain, "Unless..you know of another way. I think Pere has got his ship ready, my scout saw him on the dock." He spoke all in one breath, bending to place a kiss to her brow, and his heavy dreads would fall around her. "Sorry..I smell." He snorted pulling back away from her, but wanting very badly to be there in bed with her.

Ealora:Slender brows lifted in surprise. The underdark was burning? Jean and Perry couldn't be found? What the hell was going on that she didn't know about! Even as the shock crossed her face it hardened in the next second, ohhh those two were going to get such an ass whooping when she found them, pregnant or not! "Why is Perry preparing his ship and why do you need the Shadow Storm? Do you plan to attack him?" Her head tipped back as he kissed her brow. She couldn't help even in a tense situation to relish a moment of his touch. Always like it was the first, always praying it would not be the last. Gripping his arm as he pulled back, she used him, his weight to pull her out of the bed. She wasn't so big that she couldn't move well but she was getting use to the baby bump again, it was awkward and strangely even only a half moon, it got in the way when trying to move around, mostly stand! "I'm coming with you..the only other way I see it, is I have to talk to him, found out what's going on, and where Jean is, I can't loose them too." Though her and Caleb had their bad moments, more then the good, there had been the good moments and she still owed Caleb for killing his wife, she would never repay it but she would spend the rest of her life trying with every thing she could. Including this fire.

Maahes:And here they would go. "Ealora.." He would start using his superior strength to place her back on the bed, and the covers back over her body. "You can't." He narrowed his eyes upon his wife, and though he loved her very much..there were many times he wanted to trade her in! "Honey, you know they are fine." He tried to sooth her like he would one of their children, a bad dream to wake them, and daddy there to put them back to bed. "You can not kill him..trust me..I have tried."

Ealora:Yes indeed here they would go, at least this time it wasn't a war, or at least a war of a different kind, a fire war. "Maahes.."She retorted turning a dark stare up at him. "I thought you said you weren't going to doubt my strength anymore?" Her head shaking at his argument. "no I don't know that! If they were fine the underdark wouldn't be burning now would it?!" Pregnant hormones were rushing, anger and fear drumming hard at her heart. "Jean loves that place and all the people in it, those are his people, those are Perry's people. I can't sit here and do nothing while you sail off into the moonlight with my crew, something I haven't been able to do for God knows how long and I'm not going to kill him, just bruise him up a bit.." Irritated, she yanked the covers off of her.

Maahes:"I do not doubt you. I worry for our child. Because you.." He stopped himself, not wanting to admit the guilt he felt for blaming her. "Look what happened to Ra. We almost lost him. I will not have a wolf pull this one from the river..or the fire." He pushed her back once again, "I can get Jack to get a ship, but I worry he is doing something that would turn the Admiral against him. He does not need to be an outlaw." Wow..Maahes sticking up for Peregrine, "All of the streets are burning, have been for three days..I do not think many survive." He narrowed his eyes at her when she started to yell, "Be quiet. You will wake the children." He whispered back, "Keep this up and I won't tell you anything more."

Ealora:Damn that one hurt, as hard as if he had slapped her and her face flinched as if he were getting ready to. He stopped before admitting any guilt for blaming her but when he stopped, she knew it, he had no need to say it. She read the look in his face. That stung harder then his words. Still, him sticking up for Perry did surprise her, all most made her skeptical of him. Was she dreaming? Was this really her husband? "You push me back down here one more time Maahes Asad Aziem and you won't be able to sit down for a week!" She hissed, dropping her voice as he growled at her to lower her voice, at least she didn't want to scare the children. "I won't go into the fires, but at least let me come. You know Perry and Jean always find me, use me as bait, I don't care. I can't sit here while the streets burn, Maahes those people. I could never forgive myself for sitting doing nothing."

Maahes:He would start cursing her in Arabic, words she did not know, but could easily tell as he stood angrily, "Fine. But you promise me you will stay by my side." The safest place was in his arms, and with that he would pick her up covers and all before setting her down.."Get dressed." In what he wasn't certain..she was getting so big so fast, but he heard this was normal. "I will fill you in. Peregrine has been gone, when he came back, Jean was sick, had to burn his lover to get his mind right. Her screams made him come back down. She is gone too, the healer who healed my head. You stay in the castle..you hear me." He called after her when she would move around the castle, "And you don't go in the fire. Not once. Ealora?" Did she hear him.

Ealora:She wanted to grin in triumph but it was hard to grin when you used the guilt card, not that this was a game. She told the truth, she would never forgive herself if she didn't at least go. She simply waited while he cursed at her in Arabic, not batting one eyelash, she didn't understand any of it, that was for sure but she knew it was bad...very bad. She didn't flinch when he picked her up then set her down, instead she didn't waste another second. She had to use a pair of his pants, the ones he never wore, to fancy for him and a belt to latch it closed against her belly but she couldn't drag one of his shirts on no, to big, instead she used one of her own, the buttons on the front straining against the bubble of her belly. "Yes, I hear you, oh shut up Maahes!" She hissed, of course she loved her husband but sometimes she wanted to slap the hell out of him. "Pick one Maahes, stay by your side or stay in the castle, you can't have both!" Though she had heard him, she was gathering up what he said. It still didn't make any sense. How had Jean been sick, she had only seen him a scant month or so ago? and what damned lover. Now she truly felt isolated in the valley, much as she loved it, a part of her still craved the sea. "Sorry, I didn't mean that, not shut up, but you can't have it both ways, I am not going to hurt our baby Maahes."

Maahes:"You go get your ship, gear it up, then go to the castle." There he had the answer then! He chuckled then..laughter the best medicine, but when she came out in his clothes he could not help but double over at the sight. How adorable she was! "You look like a man!" He smiled then as all the world fell away, "Cut your hair and then join my army..big and pregnant." He grinned...boy he was something strange tonight huh?

Ealora:"Fine." She glared in his direction, until he stared grinning and then chuckling that turned to laughter. Honestly she didn't know whether to laugh with him or growl AT him. "Cut my hair, you have lost your mind" She retorted though the grin was itching at the corner of her lip jerking the corner up and down in an attempt to smoother it. "Oh yes, an Army of pregnant women, didn't you know they win wars ten times faster then men, hormones." She nodded. Despite their bickering, she crossed to him, capturing him in a kiss that seemed to pull and beg only to fall away to soon. "Keep a weather eye open General" She purred against his ear. She would see the Shadow Storm ready, hell she was looking forward to being the Captain again and bossing them around.

Maahes:That was if they made it out of here first. He purred against her ear, as she clung to him with her kiss..teasing this temptress..the fires could wait...ok no they couldn't. "Raincheck." His new favorite word.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

"… we thought we were at the finish, but our way bent round and we found ourselves as it were back at the beginning, and just as far from that which we were seeking at first."

Turas Lan is spacious and vast, but all things must have foundations. The depths of the city are a labyrinth that twist from the base of the walls sloping down and turn over avenues that once housed the desperate poor, now holding the lowest whores, thieves, brigands, and their accomplices. Twist and turn, rise and fall. Deeper into the places where the whispers of murders mingle with the taste of ill-gotten gains.

He awoke from his sleep at the ringing of the alarm… the large bell upon the main gate to the city. His heart thudded in his chest as if a demon was inside wrangling to be free. As he slipped from the bed, he glanced at his wife, then hurried to the window… in the distance he saw smoke billowing, as if the ground was afire. Quickly, he looked around for the signs of siege… to see balls of fire and stone hurled over the walls… but there were none. Confused, he headed for the door, just as a guard opened it to wake him.

“MiLord Mo’r Triath, the ground bae afire… tis as dragons belch flame to burn the city…” the guard said in a haggard voice.

“Get me mae Engineer… summon the Physicians… Where there is fire, people will be in harm’s way…” he bellowed in a stern voice… “Alarm the watch commaders, and have a fire brigade started…” then he turned to put on his clothes. He NEEDED to see what was occurring.

“Yes My liege…” the guard responded, now accompanied by the royal guard commander, all quickly departing.

By now, Bess had been startled awake, and Adam tried to reassure her that things would be alright… but you know Beathag… that Norse blood would take control in such situations. Adam continued to don his clothes as fast as he could… then he would take one last look over the city trying to determine what had caused such an alarm. “Bess, no need for yu… stay here with the children…”

Below, people were scurrying around trying to douse flames that ignited from shops, turning vendors’ carts into charred remnants… It was as if flames would melt the ground, then reach up and torch whatever was atop its path to freedom.[/color]

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

By now, Bess had been startled awake, and Adam tried to reassure her that things would be alright… but you know Beathag… that Norse blood would take control in such situations. Adam continued to don his clothes as fast as he could… then he would take one last look over the city trying to determine what had caused such an alarm. “Bess, no need for yu… stay here with the children…”

Below, people were scurrying around trying to douse flames that ignited from shops, turning vendors’ carts into charred remnants… It was as if flames would melt the ground, then reach up and torch whatever was atop its path to freedom.


The peace of the capital was going to be broken by something. If not man, than nature? Or was it a combination of the two breeding wordless peril in the foundations of the city where only certain members of the citizenry could live? For all of her proported boldness, her steps did not cross into the depths below the last pair of streets supporting the new districts of middle-class wealth before the plunge. None would allow it. Now Adam would venture to the places of mystery, perhaps older than the familial establishment on top of it. "Ahdam, wait.." she protested, if the fires spread tae the adjoinin' streets, give me leave tae send out the wagons tae bring them up.

Give me leave the strangeness of seeking permission never sounded any less strange, only easier to negotiate with. Like Adam, she had already risen. The women in the room were turned away, for her own hands were fast enough to pull on the brown dress over her own kirtle, quick enough to manage her own boots. Fire. If there was an element the capital stone could quiver beneath it was fire. Instead of it raining now, it was erupting from the earth. Somewhere, the fantatical would deem Turas Lan sharing the fates of Sodom and Gamorah, as it so deserved. Some would fall to their knees in praise of God, others in hopes he would end the devil's foothold. The practical would begin to form lines for buckets from the nearest wells.

As he spoke to her of remaining, she peered out of their window to the distance where a glow did seem to imprint on the locked stones in the road. Brick held an aura of foreboding. "Ahdam, by the Gods...". A portion of the city burned while the rest still slept sound. Some ran in the streets while others had no care for the destitution. If it burned, could not something else be built on top of it? Of course, if one lived in the streets above the under-dark, one understood the peril of watching it fall in on itself. Given that the castle, too, had deep foundations she told him of her plans while remaining. "We'll soak the foundations n' remainin' open passages as much as we can, just in case. Ye should make sure the same is done around the houses on the streets gaein down from the Church...Ebony Hall is perched above the Under-dark, the last rich house in the plain stone..aye?"

To mention is to bring attention to a bit of fact that also deserves to mention. While the home itself was plain from the outside, inside, it served as an elegant fortress. It seemed that while parties concerned were busy hunting the ghouls of nightmares, they did not think to contend with an elemental one such as this.

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

To mention is to bring attention to a bit of fact that also deserves to mention. While the home itself was plain from the outside, inside, it served as an elegant fortress. It seemed that while parties concerned were busy hunting the ghouls of nightmares, they did not think to contend with an elemental one such as this.


The Laurence House sat comfortable on top of decorum before the downward trip into infamy. It was a quiet time on the streets where the stone houses were neither boisterous nor too plain. Just as it ought to be, or was. In the silence of the torch-tipped blackness was a strange light eminating in the joinings of the street. Where it gave way to dirt, that too was not without an oddity: heat. While indeed the sounds of scramble scuttled up the road, no houses burned on this street. It was not what was on top to prove the problem...

but below

The house expanded to indeed take up a house and a half's worth of old architecture on the street, and took its principle into the womb of the city. The under-dark, to the household, became a passageway to any number of locations. The same could be said of the upper stones. Below the obvious were training halls, secret rooms, things that connected to other pieces of the great secret. If one was exposed, the entirity risked exposure.

Irony took the first steps that night in how the shadows shifted below with persons who saw nothing. It wasn't until the smell of smoke became promiment that the figures indeed figured what was approaching. Unfortunately, the under-dark if anything, is at want for breezes. They choked on the gathering smoke and stench of sickness, ingesting their own stomach contents before their eyes were stung shut. On cat-quiet feet the smoke was creeping over their bodies, leaping off to lick the base of moss ridden stones with an orange glow for a tail. If the guard had been smote out by the fire, who then would warn of danger?

No stranger herald could be found than the cloaked figure with an armful of books and her companion, a woman of stout figure who's arms were full of materials. Looking left and right, they crossed not a street, but the foundations heading toward a set of doors not far behind the last foundation lay of Ebony Hall. "Come on, Carlotta," the smaller woman said to her fellow, The Rabbi is waiting..". Carlotta said nothing as she stepped over a puddle of ancient water, muttering, "This is no business for a young lady, and worse yet..did not Master Sorchal tell you involve no one else in your doings? What if he is consorting with the enemy, what if.." The woman huffed, seeing the pair of eyes that made her surrender opinion. Fluid like the water, holding all matter of emotion and resolve to sort each one. "You will not talk of the Reb in that matter, Miss Carlotta! Heaven knows, we are blessed to have him. Without him I will never finish the last lines, and besides...you know how he felt in regards to our presence." In that, Carlotta could broker no argument. The moment he saw Janice, it was if he knew who she was. He told her what neither Alendral and Claramae could, and what Vance would never know. He told her of her father's life as a man of the Old Testament, and of her mother's conversion. It was him who had cried most when his wife said that it was better for Vittergaust to live as a man of Christ, and for his daughter to be that way. Danielle had risked much to convert, and the secret lay inside of her only child. It was him who told her of her uncle's devices as well as of his greater accomplishments. Lastly, it was he whom was the only person beyond blood or apprentice that new of the Masterwork, and Janice had strived to find him all on her own for the express purpose.

Their lives lay in each others hands, and more lay in Sorchal's if he ever found out before they were finished. Tonight, they would not have time to even read a single page or make a single note. She had barely crossed the threshold of the door the Rabbi's wife held open before the man came crying through the small room of their dwelling. "There is a fire, and it has consumed much of the Labyrinth! It is coming this way, quick, we must flee!" The women three looked between one another. Carlotta nearly dropped the books in her arms before the Rabbi's wife, Deborah, thrust her hands on them and shook her head no. No? Carlotta was about to broker now text was not more important than their lives when she noticed Janice had caught the fever of preservation. Her books and the girl's were thrust into satchels. Notes from the Rabbi's private study were wrapped in cloths, while his wife began to fetch their precious Torah. Some things could never be replaced while others could not be lost.

"Carlotta, help me, these books, here. That box, there! We can risk nothing being burned or discovered! Please!" She took her companion, her friend, by the shoulders and shook her hard, " The Under-dark is burning. Do you see! Surely something will be dregged up. They have been hunting hard.. The woman said nothing more. Indeed, she'd said not many sentences at all, but sometimes words are paltry things. She knew the business of the household as well as the next head servant. With that in mind, she began to grab every book in sight that she could concievably carry.

"We can take the paths that will go to the ladders, there, up to the street. I do not think it safe to stay below. Not enough air to breathe down here." Deborah had prepared in such a rush that for the first time since their wedding, he saw her hair uncovered. A feeling of immodesty was dwarfed by the need to survive. Against the ketubah covered wall,the glow was already beginning to prove stronger than the cooking fire. Deborah bit into her lip, "We need to go. More for you, than for us child. Come, come."

The party of once two women now became three women and one man. One woman was maid, the other, a young, and the last, neither young nor old. Jewish was as good a way to describe her as any. Far more resiliant than any could devise. What her husband deemed too harsh for the girl's ears, Deborah told. Of the pograms, rapes, hangings, and injustices against the people of the book. She thought it odd any would worshipped the Hanging One, but did not discredit her husband's Gentile friends among the clergy. It was they who smuggled them from place to place, helping to follow the path. It was the secret channels where faith mattered little and skill mattered more, that led them to Janice in so much as it led her to them.

Between the people here and the contents they carried, all of the work that her benefactors had done hinged. Now they were fleeing from fire, both literal and in the metaphoric. The Rabbi had gone away to fetch his walking stick when a cry of suprise echoed from an ajoining room. All of them turned to see, finding that he was using the stick to fend away an adversary. "Run, run now! Take them Deborah to the ladders!" Deborah grabbed Carlotta, who in turn sought to grab Janice. Instead, air permeated her empty fingertips as the door became closer and Janice, farther.

"Janice! Janice!" she shrieked, Deborah pulling on the maid, though calling back in the same horrified tones. Just as she could not leave the texts to the flames, nor could she let the Rabbi to a hell incarnate. How did she find the strength to wrestle the stick from his hands, and swing it down over the adversary's back, his head? Fear had a strange taste when it turned to anger's border. Bile laced honey became her spittle as she swallowed it. Her voice came out in a ragged assortment of French fused Hebrew as she beat at him blindly, causing the skull to issue forth a crack she would have deemed absurdly loud, had she been in her right thoughts. It was the fear of not wishing to see another die for her sake, not wanting to lose another she had come to love.

Claramae and Alendral had so much to do, and Vance was stuck between their commandments. Such tired eyes they wore, such burdens. Their voices were mute and her world had dimmed without their guidance, worry, or praise.

Neither fire nor Gottschalkian adversary would take the Rabbi from her. The fire lept in the opening, licking at the heels of the dead man as Janice now dropped the stick. What had she done? Thou shalt not kill

Some commandments must be forgotten if one is to live in moments of peril. This is why there is act of confession.

"Miriam, Miriam!"

He called her by her Hebrew name, and she was so startled when she looked up to him, she could have forgotten that and Janice forever. He shook her. He was free, and she had saved him. Now they both must save themselves. It wasn't long before they met the others in the winding passages that led to the ladders secrecy conspired for moving up and down. It would be at these ladders for the first time in the four months that found Janice in the Rabbi's company a guard had been placed there, and a guard called. "Lady Viscreed, what in God's name.."

"Nevermind it now," her voice was not submissive, but direct! "There is a fire spreading in the under-dark, you have to go back and tell those at the bottom of Ebony Hall, lest the foundations are scorched!"

Therein, the protected of Ebony Hall became the voice that may have saved it.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Adam had feared Bess would revolt against his directions. No one could ever keep that Norseman’s brood from being in the thick of a situation. As he stood in the doorway, he glanced back at her… Shaking his head he turned back to her and stopped her from dressing, his arms stilling hers from moving… then with a pull to him, he wrapped strong arms around her. As he embraced his beloved wife, he whispered in her ear… “Against better judgment, Ah give yae leave tae dae wot must bae done… Get the childr’n tae safety… Impress ‘pon them the importance of wot we dae… But bae e’r sae careful o’yerself, mae love… save as many o’our people as yae kin… but care faer yerself first…”

His hands took her face, his sea-green eyes looking deep into hers, flickering side to side to read what she thought. And as she now spoke of the Ebony House, he nodded… “Aye lass…just heed mae words…” then he kissed her ever so passionately… a full kiss should it be their last. “Ah luv yae lass… with all mae heart… be careful…” then he turned and hurried out the door leaving Beathag to do what must be done.

Out of the Griffin Castle, through the streets of the capital city… down to the areas where smoke now choked the air… he wrapped a piece of material around his face... and he, and several Gold Talon members braved the flames… forming bucket lines…

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Against better judgment, Ah give yae leave tae dae wot must bae done… Get the childr’n tae safety… Impress ‘pon them the importance of wot we dae… But bae e’r sae careful o’yerself, mae love… save as many o’our people as yae kin… but care faer yerself first…”

Beathag was not trying to disobey her husband, but in the spirit of opposites obey him while gaining the necessary permission should it take her beyond the usual sphere. Her place was here - that she was certain of. No further than the street below the castle before the rise, helping to draw others to safety, yes? The way he held her it was as if he was afraid she'd burn away into nothing. She couldn't blame them. Events of high tension had never been kind to them. In fact, one might say the Gods tested their dedication on a constant basis.

"M'anam Cara, please," she whispered, drawing his hands into her own, "Ah'l be a'right, ye dae the same.." That was all there was to say, all she had time to say before a kiss was had and in the aftermath of their love and shared worry he was gone. By then, the ladies, having heard the stirrings, came from their seperate quarters beside the Lady's end of the chamber. "Ye will wake the women, we must make ready tae take in any injured men. The watch down below those parts, their families will need comfortin, n' ye will tell all we will take waters tae douse the bottoms o' the castle with.

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

Then it came, breaking into dreams and shaking them and all the city from slumber. The alarm bell was striking, fast and as furious as the Bell Toller could go. "Fire!" the code with a most urgent rating.

In moment Ae tied up her braid under a hat and pulled her boots on. Dmitrii, too was being called.

And as fate would have it… the relaxed effort was short-lived… as the city’s fire alarm was being tolled… people running hitherto through the streets toward flames that belched from below ground. Twin swords would do him no good… this was a fire-fight… a dread he so much hated to deal with. He could best a man… on foot or horseback… but fire? From below ground? Who knows what lie beneath !!!

Old lePower rose and still bewildered by the alarm, tried to accompany his daughter and the almost "son". "Stay with Dora, Da, please? Clovis will not be returning for her until morning" So the good old man was left with his daughter's servant.

Out of nearby dwelling, able bodied citizens responded to assist in whatever way they might. Martin looked out the one window over Ae's chart drawing desk and tried to see which direction there were flames in the sky but did not find what he anticipated.

Not ten minutes was the young couple gone running out the door to help, but a little pitiful voice called out to Martin. "Sir Martin? Will you fetch that little stool near the chimney corner? Yes. That's it. Tis me birthin' chair and I think it be my time."

Down the streets Aegraine and Dmitrii ran… together, they would make their way thru smoke and heat. Dmitrii would be out of his league, and would obey Aegraine’s commands as City Engineer.

From its source, fire extended its arms out, reaching and stretching out like an awakened giant. In the streets above, the underdark and where its secret lanes ran below the ground, here and there, holes gaped open where cobblestone streets fell in. Those openings became smokestacks of the flames within. Fire is something alive, something breathing. There were too many openings to air to smother it now.

From one pile of rubble stood a woman, her hair singed and her gown's hem still smoldering. She grasped onto Dmitrii's arm as he and Aegraine hurried to the central bucket brigade water source. "Help me! My son is still in the hall below. I tried to get him up, but he slipped my grip." She pointed to an open wound in the street, its cobblestones still moving and rolling into the aperture. Acrid smoke roiled up but you could hear a child coughing. "He is gonna burn! Please, help him!" Her grasp clawed into Zurban's arm.

Dmitrii looked to the woman and tried to calm her fears. Looking down the hole, he sees the boy lying on his side… in the near distance a reddish-orange glow lurked, and flickered against darkness… Calling down to the boy not to be afraid… and that he would come down and get him…

Dmitrii struggled and squirmed trying to fit himself down thru the hole… to no avail… then he began to jump upon the edges of the hole to make it larger… but the edges stood firm… Frustrated, Dmitrii took the frantic woman’s arms… “Stay here… watch the boy… I shall get help and return post haste…” the Rus accent rolling off his tongue…

With a steady stride, he ran toward Aegraine who was busy down the street nearer the fire.

Connected to each other by the underdark tunnel, this house and then that began to catch fire, endangering their neighbors. Bucket brigades snaked about dousing what they could, fast and furious. To provide the strongest for moving full buckets, a second line of women and old men formed up, passing empty pails back for refilling. Grandma Kent herded children to safety, all she could round up holding onto a rope, scurrying away from the present danger. Older ones carried their little siblings and made for the market place, safe for now.

Here in the bucket brigade, on one side in a line with other men was sturdy Clovis, passing one after another pail of water on to the next. Each household brought their own water pails, without thought of taking it home again. Wooden pails, milk pails, leather buckets for horse feed; all went flying along the line, fill and refill, water against flames.

Ae wet the cloth covering most of her face and tried to make some sense of the chaos. Nearby were ropes and hoisting buckets, leftover from the recent wall repairs. She grabbed a metal pole and went away from the recent cave in and began to pound the street surface, in an attempt to see if the tunnel continued.

“Aegraine…Aegraine…” he called out in a harried tone… “Come luv, help me…” as he started gathering lengths of rope. “A boy has fallen thru a hole too small for me… he is hurt with no way to climb up…” then as the pair ran back toward the woman, he discussed his plan… to lower Aegraine down the hole, to retrieve the boy. No, there was no time to internally debate his decisions to place his beloved in harm’s way… or allow a boy to die…

There was no question in her mind when Ae left the others to manage without her a while and ran over to where a bedraggled woman was calling into that hole in the street. Dmi would not call her unless it was imperative.

"Set still Fergus. They got a lad come to haul you up." Down below the street a three year old bawled as plaintive as a lost calf. "Be brave. We will get you out." A hand on her shoulder moved the woman back from the small hole in the cobblestone street. It glowed gold from distant burn and dark smoke drifted up in wisps.

"Down here?" Ae judged the aperture a close fit, but she was already reaching for a rope and tying a foot hold on its end. "Lower me and I will whistle when we need hoisted up." She was not hesitant to slip through the street, drawn in by the whimpering of a three year old "little man" trying to be brave.

Dmitrii nodded… “He is down there, that way…” and pointed a finger thru the hole to the left side. The rope was wrapped around his waist, and he took a stout stance, as his gloved hands fed the rope against her weight… lowering his beloved Aegraine into Hell’s Kitchen…

Down under the street, smoke stung her eyes but she breathed clear through her face cover. It was not difficult to locate the child for his sniffling was loud and he coughed from the smoke. "Fergus?" Ae inched forward, her foot still in the rope loop and careful not to frighten the little one any more that he was. "Come. I take you to your Mum." She held out one hand, the other gripped onto the rescue rope. Above them the cavern arched in blackness, the little exit to the street above glowed with the red and gold of fires burning on houses nearby. The moments she had to be patient and let the boy decide to come to her and not run off were elsewhere but in the end, he answered to his name. "Fergus. Here."

Aegraine was light compared to men Dmitrii had accomplished this before under similar combat situations, but more was at stake… his beloved’s life… as well as a 3 year old’s… He stood strong amidst the smoke and heat that was approaching…

The child grasped onto her and Aegraine held onto him with one hand she clutched the little one to her chest like a vest. With a tug to the rope, she whistled loud, the signal for hoist that was part of a wall construction worker's vocabulary.

At the whistle, sharp and loud, much like a man’s whistle, Dmitrii began to pull… but coming up, with additianl wight, although slight, was difficult. Dmi grit his teeth and backed up… his muscles strained as he gripped the rope… inch by inch was fed thru his hands… But a smile and a nod was offered in relief as Martin, beit old, was still strong as an ox, grabbed the rope and began to haul Ae and her charge upwards to the road…

Up top, Fergus' mother waited, biting her knuckles, full of guilt for not holding onto the boy when she was helped to the surface, Clovis noticed what was going on and stepped out of the bucket brigade for a bit, to back up Dmitrii holding onto the rope for rescue. One arm came through the street and then Aegraine's cloth masked face emerged. "Can someone take the child? This is a very tight fit."

Dmi watched the woman take her child from Ae’s grasp and move to the side… then he and Martin pulled bringing Ae upwards still. With Martin holding the rope, Dmi let go long enough to grab Ae’s hand and help her thru the hole… then he took her in his arms and hugged her… “I told yu, we make a good team…” then shooed her off to return to her job… calling out as she walked away… “I love yu girl… be careful…”

He and Martin then shook hands and thanked one another for the help… then Martin returned to what he was doing… Dmitrii saw Adam and went to follow him, taking the rope with him…

[Adelaide d'Aquitaine]

Ada: The room was rather small -- perhaps, at one point, it had been some sort of storage closet. Now, it had been appropriated as a hold for Ada, with only the most basic of facilities. She slept on the floor, having given up on seeing anyone worth speaking to hours ago. Occasionally, she heard heavy footsteps outside. She recognized them as Jed's, and always, someone followed shortly after. He never stayed long, for which Ada was grateful. Without anyone watching her door, she wondered how long it would be before he entered. She lost all track of time, save she had been here long enough for the whip mark on her breast to scab over. It was no longer such a raw wound, but its color and position were worrisome. She had a very real fear it would become infected. The ship became very quiet, without any footsteps overhead or voices calling on the deck. It had to be night. She rolled onto her side and tried examining the wound, but she couldn't see it in the dark, and she was even more afraid to touch it. She sighed, and tried to do as the rest of the ship was doing, and prepare for sleep. She was just beginning to doze when she heard more footsteps outside her door. She heard the knob turn, and in the faint difference of light, saw a familiar shape. "Jean?" Hope hit her like a great wave, sweeping her away from reality, giving her a sense of buoyancy that made the realization that it wasn't him seem that much harsher. "Ghislain."

Ghislain: He entered the room, hushing her, and sat down at her side. "I cannot stay long." She rolled onto her back and refused to reply, but she did make contact with something when she felt his hand touch something it shouldn't have. He hissed at her and grabbed for her hand, holding it still. "I am helping you, you halfpenny whore." The joke made her laugh unexpectedly, which not surprisingly, ended up hurting. He planted his hand across her mouth, and with the fingers of his other hand, pulled out the cork on his flask. She heard it in the dark, and no matter how much she knew he had to do it, began thrashing under his hand. It didn't take long. He dumped the contents of the flask on her wound, thoroughly cleaned the edges, and then released her. "I remember what you said about cuts, Ada. I hope this proves that I am not your enemy."

Ada: She cursed at him and turned away. "With friends like you, Ghislain, who needs enemies?"

Ana: Halfpenny whore indeed of all the women on this Isle Ada would be the last. The dockhand would look upon the ship in wonder it's sails of perfect white kissing the sky with a quick whip of the night. The winds were rushing the docks with a heavy sigh pressing all the ships in the row forward to bump against the planks. On the deck of the Ghost it's captain went over her maps, shifting through the books of Jean's as well. She had not the heart to burn his place, but her patience was growing thin. Over the row of sails she would gaze finding not a single one to resemble Peregrine's..and this made her wonder, "What I do not understand..my dear..is if they are here..Where is the Rebecca Lee?" Brushing her hand across Jed's back she could taste his desire for the woman like poison in his veins, "You are not even paying attention to me are you?" She quipped moving further to the rails, "I'll make you a deal. When we find the machine..I'll let you keep her. Deal? But until then I have to keep her alive..she is key. I know well her feelings run deep, and I also have feeling he will do anything that I ask if I held her." But where were they?

Peregrine: Peregrine felt the air growing thin, and his mind slip in and out. His heart pounded against his chest, but when his eyes parted once more he felt certain he was dreaming. There within the distance the light had surfaced, a single ray of the silver moon. It danced against the wall reflected by the small pool there of the settled surface. It was where Jean had grown his roses, but the ceiling was far too high. Coming to stand his knees were weak, his legs shook with the force of the rise. The fires of the lantern had blown out, and he had to leave Jean-Claude in the dark. "JC.." His words were quiet, coming to see if his friend would be awake yet. "I can see the moon.." He came to kneel beside his companion, who simply was not ready to wake. The light danced over Jean's face if only for a moment and the blood there was enough to cause his own heart to still. Though it did look better. "I don't know these halls, Jean-Claude..you have to wake up." The rocks had covered the exit, but there was more then one way out.

Jean-Claude: "...The rose.." Jean's words were quiet, as he breathed letting his hand come to cover his chest, the impact of their hit having torn the fabric of his glove exposing half of his hand. Peregrine turned then back to face him, asking him how to get out. Jean would mumble through a few words, but soon found himself being sat up. A deep protest left him, and he refused his order very clear to be left. "I can't, Mon ami.." Slipping between French and English, and Peregrine gave a heavy sigh. Wondering why he was not the one to hit his head..he sometimes couldn't even tie his shoes without Jean sometimes..especially if he wore the boots that double laced..simply would never get the hang of it. The light flickered, over the pool as people moved over the surface above.

Peregrine: Coming quickly to his feet, Peregrine let the silver light cross his bare chest, and his boots splashed in the pool. "Hello!" He called out and the sound echoed down the corridors. The sounds of the soldiers were a welcome sound, and for the first time he was thankful to hear Maahes's voice.

Ghislain: "Believe me, when I say you have many," Ghislain said softly, tipping the last of the contents of the flask into Ada's mouth. He held her gently, supporting her in the crook of his arm, making sure she drank even if she claimed she was not accustomed to such spirits. But he knew her well enough to know that what Ada claimed and what was reality were often two different things. She very rarely lied, and with equal frequency, told the truth. He let her settle against him. He could not stay long, but he was not going to leave her. He swept her hair out of her eyes, and lightly covered her with his cloak. Her torn garments did nothing to cover her, but in the dark, she hadn't noticed. He had. His guilt was a powerful force, though its shift was as subtle as the change in tides on a flat shore. "I did not want you to see her," he said, wishing to explain why he'd hit her. But she didn't seem to care, still looking studiously at the wall. "I should have known she would do something like this. She would take you. But I have kept a watch on your door here -- "

Ada: "Ghislain." Ada's voice was very quiet in the dark, a very tired sound obviously plied with too much alcohol in too short a time. "Shut up. And do take this as a kindness -- go away." She sat up slowly, the effects of the alcohol dulling the stinging of broken flesh, and shoved him away. The gesture was ineffectual, but Ghislain seemed to understand what she meant. She held out his cloak for him to take, and scooted against the wall to lean against its support as he left the cell. She dropped her face in her hands and breathed deeply. She didn't know what was going to come next, and Ghislain's confession did not make the unknown any more palatable, but she needed sleep.

Jed: The sound of Jed's boots came with heavy sounds down the stairs as he opened the door. "She wants her up top." He spoke to Ghislain, looking over at the healer against the wall. Everything about him ran hot with desire for her..even in her state. Jed turned to smirk at the man, "Get her all patched up for me?" He grinned at the Frenchman coming to stand beside him, before he moved to hoist the little mistress up. His voice smoothed in a gentle sound as he brought her to stand. "Are in you in much pain, sweetheart?" His voice was deep purring over her cheek as he held her then. "My, my, what a fine one ye' are." He would look to Ghislain, with promise and it was clear he was very content on keeping her safe until the job was done.

Ana: Once on the surface, Ana's spikes cleared the deck with few steps, long legs moving with ease in each step. "Still no word from your lover?" Ana asked with a smirk, uncurling the whip as she waited. "Are you aware it has been three days now?"

Ghislain: "Then I suggest you do not ... delay." Ghislain's eyes were utterly dispassionate as they took in the woman. Her curls were dull and hung limply down her shoulders. The alcohol had not washed off all of the blood, and her bodice hung like a vest around her arms. With the lacings cut, there was really nothing to do about her modesty. He looked to Jed and smiled faintly. "But perhaps you will take a word of advice, as the woman's former lover -- yes, this was all years ago, I assure you -- she left me with a few marks that potions cannot cure, and that I do not like to think of as badges of service. If," he added, stressing the last word, arching his thin brows meaningfully, "you understand my warning. Gentlemen's code." He stepped back, allowing Ada and Jed passage.

Ada: Ada stood slowly, touching to wall to keep her balance. What on earth had Ghislain given her? She felt like she would fall at any moment, and keep on falling. Falling into something soft.... "Oof," she grunted, the process of standing up taking a little too much effort, even with Jed's help. She almost missed what Ghislain said, and if Jed had not been holding her so firmly, she would have launched herself at Ghislain, alcohol or no alcohol. The man was dead to her. She'd give him a mark potions could not cure... On deck, Ada tried to adjust to the sights and smells surrounding her, but she had been in the holding cell for so long, it was all foreign, and overwhelming. She wasn't sure where to focus her attention first. On the waves hitting the bulkheads, the wind in the loose sails, or the click of heels on wood. "Seems not," she said lightly. "And only three, you say?"

Ana: "Yes..three. So it's obvious there is little concern over you. I release you." She waved her hand for the woman to be released. "I would think if he were alive he would come for you." Jed's mouth opened, but he would be quick to let it close. "The law here, is obviously too incompetent to notice you missing, or they simply have their hands full." She turned then making her way back to the wheel before letting her eyes drift back to the men, "Well..release her.." The sidewalks were dark the clouds passing over the moon as laughter spilled out over the dock. In the distance thin frames moved from the corners of every part of this city. Their blank black eyes sank in, and their skin seemed to hang off their bones. Their hair hung in mangled dreads while teeth were black from decay The men moved like a band of fools, pirates set to serve endless calls at sea, but soon they came to surround the plank that would connect her ship to the dock. "Go on, Ada.." Touching the helm she bent forward, but soon uncoiled the whip once more. "He is coming.." She breathed, with a grin watching the black fog spill out, like smoke from the flames.

Ada: Ada looked between Ana and the creatures on the dock. She took a step backward, inadvertently leaning against Jed, until she realized her mistake and quickly moved away. "No, thank you, I think I will stay here for a few more minutes." She gathered the edges of her bodice together in one hand. "I think the law is occupied with the fires. They would never notice my absence." Ada was fine with that. She knew what she said was true, and she also knew Jean-Claude was still alive. That was enough. If he could come, he would. There would have to be a very good reason why he was not here now. She felt a hand close around her shoulder and looked up to find Ghislain at her side. After staring a very long time at the hand, it finally moved, and she relaxed slightly. Even if she had failed to hear his idea of a gentleman's code, he was still the one who had smacked her over the back of the head with one of her candlesticks. The lack of wind was disorienting. Seeing the fog close in did not help.

Ana: Ana was quick to remove herself from the wheel, commanding Ada be tied to the rig, instantly. Her heart stilled watching the rolling black, little wisps of the beginnings tumbling like ribbons in the wind. The smoke made shapes of faces, skulls with mouths wide open inhaling before rolling back into the black. Theatrics. Jean-Claude was always very good at theatrics. Yet the man that surfaced from the blackened hallowed air, was not a well polished gentleman. His coat was tattered, the sleeves torn at the hem. The lace of his tunic stained from the blood, mixing the deep red in well with the white, but it was his face that held all of his suffering. Expressionless, void, angered, and annoyed blood ran down over his face from the gash at his head, his hair matted in locks from the dried blood, and the exposed flesh went to his skull.. None should have survived such a blow, but none carried a mind as this one.

Jean-Claude: "Release her.." His voice was raspy yet deep, clearly not one to be questioned as he made his debut upon the ship.

Ada: "No, get off me, no!" She swung her fist at Jed, and was relieved to see that Ghislain was doing precisely the same thing. But where her fist missed, Ghislain's connected. And where they were two, Ana's men gathered to see that her order was obeyed. She was bound to the rig, and Ghislain was hauled off the deck, and shoved down into the dark hold. Looking wild and unkempt, and more defeated woman than a feral creature, she struggled against her bindings while keeping an eye on the fog, and the figure emerging from the swirling shapes. "Jean." She knew he would come. She knew he would come, and that was precisely what Ana wanted. What was the next step? What would happen to them? The contents from Ghislain's flask made thinking clearly difficult. Had he drugged her? Or was she merely more susceptible, with blood loss, possible infection, and a lack of food and water? She wanted to figure this puzzle out, but her thoughts were scattered, retreating to memories of useless conversations with Ghislain and holding down screaming men in Benoit's shop. Jean -- he was covered in blood. She closed her eyes, wishing the sight of him was not so painful. Where had he been?

Jean-Claude: His face was shadowed by the jet black strands of his hair, dripping still from the blood that moistened from the salty sea air. He kept his eyes down, the tall frame hulking forward in a stance ready and poised to attack. His thin lips curled over the pearly white surface of his teeth in his growl, "Release her.." This was not the gentle heart she had come to know, but an animal. Everything about him seemed to seethe with the rage, as if he had been caged animal waiting for this moment of release. The men behind him could not stand still, like mindless drones they swayed back and forth armed and ready. Their whispers of the battle to come all their dead minds could think of. Once great soldiers now just haunted shells willing and ready to die. With his gaze low on the woman he turned in his step pacing slowly edging her forward in his threat, the pure sight alone enough to rattle her.

Ana: "And what is in it for me?" She asked turning her wrist so the whip snaked around her feet, and Jean was well aware the end of her weapon would hit his love long before he was given a chance.

Jean-Claude: "Name it."

Ana: "You know what I want."

Jean-Claude: "As you wish." Jean's words were given well before he even gave a second thought. That machine mattered very little to him, but this woman hanging from Ana's rig was his world.

Ana: "Take me to it."

Jean-Claude: "I cannot do that, it is hidden well." Ana moved forward, flicking her wrist until the whip was airborne only to break the sound barrier and not someone's flesh. Jean still flinched, his eyes worriedly watching Ada until the whip fell at her side once again.

Peregrine: The crowd gathered would part, making way for the pirate King who was in better shape than Jean-Claude, but still looking rather worn. Frankly, he was simply dirty and bruised..the blood that was on his hands belonged to Jean-Claude. "I'll meet you half way."

Ana: The pirate stated his shirtless form heaving to catch his breath from running. Ana moved her eyes between the two men and gave a nod. "You have a big gunship, boy. I would dare say it best be empty. I keep them both until you bring me the device." Peregrine gave a nod then, looking back to Ada before moving his eyes over Jean. That whip could kill her, and he knew this woman heartless enough to do it. Jean-Claude gave him a nod reassuring he would be fine. The men at the docks would wait, for orders that would never be given. Ana wished them gone. The pirate would need their help to get the orbit out of the trees and back onto his ship. Taking his leave, Peregrine had not been gone but a moment before Ana looked to Jed and ordered him to follow her wandering child. Jean would reach out at her betrayal only to have men clasp his arms, and force him down to his knees. "Set sail men, three stars." Meaning just far enough to be out of reach of any land cannon. Ana would turn then to JC, smiling. "Was there something you wish to say?"

Jean-Claude: He looked then to Ada, shaking his head, "Release her! Leave her here. She can do nothing more. You have what you want."

Ana: Ana laughed then shaking her head, "No..watching this side of you is far too intriguing. Jean..I enjoy this begging, though it is a change. At first you did not want me to stop, and now.." She waved her hand for them to turn Ada around, and with a flick of her wrist the whip would go soaring for the bare flesh of her back.

Ada: She listened to the water hitting the bulwarks. It was not a gentle lapping, but an actual physical pounding, a crush of one immovable force against the temporary wood bastion. How long would it take for the ship to decay? The sound wove its way into her mind, curling around her thoughts with a familiar, snake-like pattern. She knew this drug. It made her thoughts slow, turned them blue. And through the color, wave-like, undulating coils of a drug that made men dream when taken in small doses or rave with nightmares if abused. A few drops to encourage sleep; half the bottle to draw on death. She sighed. She heard her breath escape, loud between the negotiations between Ana and the men. She looked up to see Peregrine. Why were they both covered in blood? How much of this was the drug, and how much reality? Certainly, they had all struggled to arrive at this point, but Jean covered in dirt, and Peregrine in blood -- her mind could not make sense of it suddenly, and she had the distinct, lingering impression that it should have made sense. It should have frightened her. She felt her hands free for a moment, able to wiggle her fingers and let sluggish blood flood back into the tips, so that they tingled painfully. Then they were bound again, overhead, and the torn bodice thrown onto the ground so that cold air hit her back. Sea and stars, it was like ice, this air -- it clung to her back and crackled when she breathed. She thought about the machine and the warm light, and how she had laughed with wonder when she pushed it into motion. How happy they had been that night, how pleased Jean had been. It fell apart in shreds, cut through with a whip crack, and a burst of heat from one shoulder to another that made her scream involuntarily. She felt like her back was pouring blood, but in reality, only a thin line appeared along the raised welt.

Jean-Claude: There had been so many times over his life he had felt his heart completely still, but now he simply begged for death. This suffering burned his very soul, worse then the flames of his destruction. It was his fault she was there, if he had never let his love be known. She was happy with her life before him, she smiled, she did not carry such wounds, Ren was a good man, and would have made a fine husband. If only he had not been so selfish. Jean-Claude would give a stranger the shirt from his back, his worst enemy a helping hand, but he denied her so long the truth. "Stop.." He begged, tears chasing his flesh cutting lines through the stains upon his cheeks. "You must..she is key." He cried then, defeated, of course he could give her the machine, but how could she have started it? This was his trick, but in his confession he gave up everything. "You cannot start it without her." He breathed his chest heaving with his breath, unable to catch up to his pounding heart. "Only she." He rose his eyes defeated to the woman who held his love so easily at end of her whip. Ana waved her hand then and the men let go of Jean as he stood.

Ana: "Well..then, that changes everything now, doesn't it?" As she motioned for Jed to release her, and Jean's eyes blazed watching the man touch her.

Jean-Claude: "Infection will kill her. You must let me heal her."

Ana: Ana closed the distance between her and the scientist, "You have until dawn." With that she would take her leave, waving her hand over her shoulder at the men, "Take them down below, make sure they cannot escape..and get him what a healer would need..Though I doubt it would be much."

Jean-Claude: Jean's eyes followed Jed as he carried Ada then, before letting his attention turn to the smaller framed man, "Warm water, salt water, a needle, twin, and please, monsieur, as clean as you can cloth, bandage..to wrap." He could barely talk right.

Ada: She bowed her head, cringing when she heard Jean give away his last card. She couldn't look at him, afraid she would burst into tears like a child, too uncertain to say whether they were of relief, fear, or something in between. Jed untied her hands and they fell to her side, causing the skin on her back to crackle with heat. She tried to walk away from Jed, holding out her hands in mute insistence she could walk, but he picked her up regardless of the wound on her back. Though her wounds burned, she failed to care, draped listlessly over his shoulder and grateful, at least, her breasts were temporarily covered by his body. She was tired of feeling so exposed. "Wait," she said finally, her voice sounding raw. Jed would easily smell the alcohol on her breath, and the syrupy sweetness of the opium. "Wait." She saw Ana turn slowly toward her. It took the second word to capture the woman's attention. Jed stopped. "Jean's head. He cannot take care of me when he himself is so injured. Please. I have done everything you asked. Please. Ghislain...." She tried to swallow, but it failed to help. So she fell silent again, trying to ignore the placement of Jed's hands on her rear.

Jean-Claude: "Non, Ada..I am fine." He protested her, narrowing his eyes on her. She must be so ill, as all he wished was to keep her well. "I have been through worse." He spoke quietly, folding his hands behind his back to square his feet with his shoulders. Though he looked a mess, there would forever be that sense of nobility to him. It hat been bred into him, beaten by a governess that refused to see him travel the same path his father had failed. "Please..let me see to you first. None of these barbarians could heal you as I, and without you..all would be lost." Ana rose her brow watching the exchange, knowing there was a bigger reason, she watched it on his face even though he did well to hide it. His mask was falling, failing to reprise it's role once again, and no matter how many times he tried to throw it back up it slid right back off. He loved her, and for this, even she could pity.

Ana: "Ghislain..make sure he as well gets treatment. It would be such a shame for us to lose one of the smartest people on this ship. At least not until I get my power."

Down they would go to the open floors of the lower level, where beds lined the walls nailed to the floor, and the gunships's windows open. They could slip out easy if it were not for the guards, but one thing Jean was quick to notice there were very few cannons.

[Adelaide d'Aquitaine]

Ada: She breathed easier knowing Ghislain wouldn't die for his rash response to Ana's order to tie her again. He could look at Jean-Claude's head, and put the scientist back together again. He was such a proud man, she doubted he knew how severe the cut on his head was, but she could see it clearly. Likely Ana did too, and she was playing them both to her advantage. Jed dropped Ada unceremoniously onto one of the beds, trying not to grin lasciviously when she yelled in protest, and quickly rolled onto her side. The pressure on her wound was too much, and even though the whip mark was thin, it was bleeding a great deal, and left a long smear on the mattress. She reached out for Jean-Claude, taking his hands in her own and pulling him close. "I knew you weren't dead. I knew it. They tried to tell me you were gone, but I didn't believe them," she whispered fiercely. The opium swirled across her vision, and for a few minutes, it looked as though Jean-Claude stood in multi-colored clouds of chimney smoke. She blinked. Perhaps aware of how strange her expression was, she looked to where Ghislain was. The man had a rising bruise covering most of his face as a result of being thrown down into the hold, but looked as nonchalant and dispassionate as always, looking up now that he had company. "Ghislain gave me something. I don't think I will be very useful to her. Not until it wears off. What ... what if she asks me to do something now? And I can't do it? She will kill you for lying. And I'll wish I was dead." Her fears weren't irrational. She had been trying to puzzle this out for three days in total darkness. Time had given her logic a chance to blossom into utter panic.

Jean-Claude: "Hush." He ordered her, as the way Jed handled her simply did not sit well. "Ada please..Already your blood dries. I cannot let it trap infection." His hands were trembling, but he quickly removed his gloves. The water that rushed over them was to clean, but in many ways it was his calm. She continued, and he listened more intently but it was when the tray was brought to him she would lose him. There was a change in him as he worked, his mind left his thought, his eyes looked only upon his work. The rest of the world was closed out as he was a perfectionist and the woman below him was what mattered most. Ghislain would look upon Ada and frown, but the worry she as well carried made his heart hurt. He would start to wet a few bits of cloth to at least start cleaning JC's wound.

Ghislain: "It appears you were struck.." Ghislain spoke to Jean, but knew only Ada would be listening.

Jean-Claude: Ada continued, and Jean would snap, breaking his concentration to answer them both, "Ada, I already wish I was dead. I should have died in those fires, but I continue..you will too." He would wave away Ghislain's hand, "Please..not until I am finished. Give her something to bite..she will need it." The needle was sanitized then over the fire, her wound washed..now he simply needed to sew it, but damn his hands. Damn those burnt, scarred, mangled hands! They would not stop shaking, and he would cover his eyes with one hand taking a deep breath to calm. He wanted to die. In this moment he wished he would have never met her, to have selfishly taken what was offered

Ghislain: "Jean-Claude..you have lost much blood..Please, how can you heal her if you have no strength to even thread the needle." Ghislain was right, and when his eyes opened he realized he was seeing double until it all went away with time.

Jean-Claude: "You will have to drug me, I do not handle well with anyone else handling my wounds." That came with the fires.

Ghislain: It had been easier with Ada's mouth covered to deal with her screams. Now she clung white-knuckled to both sides of the bed as Jean washed her wounds, and Ghislain had not heard such noises since his last battle several years ago. He had hoped to never hear such sounds again. He had hoped, too, never to hear them from those he loved. From his pocket, he found the bottle of opium he had used to spike the alcohol in the flask, and gave enough to Ada that she wavered for a moment, and then plunged into deep sleep. He watched as the blood entered her hands again, and she relaxed on the bed. He rubbed his hand across his mouth and then considered Jean-Claude. "She needs her own bed. I need room to work." He waited for the scientist to move, and handed the vial of opium to Jean while he went to find more alcohol. Ada had taught him not to trust salt water. It worked, indeed, but it was not as powerful as liquor. God knew why it worked, but it did. He had seen it with his own eyes the difference Ada's suggestions made. While Ada was asleep, he turned her onto her side and examined the cut under her breast. In the light, it looked as bad as he had expected. Small red lines radiated out from the wound, and it smelled ... sweet. Like death. She had not yet started to burn with fever, but she would soon. Already, her skin was cool to the touch, and her face colorless. He heard Jean fall over into his bed, and assured his patients were out, picked up the first of the supplies, and started on Ada's back. He worked quickly on both of them, his stitches not as skilled as Jean's and not as efficient as Ada's, but he was a good student. He was a credit to his teacher. At last, he set the needle down, cut his last suture, and went to find a corner of his own to find some sleep, and give the two lovers some privacy.

Ada: Ada woke first, the itchy, dry feeling along her back reminding her of her wounds. The spidery-feeling stitches were not painful, if she did not roll onto her back. But the cut beneath her breast ached. It was hot and uncomfortable, and radiated pain. She sat up slowly, and began to take in their surroundings. It was better than the cell, at least. Light came in through the portholes, and fresh air. She could tell what time of day it was, and if her stomach did not churn so horribly, she might have remembered she was nearly three days without food.

Jean-Claude: He would have needed little of that drug, as he fell quickly, and this would be the lowest any of them would ever see. Jean-Claude was not one to get caught, nor one to take a hit, but when an entire cave was falling in upon you.. little could be helped. He spoke in his sleep, in French talking of Ada as only perhaps Ghislain could understand. His love for her ran deep, and somewhere in the midst of his conversation he confessed how this would affect him. He planned on leaving, but once Ghislain would wash away the blood his mind seemed to return. His hair would be cleaned, washed, Ghislain would even change strip him of the tattered overcoat, leaving at least something a bit more to his standard. His eyes parted slowly dark orbs that had little need to adjust to the light, all he would concern himself with was Ada. His head was pounding behind his eyes, the ringing had yet to stop, but the sight of her took him. "Adelaide.." He whispered reaching out for her..she seemed so close until he reached out falling short. "How are you feeling? Tell me it does not hurt..please."

Ada: She crawled out of bed and joined Jean-Claude in his, curling up at his side. He was so cool to the touch, she sighed in relief as she rested her head on his chest. She wanted to see the wound Ghislain had stitched, but did not have the energy to lift herself again, turning her face only to press her lips to the fabric of his shirt. "I dreamed about you," she whispered. "It is how I knew you were not dead. I dreamed you were coming to me. You came through the door and sat down by my fire. You took off your boots, and I had tea waiting for you." She smiled, and fell quiet for a long time, running her hand down his chest, as if making sure he was all still here. "I had a different dream last night. I think it was the opium." She yawned and closed her eyes. In her mind, she made perfect sense. She wasn't afraid anymore, just tired. Whatever Ana wanted from her, it could wait. Whatever Ghislain's motives were, no longer mattered. Jean-Claude was here. If she only knew what he was thinking, wishing he had never known her to spare her the pain, she would have slapped him. Or laughed. Or both. She didn't want a life of not knowing him.

Jean-Claude: She was the breath of fresh air, the wind that blew over their face a collective cool, but the feeling of her there could almost make him realize they were simply on the Rebecca Lee. He curled his arm around her, the one that did not act as her cradle, drawing her closer so carefully, "The fires took everything, but it was not Pere's fault. She planted them. It is my fault..I should have let her just have it. I know the machine well enough, I could recreate it. My pet..all I could think of was my pet, and how scared she would be. It was a trap, Peregrine didn't even open the door before the powder took off. I grabbed him, protected him as the roof caved in. There..holding my companion, all I thought of was getting back to you. I could feel you, this spell..connection. For days we were down there, but I knew I could not die. Not yet." He whispered kissing her temple gently propping up to lean over her enough that he could go over her body. He did just as she wished..he wanted to see her wound, and as he lifted the shirt already he started to critique her wounds.

Ada: "She wanted to know where it was. But I couldn't tell her anything. I didn't know." Her attempt to keep him from looking under the shirt Ghislain must have pulled over her wasn't a very serious one. She would have reacted the same way. She felt like she was wearing too many bandages on her back, but she was grateful for them now that she had to put her weight on them. "Momma came to my shop. She wanted to tell me something, but I forgot what it was. I think it was important." She switched to French, either forgetting or too tired to speak in their adopted tongue, her Embrun accent one he wasn't very familiar with, save from their first meeting, when she had been too new to Paris to realize her accent marked her. The brushing of fabric across her skin felt miserable, like sand heated under a desert sun, and she squirmed half-heartedly. "It looks bad, doesn't it? It is deep, and in a bad place. Ghislain cleaned it, before you came. Oh, yes... Momma. Maahes came, when she was talking to me. He brought your pet. She is in my garden, I think. That is where I left her. He said she was digging in the rubble." She grew bored, waiting for him to finish with her, and turned onto her side, curling into him again to go back to sleep. "I am glad Peregrine is all right. It means I did not lie to Lady Rosalind. I think..." she sighed, blinking her eyes open. "I think her daughter is going to be a handful."

Jean-Claude: Her accent was perfect reminded him of the spring when all those from Emburn came to the markets in Paris. She was such a heavenly woman, who even now acted on his behalf that it all did not matter. They were in the now..she pulled him back down when he flew too high. "Their daughter, hmm? I had always figured him to always have boys." He was thankful to hear of his pet, he held a very dear attachment to his beloved wolf, but..how was it Maahes knew where the both of them were? A strange thing to ponder, as his pet was perhaps just getting her favor back. She had after all pulled the Beast's son from the river. "It is not too bad, when we are finished here and returned home I will do my best to keep it from showing." Not that you could hide that! "I simply worry of infection..before I left my body he was not cleaning as he went..I tried to protest, but I fear I was too weak to even raise my head." He thought of Peregrine then, worried for him, but was very content to live in the moment and hold his beloved while she healed his heart..and he her body.

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

Peregrine: All that could go wrong in this world started with Ada hanging there by her hands. It was an image that pressed him to run until his lungs burned. He hurt all over, was covered in the earth, and up to his ears in blood. Darting through the crowd it was expected of him to often be naked, partially or complete; running from a jealous lover or for his life..both many times. However, on this night he ran not for his life, but for another. He would have to get to the forest, and as they came to the edge ordered those that could keep up to continue on. It had been nearly a week since he had last seen Rosalind, and perhaps before it would have been his normal. Yet, he was to be a father to their child, and a loyal husband. Too many times had she sat in her rooms worried, waiting. They could start without him, they knew the code--Momma would have to know. It had slipped him he was being followed, there were so many moving as he did, but when he turned back to make a small stop by the castle, it would be when he came to her doors would he try and catch his breath. "Rosalind..put Aldric to bed." He called through the doors, not wanting her son to see him in such a state. Colban wouldn't let him live it down.

Rosalind: He could hear her singing through the doors, with the Lamont guards pretending they could not hear her, though to be honest, her voice was sweet and pleasant to hear. It was just very strange to hear the woman singing, as if they might expect Rosalind to do nearly anything except singing French lullabies. She shut the door on Aldric's room and went back to the fire, where her glass of wine was waiting. It was then she heard Perry's voice through the door and jumped right back to her feet. He was usually absent for long periods of time, but not since she told him about the baby. Perhaps he still slept in a tree to remind himself of where he was from, but he more often kept warm in her bed, and she had to admit, she really liked this new leaf of his. She cracked open the door, aware of how serious his tone was, and looked him up and down. "Sweet Christ," she blasphemed, crossing herself almost immediately and pulling him inside. "Peregrine! What happened? What is the matter? Ada came by asking where you were, but I did not know to worry! Jean-Claude?" The two men were inseparable. She knew well to ask him where his friend was, and that it was usually his major source of worry. She also knew she could insist he clean himself up, and that he would only ignore her. There would be time for baths and a change of clothes later, but he was out of breath, red in the face, and covered in blood.

Peregrine: "I don't have much time." He breathed, looking the room over to simply make certain Aldric was asleep. "Jean-Claude is fine..for now. I hope." Peregrine would then start over the room sweeping for any sign of anything out of the ordinary. "The fires, started by a crazy whore. Well no..I started it, but she made them spread. The cave came down, Ada's been taken, I have to give her a machine." He turned then raising his hands to still himself, knowing she only ever knew half the truth. Rosalind didn't dive into his world, she walked blindly around the subjects, not ready to face that another of her lovers was a fool. "Long story short, I could die tonight, tomorrow. She's crazy. I won't let her take him, and am going to do everything I can." He put his hands on his knees bending to catch his breath, as he simply just needed a little time. However, outside the door he watched the lights in the hall flicker, the stones of the walk were crossed by slow careful steps. "Shhhh." He covered her mouth, ears perking to listen like a fox on the hunt. Once she was quiet, he would start slowly for the door grabbing the first blunt object he found, the fire poke. Thankful for it's already heated edge, he started for the door, only to throw it back and slip into the hall. The sounds of the fight would continue, until there was a sizzle, and a curse. "chyt." It was one of the army. He just killed a man in dress colors.

Rosalind: "You hope? Fires? A machine, what?" It took her a moment to flicker from concerned to furious. Even Sax lifted his head and stared quizzically at the exchange in the doorway. That he now had a position of honor on the sofa meant he must have come a long way in Rosalind's heart, despite her frequent absences at the castle. She backed up a step. "You could die, Perry, what the hell is the matter with you, are you mad? I never ask to know a single thing you do when you are not with me, but I think I am too tolerant -- I think I am too forgiving -- did you forget about our -- Mmphmmphahm." His hand was filthy. She folded her arms across her chest once he left, retreating to the sofa where she debated between rubbing Sax's tummy or finishing the wine in a single gulp. She chose the dog, watching the door like a hawk, and not liking the sounds she heard. She might have been worried if she did not recognize his voice cursing in the hallway. With time to spare, she picked up the cup of wine, and took a hearty swallow. She needed to pick her men more wisely in the future.

Peregrine: Blood on the carpets once he pulled the body inside, and shut the door once again his breath heaving once again. Peregrine would slide down the closed door, his eyes falling shut with the world pulling dark. He just wanted to rest, was all. "Rosalind, how good are you at hiding bodies?" He would stretch over the floor leaning his head against one of the shelves, clearly unwilling to move just yet. "I figured she would send someone after me." He hated to feel as if there was a shadow always over his shoulder, but he needed time to think. "She's crazy..a woman, wants something and will do anything to get it. Rosalind, this is one of the greatest treasures we've ever found. Jean-Claude has worked so hard on it. We would have just fought her, but she's got Ada..and now Jean. I'm going to trade, just need..to..get..my head back." Pere fell back on the floor then his arms spread and he felt home. One trip to home..all he would need. Curling his hands behind his back as if nothing had happened he would ask her from the floor, "Baby doing ok?”

Rosalind: "Very nice," she said icily, staring hard at the body. "What on God's earth do you think you are doing murdering a uniformed guard and bringing him into my home? No, I am not good at hiding bodies, I am not a murderer! Pere, get it out of here. And you, too. Get out. I will not have this, not with Aldric asleep, not in my home, not in the castle. What on earth are you thinking -- are you even thinking?" She put her hands to her face, then swept them back through her hair, muttering to her maker in French with her eyes tilted heavenward. "I just bought those carpets, Pere," she added, anger fading to exhaustion. She sat down abruptly next to the couch, and held her stomach in her hands. The curve was not visible under the dresses and tabards she wore; it would not be visible for a few more months, and this was fine with Rosalind. Life moved too quickly. "Tearlach," she called, and the door swung open, revealing an older gentlemen with gray in his beard. He took one look at the floor and the couple spread out, the blood on the carpets, and the body, and nodded. Rosalind didn't know what to do with a body, but a veteran of Bannockburn did. Within moments, the stained carpets and the corpse were gone, and Rosalind leaned against the sofa, her hands still buried in her hair. She had no idea where to even begin, save she had never had any intentions of living her life as a shrew.

Peregrine: A shrew indeed. "Rosie.." He stood once the man entered, giving the older gentlemen a look of his apology. "I'm not thinking, I shouldn't have come here..just thought you would be worried." He crossed the room to dip his hands in the water basin, before splashing his face drying with the towel. "I've been stuck in a cave for 4 days, trying to keep my best friend alive, ok? I need you right now to be calm..please." He looked over the room again the sights of the bedding almost took his breath away as his desire ran deep to be in them. "I'll buy you new carpets. I'll buy you a hundred new carpets." Opening one of the chests he would start his search for anything that would have perhaps been his to wear. "Do I have any clothes here? God, my life is a mess." He was a mess, but the figures out the windows captured his attention as he came to look. Paranoid. The pirate would fall to one knee hands clutching the window bench, as if he were to start praying, "If anything should happen, there is a small fortune buried beneath the old oak in the forest. The tall one in the middle of the clearing. Enough, to keep you and Aldric happy for the rest of your days." Part of being a pirate. "Another stashed at Jean's under the floorboard there by his desk, just enough to run if you need to. Maybe start the babies life out right." He had been up against worse enemies before, but never this exhausted. Red tired eyes turned to her, and in a very serious tone. "If I survive this, it will be my last. I'll turn my ship over to the navy and serve there. I'm getting too old for this."

Rosalind: Rosalind's sniffle was the only sign she had started crying. She covered her mouth with one hand, and with some effort, got to her feet. "Wait a moment," she told him in French, rubbing at her eyes as she pushed open the door leading to the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, one arm filled with a basin of water, things for a quick bath floating within, and draped over her other arm was a towel and a fresh set of clothes from where she kept his things at the foot of the bed. "Stand up." She arranged everything, taking him over to the hearth, so that when he undressed he wouldn't get chilled, telling him to raise his arms as she dragged the natural sponge quickly along his skin, wiping at her eyes when she saw dried blood, loosened by the water, though by the end of his bath, she wondered who was wettest. She handed Perry a towel, holding it up at eye level. Maybe he wouldn't see the tears tracking down her cheeks. "So," she said, taking the towel from him and dabbing at her own eyes.

"I am going to ignore everything you just told me. Ada told me not to worry, so I am not going to worry. You are going to come back, and you are going to do whatever it is you do -- I do not know, because I am smart, and I do not ask. Arms up." She tugged the shirt over his head and tied the laces at his neck. "And if you track any more blood into my house, Peregrine, we will see if you can really fly." She put her hands on her hips and canted her head, as if daring him to challenge her. "Do not mess with me, pirate. You promised you would build us a new home, and this place is too small for the four of us. Five," she added quickly, looking at Sax, who seemed rather mystified by his humans' bathing rituals.

Peregrine: A very serious tone washed over his face, a sobering look that had once captivated her at it's rarity. Her tears were rare, more so then her smiles, and he had done well until now to avoid them. When she was finished his hand came to touch the side of her face softly, brushing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. "I am going to build you that house, and I'll..God..don't cry." He teared up at her own pulling her into his arms, running his fingers over the back of her neck, "You can't cry." His free hand came to rub her hip slowly making it's way over to where the little bump would be, "Only happy thoughts, for this child." Pressing his forehead against her own he kissed the corner of her eyes, drying the tears. Wrapping his arms around her back he pulled her against him, but would press his face into her neck and sighed. "He saved my life. If I didn't show at dawn, she would kill them both, then burn this castle down.." Raising his face to her, is hair seemed wild as if he had just pulled awake from deep slumber, "I ask too much of you..but one more thing? Find Ealora..Jack..any that would listen, tell them to ready their gunships?" Craziness to have his pregnant wife, or would be soon leaving her safety, but he would trust none else.

Rosalind: "No, no, I do not mean to cry, stop that." She laughed, kissing his closed eyes. "I will be doing a lot of crying, Perry. It is how things are. But I was so worried. She told me not to, which of course made me worry more, and you came covered in blood. I love you too much." She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the now clean scent of him, though there was still a wildness that soap couldn't take away. She drew his hands to her stomach, and made sure he felt through the fabric what was not yet visible to the world, but which was most precious to her. "How we got into this mess is apparent," she said wryly, glancing up at him. "But how you get into others? I do not know. You will get out of it, though." She had a direct line to Bess. She would tell the Duchess herself. If Bess would not listen, she would find Ealora. The woman had a reputation for doing what was right, if not what was legal. This suited Rosalind's purposes just fine. For a fine, law-abiding citizen, she certainly had come a very long way in the past year, from blackmailing the Pope to having another child out of wedlock. "No more talk about a future without you. I won't hear it. I won't listen to it."

Peregrine: She was never like this. Never. Ever. What had come of her? This real emotion shifted over his heart like a wave hitting the shore. Rosalind wanted to be close to him, have him near, and not only of her fear. He smiled with her nuzzle, holding her hands once he got his feel. "I'll get out. Of all of it. Keep tempting me like this, and who knows I might actually get a grown up job." He teased pulling away before he knew he would fall. Though the warm fire, the bath, and her sweet words..Mmmmm, he was ready to fall. He was slipping, and a moment passed before he even realized it had gone. "Mmmm," Snapping he shook his head, "Jean-Claude, saved my life. Covered me from the falling rock. I better be ready for this fight..need to load the ship...but..Mmmm," Peregrine took her hand and pulled her to the bed, slipping into the covers. He could not go on, not without a little rest, no..Lord he wanted to stomp his feet like Aldric. "I love you." He laced his fingers with hers before he kissed her, slipping out into the night. "I'll see you in the morning." He called back over his shoulder before running into the wall, grumbling and moving on.

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

Dmitrii was lost in the battle against a blaze, as was many who stood by him. Fire had caught a house afire, and in the midst of handing bucket after bucket… he could only trust Aegraine was doing what she did best… Oh where were the days of bliss, where they would lie together under a fall tree, dodging the leaves as they fell… he truly loved the girl… and prayed to God she would be alright… He could not lose another love… or he would forsake love altogether….

Just then a forceful nudge at his arm, the water sloshed at his boots… A man was handing him yet another bucket…

Meanwhile, Aegraine ran closer to where the fire spurted between buildings, to direct the improvised pipes of water where it was needed. Suddenly, she felt a burning heat in the pendant she wore under her uniform, next to her skin. It was the medallion that she had Dmi shared, half of the heart each one wore. There were times it had felt warm to her touch and reminded her she was loved, no matter where they were when apart. This time, it sent her a danger warning. Startled by the burning coal heat of her necklace, Ae stopped and got back from the spot where the fire began to dance along the house timbers, running back and waving her arms to the others, "Back! The wall's about to.."

She got clear and safe, as did her fellow workers as a wall fell into the street right where she had been but a moment ago. Call it luck, or call it something else, the metal of her necklace had conducted the heat from the danger to her and Ae reacted. She stood a moment, quiet in the midst of chaos and touched the half of the heart medal they shared and gave thanks for the life she had so far and the future promised.

The fire burned for several days… Turas Lan’s entire human population was involved in extinguishing the blaze. Still in the UnderDark, fires raged in certain areas… unknown is the source of the fires continuous burn. The main concern now was eliminated…fires that raged so hot, the tunnels making funnels of their labyrinth, that the street above was breaking apart… and buildings burned like dried sticks.

[Adelaide d'Aquitaine]

Jean-Claude: The hour grew late, the moon half way through the night, but the world was very close. October skies always held the brightest largest lunar visions, and tonight there was a brilliant show. Ada was well into her dreams, peaceful now, or so he thought, and as he rest beside her inwardly he worried. The scientist had never been one to care deeply of what was to come, living in each moment, or perhaps his work. There had been such a change in him, that even the night that fell around them seemed to whisper and point out the best in him. In moments like this he was such a sight, and was thankful nothing would show his reflection. Though Ghislain had done a decent job..it would not have met his standards, and had Ada not gone into a fever he would have changed many of Ada's stitches. "Mon chatte..do not forget me here." He whispered against her knuckles as he brought her hand to his cold pale lips. He would never forgive himself for the trouble that has fallen upon her, though even now he could hear her say how it followed her like a stray cat.

Ghislain: Ghislain rested in a chair near the door, head against the wall, one long lanky leg folded over the other. He seemed not to care about anything. He certainly did not care to engage Jean-Claude in conversation. The man was too wracked by guilt to be worth speaking to, and Ghislain had enough guilt for everyone in the room and more. But through narrowed lids, and down his long nose, he watched Ada sleep. Whatever god he prayed to was kind; her terrible fever had broken. Her lips were as white as her skin, and her hair was so flat, she did not resemble any previous version of Ada he had ever known. But as time passed, he realized he was bored. He was not going to redeem himself with Ana, Ada was deep in her sleep, which meant the only person he could talk to was Jean-Claude. And he knew not the first thing about the loon currently holding Ada's hand. He stood up slowly and went to the porthole, resting his hands on the edge and staring out. He did not care if they were freed or rotted here. There was no future without her. She had always treated such dire statements with a lighthearted laugh and told him to find another hobby, but it was true. He had made his career on her predictions. When she left France, everything had fallen apart, from his relationship with Valois, to his place in the court, to his failed negotiations with Rosalind. Ada saw everything before it even neared the horizon, but was painfully blind to the course of her own life. Here, on this ship, it might have ended with the fever that made her rant like a wild woman, of chess games and abysses, kings and her scientist. "What has she told you?" Ghislain asked, trying not to sound accusing, but it was difficult to think of Jean as anything but standing in his way. It made him petulant, and his approach abrupt.

Jean-Claude: A ghostly figure sat there by her bed, with the gentle breeze sweeping over him pressing the raven black strands over one shoulder. His skin taut across his face today seemed to show through to the structure. His eyes were haunting, black smoke swirling with gold; the color so rich they appeared to have no direction as very few could tell if the man caught their eye or simply looked through to their soul. His motions were very fluid, but his stillness could not be matched; as when he wished he could appear a statue, where as the only feature that looked alive would be the well managed black atop his head. "She has told me many things," his voice was dry, overwhelmed but slowly regaining it's composure, "I am sorry, but you will have to be more specific. Of you, I have heard nothing. Mindless comments here and there, but nothing of importance...or at least important to us." Buuuuurn, by a gentleman, the distaste for this man had grown very much.

Ghislain: Ghislain turned from the window, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Had he picked up the habit from Ada from long association, or had she picked it up from him? No matter. It did not bother him if it was disconcerting to see such a familiar gesture on such a detestable man. "About the future, but of course. She gave you the speech about what is, what will be, and what may be?" His next words he contemplated deeply, knowing full well Jean-Claude was a man to take offense if they were arranged improperly. Ada, however, would not care one way or another what she was called. It is only a name. Sticks and stones. "She is important to me, not because of what she is. I lost sight of that, and then I lost her. This is my fault, and I do accept the consequences, though I wish I had understood them more fully -- when I was in France. It would have saved me the journey here. She can do more than make you happy, young, divinely inspired. I am just curious. If she spoke, when the door was open." He always thought of it as a door, no matter how much she talked about lightning or water wheels. "Forget it." He waved his hand and turned back to look out the window.

Jean-Claude: If this man was seeking dirty secrets he would find none here, Jean did not kiss and tell. However, there was a willing man below this underlying loon. "She has always been so open, so eager to please. I have listened to her talk for hours of simply the heavens. We did a great deal of talking during our courtship. The door..as you call it, has only been opened to me once. I beg her not to do it again, as it has lead to this very reason." He gestured to the sleeping woman beside him. "It makes her a target..a kind gentle heart would be taken advantage of." Jean would turn his face towards the man, accusations left in eyes a plenty. "I care very little of why you lost sight of her, and pity you all the same. She need do no more then what you suggest. I am only willing to ask what she would wish in return. I will give just the same, but I dare say I will not use her to get what I want." He narrowed black eyes on the man then, going over in his mind how perfect his collection of skulls would be should he acquire the one right before him.

Ghislain: "She does talk a lot." He smiled, but angled it off toward the window, unwilling to share the memory with him. "About everything." Perhaps this man was right to hate him. He would not be the first. Though, of course, he would be unique in his reasoning. Ghislain left the window and sat down on the edge of the bed near Jean-Claude and Ada. He smoothed the fabric of his breeches, though they wrinkled again almost immediately. Such were the consequences of their confinement. "It does make her a target. But those that pursue it are not necessarily evil." He looked at him, then at her. He detested the sick. They were weak and mortal, two things he chose not to acknowledge of himself. Both looked too frail, too close to death, particularly Jean-Claude, a man who had the skin of a shut-in. "You begin in wonderment, taking what she offers. You do not doubt her when she says she will give, if you but ask. It seems not to bother her. You ask, and you ask again. She never says no. It is her right to say so, you think, and so you do not question her wisdom. After all, she is wise in nearly everything else. But Ada, she would not complain. She does not look back. She never sees how far she has come, until the moment she wakes, and knows she has gone too far." Honfleur. She had shaken him free when he tried to help her. All of Paris burned just a few miles away, and of the two to survive, why they? "Only once. Then perhaps you do not yet see the attraction. The addiction."

Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude would laugh then, that eeire beautiful sound that could perhaps put another in a trance, "You do not know me, but if you learn nothing else keep this in mind." He would pull his exposed hands back letting them fold together and fall between his knees. "I am not attracted to power. Never have I been. I come from a very wealthy family, and I have never wanted of anything. My drug is in my work, my study my addiction. This.." He would motion once again to the sleeping beauty at his side, "Is something I cherish. She is there to remind me to eat, there to force me to sleep when I forget. When she smiles I feel the sun that I have forgotten about, I long to be in it's warmth. Ada is not my means to further myself or advance my career. I keep an open book with her, she takes what she wishes. I challenge her ideas, and she returns with the answers." Jean would lean forward a bit, the hallow nature of his eye seeming out of place and unnatural. "But if you have come for a fix, then look no further, mon ami. I specialize in addiction." The last part whispered across his lips a raspy thin sound, that chilled the spine.

Ghislain: "I was not in search of power." Ghislain folded his hands together. He was not the sort to confess his sins to a stranger, much less help his opponent to Ada, but this was important. It felt important. Perhaps he sensed he was near the end of his race; perhaps it was their long confinement, as Ada fought her own battle with Death. "I was in search of love. I found it, and I desired to keep it. No," he added swiftly, meeting the man's chilling eyes, "not her. Another." He did not know what Ada had told Jean-Claude. Even in the confessional, he would not admit to the relationship he'd had with Valois. It would never be safe, and he would never trust another with such forbidden knowledge. "It will change. Slowly. You will not see it coming. But then one day, you will wake up, and hate what you have become. Maybe you will hate her. I do not say this to anger you. Only to warn. If she offers, say no. Pretend to be a better man than me, and this is a future that she will admit is true." But only if he dared to ask. Ada's code was a strange one, but one he respected. He merely raised a brow at Jean-Claude's specialty. It was an odd threat from a very odd man.

Jean-Claude: It was a strange time to be having this conversation with their fates hanging between the wire. His head hurt, behind his eyes he felt pressure, and his cure was helpless in her bed. "I have loved very few, but I will tell you this. She is not mine to claim. If you wish her, then by all means..if she is willing, but when it comes to knowing our future..I have little reason to wonder. She has told me of your lover, the one that you both shared. I see that you are not a bad man. You are simply lost, but tell me Ghislain..what is it you are looking for? You wish to know your future? To see the door once again? Or simply be in the presence of another who reminds you of him?" The him needed no name, for they both know who they spoke of.

Ghislain: "She won't say no." He laughed mirthlessly, and stood up. He was tired of this conversation. He was tired of Ada's rules. Most of all, he was very tired of looking at a man who should have been his adversary, but merely reminded him of a younger ... him. "If I asked, she would not say no. She would demur. She would say her bed was already full, never mind her waiting list for her other talents. She never says no. So, I do not think you wish me to ask her anything. I have already hurt her by asking once. She chose not to answer." He walked to the other side of the room, following the path of footsteps overhead, as if he could tell by sound where they were going, and who was making them. Anything, perhaps, to distract him from thinking about the future, or thinking about her. "I will tell you what I want. I want it all, just as it used to be. Him, and me. We rode to war together and let his wife rule their home. She was content with the way things were, and all of France could wither and die for all the attention we paid it in one another's company. Ada made us see the error of our ways. She made us think about the future we actually wanted. She inspired us. But I don't want that anymore -- I want to be selfish. I want to not care. I want to forget I ever knew them, but that is not the future she will reveal, is it? Perhaps it is her talent, too, to make a man forget. That is what I want." He sat down in the corner. Usually debonair, he was one word from breaking, and there was no escape. No Ada to make Valois back off, and let Ghislain stew in the mess he'd made of Rosalind's introduction to France. No Ada to keep her men from cheating at chess. "I hope she wakes soon. We could use a fresh topic."

Jean-Claude: Jean-Claude would laugh then, a small quiet sound this time of an inward battle to shout his point had been proven. He was right! He knew it all along! The moon still bright, the shadows over the floor were darkest just where they touched the light first. This was his space. He could slip in and out of the shadow as if transforming there before the other's eyes. In the pale moon his image could be pictured as the perfect gentleman, poised and polished, but there in the dark his perfect face almost sank in, until even the outline of his brow seethed with danger. "You have cornered me, Ghislain. I know of whom you speak. You love her..or the idea of what once stood?" Soon he would stand before the man, letting himself fall eye level with him in a crouch. "You are lost, child." He whispered reaching out and touching the man's knee, "But look now at what your search has turned." Releasing his knee he would once again gesture towards Ada. "It is not her who should be punished...but it is not you. Something has gone wrong somewhere...for it was he to turn away." Speaking blindly he had little clue as to how that relationship ended..and was going to ask her if they ever made it back.

Ghislain: Ghislain stared hard at Jean-Claude. This was, he supposed, the man's attempt at being nice. It was more frightening than anything, but Ghislain was used to frightening. He preferred battle to nearly everything in life; it had defined rules, men fought as men, the requirements of life and living were crystal clear. He made mistakes and he atoned for them, as best as he could have. His sister's exile was perhaps the worst, but there had been other mistakes, particularly with his prince. "I do not wish to know what went wrong. Only that I have spent my life loving another. He looked away, for just a moment, and I lost him. I lost her. I am not certain what to do without her, but without him, I have no meaning or purpose. It is not life. It is not something I wish to overcome." He looked to Ada. Was it possible Jean-Claude's life had become as entangled with her, as his had with his lover? Perhaps he could have paid Ada to leave, before they knew her talents. Perhaps. It was difficult for him to separate what she was and who she was. It was not so for Jean-Claude. "You should go back to her. I am fine."

[Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont]

Dusk fell over the horizon like spiders pulling down their web, the silk tonight of blackest black as the air grew colder. Winter was chasing the tails of Autumn in quick rushes falling in behind just as the last warmth of the sun's rays hit the pirate's face. The ship was loaded, the Orrery was set in the heart of the ship, across the fine wooden planks that made up the deck, and held tightly by ropes of gold. She was a glorious ship, the crown jewel. Peregrine kept himself steady at the helm, nerves traced his spine as he set the sails in direction of the blazing ship in the distance.


The Wench Ana: Her body was a swell against the sea, the careful position placed perfectly across the ocean surface, but it was when the wind took her sails did Ana wonder at the amazing beauty before her. "Look at that.." She whispered from parted red lips that curled into a grin, "Bring my prisoners to me." She would order with a wave of her hand, and her crew would jump to rouse the trio. "Captain, wants you up top..it's time!" Jethro shouted down below before his brute hands came to take hold of the Ghislain's arm.

Jean-Claude the Man of Science: Jean-Claude would be first to rise, turning back at Ada to help her up if he must, pulling the covers and all. "Mon chatte..Look there." He motioned to the window at the advancing ship nearly twice the size of the one they were on, "We will be home soon." (d

Adelaide the Key: Ada had yet to spend more than an hour awake.  She still felt hot, and pain unlike anything she had felt before in her life pulsed like a new life under her breast.  Noise stirred her from the nest of blankets, and her first response was to pull the pillow over her head and pretend she'd heard nothing.  She wanted to sleep. She wanted to fall into sleep and wrap it around her like a blanket, in the sort of stupefying rest that could cure anything, a slumber that was only desirable to one who had not had enough rest in far too long.  Or for one who had been asleep for days, fighting a fever so hot,she felt her skin might crackle and peel off.  Jethro's voice reached through the pillow, and she pulled it down to gaze at Jean-Claude, the look then shifting to Ghislain.  "He is here?"  She shuffled out of bed and staggered toward the window, clenching the blankets to her to look out to sea.  Her hair was matted to one side of her face, her skin was sallow, and looking at her face, had noticeably lost weight.  "Oh," she breathed, curling her fingers like claws on the porthole and catching a glimpse of his ship.  It was so beautiful.  Such a beautiful thing to see....  She didn't want to look away.  What if it vanished?  What if this was a fever dream?  She looked back to Jean-Claude, then out the window.  "I want to go home," she whispered. *

Jean-Claude the man of Science: "Yes, My Love, home." He touched her shoulder gently then as if to tell her first that he would be at her side, before he lifted her into the bend of his arms. He pressed his cheek to insist she rest her head against his shoulder, wanting her to save all the strength she could, but as well to check for fever. Again. He could not wait to have her home, with his medicine bag, and well. Dark eyes shifted over Ghislain, seeing the hand of the other man upon his..not so bad competition, and the lines of his lips flattened with the uncontrolled desire to have the man's face plastered against the wall. What a lovely pair of eyes this Jethro had, perhaps once this was over he would add them to his collection. The world above was bright, as the setting sun gave away the light, but the shadow across the deck of the woman's body made him chill.

Ana the Wench: Ana stared down the line of the steps at her toys, like a cat watching it's mouse, playing at first. The smug little grin upon her lips found her mouth inside watering for the flesh below. She wanted this man just as much as any other, but the always calm--always diplomatic, genius had simply caught her. Perhaps it was the love he clearly expressed, though hid so well that made her feel the least bit tempted, but in fact it was simply wanting to see if she could break him. Moving down the steps slowly her boots cried out to the night, and the moment she stood before the trio she would run a gloved hand through the jet black strands of Jean's hair, "The sea winds do you justice, it is no wonder that Pere' has kept you around for so long."

Jean-Claude the Man of Sciece: Jean-Claude did not falter once or move, but arms did tighten around his beloved. "You would be greatly mistaken."

Ana the Wench: Ana cut a smirk once more before glancing down to the woman in his arms, "I heard her cry out many things on this day..What have you thought of them?" Ana then touched Ada's hair brushing her curls from her face, before stepping free from the few and watching the ship advance.

Jean-Claude the Man of Science: Jean-Claude said nothing, letting his dark eyes follow the line of the horizon until it came upon the Rebecca Lee.

Adelaide the Key: "Mm.  I think you chose the wrong way to get me talking," Ada replied, far more diplomatically than her initial desire to hiss at Ana when she dared touch Jean.  She winced at all the light, wishing only to bury her face in Jean-Claude's chest, but there was much to see on deck, much she did not wish to risk taking her eyes from.  Even for a minute, for that was all it took for things to change.  Peregrine's great ship could be swallowed whole, Ana could change her mind, Jean-Claude could be taken away.  "I'm usually very ... " she stifled a yawn.  "Usually very difficult to get me to shut up, so I have been told.  Talk too much." 

Ghislain the Fruit: Ghislain stood behind them on deck, watched by Jedidiah.  The man's face had not done so well since Ghislain's fist made contact with it.  The large bruise had filled with blood, and half of the brute's face had swollen in reaction.  This was very satisfactory.  The Frenchman rolled his shoulders almost cheerfully seeing his handiwork, though he wasn't smiling.  Like Ada, he was skeptical.  Too much could change too quickly, and they were at the mercy of Ana's word.  If she changed her mind, they could all die.  Particularly Ghislain, whose life had not been bartered for.  As a man who made his career on the back of a horse with a sword in his hand, he was not looking forward to a death at sea.  "She cannot help you if she is dead, Ana," Ghislain said, the upper-class drawl as disdainful as ever, though it was clear his eyes rarely strayed from her, or Jean-Claude.  "What you do with her after she is returned to dry land, well, that is a matter of security le monsieur," he nodded defferentially to Jean-Claude, "will have to consider.  Ah, well, and so she is not the only one who talks too much." *

Jean-Claude the Man of Sciece: Jean-Claude's eyes were the color of smoke, the darkness that swirled around them like the depths of the sea--dark water. Ghislian, was given a harsh look, one that could cut through without little effort, and in a single glance told the Frenchman of his soon death; if he did not keep quiet.

Ana the Wench: "I do not wish her dead, I wish none of you dead. I am not such a villain as you paint, My Friend. I simply want what is rightfully mine, and what you are not ready for." She clasped her hands behind her back, her shoulders squared away with his step, and the heaviest of pathetic sigh's escaped her lips, "Always such dramatics with you.." She followed then on her steps to come around behind the lot of them, and would pull her dagger to rest at the small of JC's back, "But I would walk with caution...with arms so full of precious content."

Peregrine the Pirate: The Lee had her rounds circling around the ship before the rigs were pulled back and slowly she would drift in motion forward. Too deep to drop anchor, the ship would find it's mate very closely before both parties started to tie off. "This would have been easier if you would have simply come to get it." The pirate spoke out in mirth, his ever present grin lighting up the night like a fingernail moon--The Cheshire's smile. Peregrine, for the first time in sometime looked his part. His attire fitting of a seadog, and everything was a mess, yet held together so well. "But..you like to keep me on my toes huh?" Coming to stand before Ana, he pulled his sword to have it follow to stand between her boots, tip down. "You have something of mine, and I want it back." Standing inches from her body his eyes burned into her own, and Ana only smiled.

Ana the Wench: "Give me the orrery, first." She smiled narrowing her eyes right back into his own, but pulled back once she heard the pirate laugh. Of course he would not fall for that..."Fine, take your keeper, I keep the woman." Jean's eyes grew wide if only for a moment, "Until the devise is safe..then you may have her back." Before either of them could protest, Peregrine would finalize the deal, and cross back to his companion. Their words were lost as Jean and Pere spoke without the use of their voices, but by exchanged glances. It would not be long before Pere was back on his ship and Ana turned to the trio. "You may give her to him." She motioned to Ghislain, as it appeared none cared about him, "And return to your ship, Cabin Boy." (d

Ghislain the Fruit: When Ghislain spoke, Ada was quiet.  Did Jean-Claude ever notice this?  If she was not speaking, she was not damning herself.  The woman knew to keep secrets, but her body was also burning hot, and the mind was not all there, was it?  He glared back at Jean-Claude, inhaled, and the look vanished as if it had never been. He watched Peregrine board, surprised at the man's appearance, and wondering what the deuce anyone saw that was trustworthy in a scoundrel like that.  And Jean-Claude worried about Ghislain's loyalty?  They were certainly doomed, if that was the prevailing attitude.  Odd negotiations to have, at the points of swords and daggers, and Ghislain listened intently to the words exchanged, having but a moment to feel enraged when the terms were agreed upon.  But he held still as death, waiting, not daring to approach Jean-Claude on such a private matter, not now that they were above deck.  Down blow, it had been a different story.  They had not known any other way to spend the long hours.

Adelaide the Key: Ada stirred, fluffing her hair with the fingers of the hand not plastered between her body and Jean-Claude's.  Words she thought were private were much louder than she had imagined, and she could feel Jean-Claude tense.  Was he angry with her?  She sighed.  "Jean.  Why does she insist she is not a villain?  After all she has done?  Maybe it is not that much to anyone else, but I am very small," she whispered.  She did not hear what the terms were, but she had a feeling her joke couldn't compete with how unfair they were.  She looked between Pere and Jean, wishing they would talk.  She hadn't yet figured out their language.  But when Pere left and Jean continued to look torn, she figured it out, and closed her eyes as if pained.  She likely was; she hurt everywhere.  "Don't leave me with her.  Or him.  Or him."  Jedidiah, with his bruised face, and Ghislain, with his very strange motives.  She would much rather go with Jean, and hide under the blankets again. *

Jean-Claude the Man of Science: "Ghislain.." Jean turned a look over his shoulder to the man, who had so poorly put him back together again. "Take her." Jean ignored his lover's wishes, releasing her into the other's arms, but would place a warm kiss to her temple"You must trust me on this, Ada..I will let nothing come to you. I need you to be strong." Very much so, he wanted her to pull from this weakness. They were so far from Skye, far enough that only the distant castle lights could be mistaken for stars. His cold hand came to brush the hair from her face, before he turned in this autumn's night to see to it the orrery made it's way safely. Walking the plank between both ships, Jean slipped into a roll very few would believe he played. Barking orders at the crew of blood thirsty scoundrels they obeyed easily, and before long the cloth covered devise found itself airborne passing between both ships. A quick pass to his cabin, Jean would return with another coat, a pair of gloves and his weapons. "We cannot let her have it so easy." He spoke coldly over his captain's shoulder, and Pere held tightly to the ropes balancing the main mast. A dark look was given over his shoulder.

Peregrine the Pirate: "You think I would?" He smirked, looking back to Ana circling Ada now, and his heart stilled. "If she asks Ada to start it, force her. Get her up on her feet. Push her." Peregrine pulled himself up on the rail to once again cross  over to the other ship. "You have it.." He spoke out once the devise hit deck and the drape was pulled by Ana's gloved hand. It was a marvel, and her jaw would drop..she had not remembered it so beautiful.

Ana the Wench: Suddenly, the deck was crowded by her crew, coming from hidden corners to surround the Pirate; their blades drawn. "Ha! Fools. You really are an idiot." She would snort in the direction of the fair haired son of the trees, and smirk. "You think I would let it go that easy? Do you think me a fool? You give me what I want, I give you what you want..never. You will not go anywhere until you prove to me it works. Jean said she could start it." Tips of swords would press at Ghislain's back, and force him forward, "Let us see the proof." (d

Adelaide the Key: "No.  Jean!  No, don't leave me."  She tried to make it as awkward as possible when he put her in Ghislain's waiting arms, but there was no strength in anything she did.  Even her protests.  She was tired, and Ghislain's arms felt almost as good as Jean's.  He smelled wrong, though.  He smelled wrong, and even the night air was too bright, making her blink, the cold sea air turning her cheeks red, but doing little to cool her off.  Jean had said she was improving, but she felt awful.  She felt even worse watching him walk away, becoming a different man entirely before her very red eyes, the sound of his shouts carried across the plank by the wind.  Ada waited, watching, almost certain Ghislain expected her to say something to him.  Perhaps to soothe his injured pride, or assure him that Jean knew what he was doing.  She couldn't; she wasn't sure he knew what he was doing, and she was so tired. 

Ghislain the Fruit: "What a fantastic object," Ghislain muttered, turning slightly to see it better, and in the process, keeping Ada from seeing what he saw so clearly on the deck.  It was at about that moment he felt something sharp poke at his back, not quite piercing through the thick layer of his overcoat, but it was unpleasant enough to grab his attention.  He walked closer, and set her down before the object, holding her upright by her arms.  Even if her feet could not support her weight, he would hold her steady, his hands firm enough to leave temporary marks, but they also held her bedsheets around her, and kept her safe from the cold autumn air.  Now she could see it, and he felt her struggle to get away.  He leaned close to her ear.  "There is a sword to my back, my dear."

Adelaide the Key: "I am giving about most things, Ghislain," she breathed, "but in this instance, I must say better yours than mine."  She shut her eyes.  The thing was blurring before her, and she could feel herself begin to drift away.  It was not the fever this time, but something else, a flaw in her design that would have made her laugh, were she not so weak.  She blinked her eyes open, and shook her head.  "I can't." *

Ana the Wench: "What do you mean you can't!?" Ana hissed parting the sea of people to stand just at her side, "Start it or I'll kill him." She pointed to the pirate who had been surrounded. However, was very surprised at the laughter coming from Peregrine's direction.

Peregrine the Pirate: "You have to make a better threat then that, Ada hates me." He smiled holding his knees, and coming to meet the eyes of the healer. In a quiet voice he would coach her on, with a smile, "Come on, Ada..try again." Behind him the scientist would use the time her back was turned to send silent orders down to the lower decks to raise each door so that the canon's could be present. At this attempt it failed again, and the pirate would take a deep breath. "She needs stimulation.." He spoke out, and Ana uncoiled her whip, "Positive stimulation. I'd be happy to volunteer." He grinned, at the healer, knowing full well he would be the last one on her list. Though they have shared a bed once before. (d

Adelaide the Key: "Ghislain, let me go," she breathed.  It felt like he was only tightening his grip, and she could smell fear from him.  He was never afraid!  He never felt anything!  He was always so coolly aloof, unless he was in an argument about something largely inconsequential -- politics, or war strategy.  Usually, something Ada did not care to participate in, unless she was dragged kicking and screaming by one of the two men.  Oh, why did that memory feel so close?  She could reach out and touch Valois, and it nearly broke her heart to see him as he was, so young and so close to his throne.  He ruled nothing; Jeanne was the better monarch between them.  She felt Ghislain's fingers bite into her flesh and stomped her foot impatiently.  "You're hurting me," she said flatly, but the dreamy quality of her voice had vanished.  Whatever he was doing, it worked.  And unfortunately for Jean or Peregrine, it was clear he knew his way around Ada far better than they ever would.  "No, I mean.  I cannot.  I will die.  Something terrible will happen.  This is not how it is supposed to work, and I cannot make sense of what is so confusing....  It is wrong."  She fell against Ghislain, her knees turning to jelly, and her heart pounding dangerously hard in her aching chest.  The wound flared white-hot and she hissed air through her teeth to keep from vomiting all over Ghislain's shiny boots.  "Don't kill him, please.  Maybe if I was better.  Maybe if we had more time.  Maybe if you hadn't...." Ada's dark eyes fell on the whip.  She shut her mouth.  Sea and sky, she lacked all sense sometimes.  Resting against Ghislain, she tried again, even if something crucial to the equation was lacking. *

Peregrine the Pirate: The Soliel, burned bright and vivid inside it's cradle, the raw emotion spilling out on deck caused the long arms of the orrery to process, and the spinning orbs to fire. When Ada cried out it too made sounds, coming to life slowly, and the light that it gave was breathtaking. A pure rich golden glow under the amber glass, the light spilled out over the deck, and Ana could only stare. Caught of guard, Peregrine quickly moved to pull the beauty up from the deck as within that moment Jean gave order that the cannon's cut through the brig. One after the other they splintered the ship sailing through the hauls below the pirate's feet. "Hold tight." He clung Ada to him, leaving behind the other, as the blinding light soon reached the heavens.

Ana the Wench: He would not dare! The sounds of the draw came quickly to her ears, but her attention was not so easily pulled. He could damage it! Peregrine would not go behind her..for such a creature? Rushing around she turned to watch them fading, caring very little that the precious machine could be lost at sea. Faster and faster the arms would turn, a dance suspended below the rigs, but when the sails would be lowered for means of escape the arms would slice right through. "Noooo!" She cried out, watching her beautiful ship be freed from the Lee, and the splinters fall around them.

Jean-Claude the Man of Science: "Go!" Jean called out, barking his order at Pere as he watched the pirate set his lover down, but long before Ada could touch the deck he would be there to take her in. What of Ghislain? Dark eyes swept back to the ship where, the man had once stood. However, the sound of firing iron cast it's heavy blow falling too long and passing the ship--her return fire was coming fast.

Peregrine the Pirate: "Take her down!" He barked the line of command going swiftly to the next until it reached the bottom deck, where cannon's were being reloaded. (d

Adelaide the Key: When the machine started, Ada crumpled to the ground.  Ghislain was somewhere else, and the ship felt unsteady beneath her hands and knees.  "Ghislain?"  She felt another pair of arms around her, felt herself rushing, felt air around her, under her, the sound of boots on wood changing swiftly, and then back to another ship.  "Peregrine.  Jean."  The waves rocked the ship, and her boneless body went wherever it was directed.  Perhaps she was healthy enough to feel annoyed, but her expression was one of fear, rather than relief, as the final and most important set of arms came around her.  Her stomach clenched.  The door was still open, and she knew things she should not.  She knew Ghislain was not going to come across the plank, and that even as the ropes were thrown, there was no chance of his surviving.  Somewhere, she felt the whirling arms of the machine, sails shredding, and splintering wood sounding like her soul was coming apart.  "I can't....  Jean."  What she was unable to say would quickly become apparent; when Ada slipped into that welcome sleep, hell was unleashed through the doorway Ada had shoved open, until it suddenly silenced, darkening so abruptly, spots in the shape of demons danced before the eyes of any who had made the mistake of looking at the machine, whose arms were still spinning wildly.

Ghislain the Fruit: Ada was right about Ghislain, but he was not dead yet.  When she fell to the ground, he was already in the air, launched at Ana.  He would take her overboard, if such a thing was possible, but even the satisfaction of making her smack against the splintering decks of what remained of her ship would be enough.  He had wished to accomplish so many things in Skye, but he knew his priorities had been off.  He should have gone to Rosalind first.  Should have made sure she knew what he meant in the letter he gave her as they left France. He didn't trust that filthy blond pirate, but his niece did.  Beyond all reason or expectation.  He hoped the best for them, and with a look toward Peregrine's ship, made sure Jean saw his smile before there was nothing more to see of Ghislain d'Armagnac. *

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

Momma: Once again the stone streets filled with life, as another day had come to end and the evening raged on. The autumn air was crisp, but the feeling of dread washed well over the lands. Something was brewing out on the sea, a battle was in the air, and it seemed all of Skye was lost to it. Not a single soul knew the battleships were preparing for war, that the pirate bound had all moved out into the sea. "I've just come to bring the Lady a warm blanket..A cloak and a few other comforts for the colder weather." The old hag smiled towards the guard who let her pass..for who could cause such harm? Her sack was full of warm fabrics, a package even from Jean-Claude, and a letter from her lover.With instructions for honey, better pillows, and her feet to be rubbed until he returned. The guard would come then into Rosalind's apartment, and he would clear his throat.."Milady...A Madame Fortuna? Shall I send her in?"

Rosalind: "Momma," Rosalind said with a breath of relief, shooing him back outside and looking for the old woman. Rosalind had liked her almost as long as she had liked Peregrine; funny, how the two had come into her life at almost the same time, and each with such a profound effect. She helped the old woman in, though gingerly, as if afraid she might step on the woman's frail feet. Until Momma, Rosalind had never met anyone over the age of sixty. With the old woman settled, Rosalind went to pour herself a cup of herbal tea, the hot water splashing into the delicate cup, and reflecting for a moment a darker reflection of Rosalind. Her dark hair had been combed and braided for court, and minimal cosmetics were to make a tired face look presentable. Pregnancy made her weary beyond all measure, but fortunately, events in Skye were minor these days. Sewing circles and clan diplomats, poetry readings and French singing lessons. Her boys were too restless for grammar lessons and the girls could not be less interested in court dance instruction, and Rosalind did not feel like pursuing them.

Momma: Momma smelled of rich deep earth, the soil that ran through her fingers were what stained them a rich deep brown. Her hair had once been as black as night, but now was completely white peppered with a darker gray. "I can't stand to be in the forest tonight. Nor can I survive the street..they have become wild." With being civilized, and this coming from a Gypsy. She took little steps, tiny slow steps that would need the aid of a cane, but once the sack was dropped on the floor she could take a seat. "Those are from Jean-Claude, he sent his love..but this was last week. As you can understand we have been busy." Her hands settled over her walking stick, the end a twisted root holding a clear orb. "I will not keep ye' long, but I am not returning to that forest til he does." She was rattled, and that was clear.."Mind ye' some company?"

Rosalind: "I would like some company. I have been feeling a little lonely." Adult company was always welcome. With Colban and Perry gone, she had very little of it these days. She settled into a chair and went through the package, smiling. "He is very thoughtful. He has always been so thoughtful." She reached and picked up her cup of tea, then thought a moment. "I am sorry. I should have offered you some. What can I get you to drink? To eat?" Rosalind wasn't sure what the woman did for sustenance. She had to be taken care of, to a certain extent, no? Peregrine would not let the old woman starve. "And what about Peregrine? Where is he? Is he safe?" Was he well? Was he warm at night, and was he on his way home already? She had so many questions, each more selfish than the last, but she kept them quiet, merely folding her hands around the hot tea cup.

Momma: "What ye' are havin' smells good." Her blind eyes could tell it was tea, and that sounded mighty fine. "Where is that boy of yours? Have him fetch it. She would start whistling like one would call a dog, and though Sax came flying, no Aldric. "Train these boys right..woman power." She would scratch behind the dog's ears who was happy to have the affection. "Was gonna make me a rug out of this one." She spoke to the dog, about the dog. "Reminded me of my last husband." Her silver eyes cast from the dog to Rosie's quickly hitting her with a forward gaze as she asked questions. "Captain is taking the sea. Got a pretty pair of eyes only for ye' are you aware of this?" She narrowed her own upon Ros's, and touched the end of her cane once again, "Do ye' remember how ye' met him, Rosalind? Where were you?" Something had troubled the old hag, something that remained on the tip of her tongue waiting--to lash.

Rosalind: Rosalind poured another cup of tea and handed it to the woman, ensuring the old pair of hands held the cup before she let go. She didn't want any spills of scalding water. "I think Aldric is with his nanny. I have been so tired lately, I cannot chase after him in the garden as long as he would require." She smiled. As Sax came padding into the room, and Momma mentioned making a rug out of him, Rosalind's smile faded ever so slightly. "Sax is a good boy. To say he reminded me of any of my previous husbands would be an insult. To Sax, I mean." She sipped at her tea and set the cup down again, refreshing its contents. She rested her gaze on Momma, and listened to what the woman had to say, though the query about Peregrine was a little strange. "I met him once in a tavern. He wished me to dance. Which is an odd thing to say to a woman with a lame leg." Had the night with the bottle of wine been the same evening? She could not tell them apart, and frankly, it was a time of her life that was too painful to look back on. Even for Peregrine's sake.

Momma: "Mmm, made ye' feel good did he? Took the pain away. Even on your gimp leg..is easy to do a dance when yer' legs are around his hips." She sat back in the chair, her hands squeezed the tip of her cane. "Did you forgive him so easy? When he offered your body to his crew as their bounty? Said they could take ye' how they wished, but in the end he had to have something left to hang in his trees." The question of Aldric had been a test to see where the boy was, as she would never bring this up before him..or where he could hear. "I mean you no harm..I just need the truth. You have little knowledge of who he is, or where he is from. Yet, you are having a child, aye? I do not question yer' judgment on men..just yer tactics. Did you put him under a spell?"

Rosalind: Rosalind stood up. So did Sax, with a wary look at the old woman. "We didn't dance that first night. If I recall, I told him to leave me be, and then proceeded to get thoroughly drunk, as I had just learned my then-husband was coming to Skye. I do not make a habit of justifying myself to anyone, Momma Fortuna, and if you came to see if I am the whore the gossips make me out to be, you should have saved yourself the time. Listen to them. To contradict their stories is to argue with madmen and fools, and I have no the time to waste on either." Despite the words she spoke, her tone was nearly pleasant. She canted her head, and her tone changed, darkening nearly imperceptibly, but if she could hear the change, she knew Momma would. "You mean me no harm, oui, but you wish to know what my intentions are with your boy. You could always ask, without the accusations, and my answer will be, until I discuss it with Peregrine, that I do not know. I know nothing, for as you have pointed out, the men in my life have not necessarily been the best." She did not choose a single one of them, with the exception of Colban. And there was nothing amiss with Colban; he would make any other woman a fine husband. She did not love him, and it was cruel to pretend she did. She did not pretend anything with Peregrine, not since that walk in the narrow corridor, when he helped her find her sewing things.

Momma: "I mean ye' no harm, but I do not trust any..very few. As the reason I have been married many times. All of them countless fools who dabble on whores." She sat forward the sounds her body made was proof of her age, "He don' speak of her, that much I know. He says she died, but she is alive..dead to him. Crushed him, all the world I had built up and she destroyed it. He killed hundreds, children, women. What he was doin' on this Isle, was just the same. My boy, was not raised like that. He fixed wagons, tended the horses, built churches for the Christians. The ship came to him, we never had it commissioned. I told him, what he did with it was his own, but I could see it in his eyes.." Taking a drink of her tea she cursed at how hot it was, but was thankful for the bite. She sat in silence for a moment, contemplating on her next words..she was good with spells, not phrases. "I just want you to know how you got him on a rope. Like a goat falling from the cliff, you roped him back up. Are you aware of this? What I am tryin' to tell you?" She leaned forward once again coming just a bit closer to Ros's face, the pretty little face that she could tell, got her boy hooked. "Just promise me you will take care of that heart..at least until your child is born."

Rosalind: Rosalind had heard this before. It was as much a part of Peregrine as her string of husbands was a part of her. It was his past, but not his future. She made sure he would never feel that way again. He would never lose himself. He would always have his direction, and his path home. His promise was to keep her safe, to love her, to make her laugh again. Whatever their reasons were, the answer was the same. She loved him. "A ring is not proof of love. Nor are a few words. It is proof, of staying by his side even when he expects me to leave, of carrying his child, though I doubt very much the sanity of it all. It is the knowledge that he saved my life in more ways than I can express, in all the ways that a life can be saved, and I would trust myself with none other than him. I understand what you are asking." Rosalind smiled, thinly. She hated explaining herself. She disliked making promises. But Momma was dear to Peregrine, and she deserved some satisfaction that her boy was going to be safe in her hands. "I can't not love him, Momma. I have tried. It would have been easier if I had been able to tell him to stay away. But I cannot, and will not. No matter what happens, this will always be the truth. I will love him well past the day our child is born."

Momma: "I don't expect you to stop lovin' him, but what I expect of you is that you do everything...Everything..to keep that child safe. No heroics, even if you wish it. No matter how worried you get, or how the cannons start." In the distance the sounds of cannon fire started, and the night flashed with the powder. Instantly the castle went up in alarm, a fast roar of drums to call the men in. Momma rose quickly to face the window and watch as the horizon flashed with light. She held her chest, taking a deep breath, "I'm too old for this.." She whispered, turning back to Rosalind who she suddenly realized how pale she was. "Pull that rope, child would ye?"

Rosalind: Rosalind went to the window with Momma, fear suddenly filling her chest. Her heart felt too small for the task before it, and looking at Momma, she realized the older woman felt it, too. Worse, perhaps. She knew Peregrine far longer, and knew what was at stake. Rosalind knew how ignorant she was. She preferred it this way. Knowing meant having to hide it, and she could not hide anything more in her life. She had enough to look after. She pulled the rope back for Momma. "That is him, isn't it. Out there, that is my Peregrine." She felt like a fisherman's wife. Worse. She felt like every stereotype of the woman left behind to worry and wait, and she hated it. She had hated it all her life, but this is what women did, when they had men to go out and fight for them. Having to do the fighting yourself was brutal, hard work. Rosalind knew. She also knew the consequences of fighting that battle. "No, I will not be a hero. Time for that has passed." She would not think of lost children, nor mistakes made, even if they had been made for a good cause. She was not going to lose this child. She'd dreamed of her already. It was her job to see that dream came true.