Omen-Birds

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Among the Greeks it was a bird of omens. It was written that a thief attacked a Greecian poet by the name if Ibycus and left him for dead. He called upon a flock of cranes, who followed his attacker to a theater. They hovered over him, until so beset with grief, he confessed his crimes.- The Greeks, and their thoughts on Cranes

So then is the Grandmaster, and in a way all Masters, Apprentices, Journeymen, and Servants akin to these birds who in the action of violence or in their public, even private presences serve as an omen to one thing or another.


Her wings were folded and her neck bowed down. Her wings were her arms, folded gentle across the middle of her broken, battered body. The bowed neck was turned to the right, exposing the length of the left side while an oval face mirrored repose. Scratches lined the once pristine column of flesh. Little lines etched were hard to denote if the hands were her own or the work of others, but all the same it was one more place where flesh served for feathers ripped away. A passerby to the silent lake watched as the bird, in life, looked as if it were dead. She was so strange, Claramae. The riot her body endured came to its apex on the sea crossing, when crossing every wave proved too much for iron to endure, so it bent. In order to come home the vibrant nature glimmering like a shard of hope through what was broken had to be silenced. It was too filled with pain, too forced, too sad.

England had done this.

The passerby was a servant who had not gone to England with the bird, her mistress. She had not been there to preen the feathers nor stroke the crown to shine. Now, she wept as all that was lovely about her mistress still looked decimated. Bromheilde walked over toward Claramae, passing a few fingers through her brown hair. With the candle held aloft, she noticed the gloss that these feathers could still have. She promised omen-bird she would brush them in the morning. "Claramae," she whispered, and thinking better of it, called her by a thing that was a tether to the soul ,"Aisling." The name made the sleeping one show a flicker of life as it descended down on the side of the pillow, to her ear. "Bromheilde, do not worry so. It is highly unlike you beyond times of duress." The older woman, the servant, scolded herself. It'd been said that the medicines she took in like the crane takes in the food of the lake-water were sometimes undone by her own oddity. She sat on the edge of her bed, pushing aside strands of hair still,"It is time of duress Aisling, I can not stand to see you this way. No one can. Voltaire has not forgiven himself, he says nothing."

Her eyes opened, the one thing on her body that did not hurt. Her eyes were still quick, able to ascertain by candle what Bromheilde felt by the language of her body. Her fingers began to creep over her body until Bromheilde stopped her. Still going on, she took the hand of she who had stood by her side for nearly fifteen years. "It is not his fault, nor is it yours. I did not want this to happen to you, Bromheilde, and it would have. It is done now. Behind the throne we will be..nor more I to move my hand in strokes in daylight broad. I..had learned much before this. I learn more after. Nothing will befall me now," she whispered, the woman leaning in to her until both of them were brow to brow. "not in the hands of my brother."

Bromheilde's tears fell on Claramae's face. She looked up, seeing a woman fabled to be as hard as her mistress soften like the underside of a great dragon with an exposed belly to lend. The years had done this to her. None entered these halls nor left without knowing the Lord and Lady Voltaire to be as a patriarch and matriarch. The eldest matriarch held the younger gingerly in her arms, knowing she would serve the younger until nothing was left in her. "I have no daughters, you have been like this to me. When de Aquitaine brought you in, the world moved no more to me. You barely survived three years before, now this. No service is worth this, is it?" She asked, to which the crane in all wisdom replied, "Yes."

She turned her face up to the woman who had treated her as a daughter these years, a mother where she had lost one far too soon. "If I had died, or were to die, it would be in the knowledge that I have lived in perfect love and perfect service's supreme testament. We are nothing without a cause, for in our causes we remember that we are human. It is so easy a lesson to forget. I often cast it aside. I am broken. I am human. I am blessed to remember that. So long to live as a thing, Bromheilde. We are not things. My master did his best to impart this. When Sorschal returned to me, I began to live. In his wake, Jean-Claude and the others kept it so. My brothers and sisters. My love, Michael. Had I died, I would have died a woman..of perfect love, and perfect service. Now I ail as one. I can not sleep, Bromheilde. Stay with me."



Without qualm she remained, edging the head of the bird in to her lap. What would she see, if she cut inside the mind? The mother fathomed her child's dilemma. She would tell Jean-Claude of how strong she laced her teas, or what to increase in medicinal wine. She would tell him of the years where she slept for three days only to arise with no sleep for a fortnight. Some thought she was a posessed of a dark angel of God or she had sold her soul in devil pact. It was a first, for she was a furious thing. Now, God could mend omen-birds wings.

"Will you sleep anymore tonight?"
"Perhaps. I want to remember with you, before I do.."

Long into the night, they spoke in the language of German. Bromheilde for years was said to speak only this, but those in this land learned the truth as she plainly commanded the household in stern strokes of English. Still, they spoke in a language as close to the heart of her daughter as Italian. As personal as the Irish-Gaul. They spoke of the many wars Bavaria had known, how is rulership passed hands. They spoke of other states that were both wild and elegant. One day they would all return to the land of the Germans where near Cologne she kept an estate that was supposed to be where she retired. How they laughed at this, one more so than other. It hurt omen-bird to laugh. It hurt to breathe, but she did it anyway. Bromheilde was never disturbed by the lack of rising chest.

In German, too, Bromheilde was so beset by all that pained her soul she revealed it, the wings of her omen-bird touching what they could.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Bromheilde let her head lull back against the headboard of the four poster bed. The high pillars were strung with both a sheer set and thick set of curtains. She had time to study the colors as her mistress-daughter spoke of what she'd left behind in Cologne.

"I still, to this day Bromheilde, Miss Cologne. The Germanic places of the Holy Empire were special. Along the Rhine, there was so much trade, so many pilgrims seeking the remains of the Three Magi. Remember that is how we too, came, before we set upon our work? As pilgrims in prayer, mending ourselves before the Lord as he set us out again. Of all the princes we may have worked for, of all that could have been ascertained, nothing was sweeter of the German reward than the home we'd won. I should like to visit it again soon."

Claramae, after but three quarters of an hour began to grow relaxed, almost enough to rest again. She fell in to a position that hurt her, causing her to cry out in alarm after she'd settled only to curse under her breath in words serving as substitutes for the real thing. "My ribs," she told Brom, find the woman would gently shift enough to pull the chord above the lady's bed. One of six, the particular one would summon up one of the maids entrusted to Claramae's person. It was an honored place to serve any master. "fetch the Madame the scented salt," this one, of a camphor like ordor seemed to dumb the senses enough to diminish the edge of the pain. "Yes, that. Put it upon a little tray, yah, with a flame underneath, let it melt. Fill the room. Thank you." She looked down to see a look of annoyance, "Do not look like that.."

"I can not help it, Lady Bromheilde, I am..useless."

It had taken a great deal of work merely to be able to pull herself from one end of the bed to the other. Beyond her bruised, nearly broken ribs were battered legs. "For a time I was afraid I had lost my ability to walk, Brom. Or even sit."

*a moment between Claramae and Bromheilde, together a fabled fifteen of the master's over twenty years of service

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Exposure[/color] -we show the underside of our wings[/i][/size]


Duchess Claramae Vincere St. Laurence

Turas Lan sunsets fell on a city of countless color. Tonight, as the sun slowly slipped down the chain into the western end of the jewel drawer it set the remainder of the baubles on fire. Rooftops became glistening precious stone,distant water held diamond shimmer and all the banners were ribbons for a kept lady's choosing. The image of the scalding Skye jewel was recorded in poet's praise on paper atop a lap desk settled against the upright torso of thewoman who kept as many titles as one kept such ornaments for wear. 'O' God, the sun excudes fire-light glow on a world shining as jewels. To have worn even one is to wear a piece of the mind's finest work, thus adorning oneself in worthy praise..." Her hands, the hands of a murderess, dipped quill to ink in order to transfer thought in perfect, scrolling script. It was a reward, to sit in the center of the windows five that flooded the room with enough light that if she desired, she could imprison the day. Against the window's long seat was rested an impliment that would companion her well in to the next year, if not beyond on occasion. With the walking stick of wood tipped in silver she moved from bed to window seat. It was a fool's errand accomplished with glorious exception to the rule; Claramae was the exception to every rule. One might say she wrote all exception! Her legs were rested atop pillows under loose folds of fabric, as this had been the first day of return in which she was attired in more than sleeping clothes. Buttery skirts of camel lines hugged dark emerald to form the same of bodice. Laces were loose, the sleeves form fitting. She indulged in the leisure activity of poetry, sat in fashion. The woman within the machine was revealed so in this. (d)

Master Jean-Claude de Aquitaine

The Hall had called out to him like laughter from a child, and the voices carried softly to his tower. Where her world captured the sunlight, Jean-Claude felt himself submerged in it like the ocean. All around him the world could be seen through wondering eyes that thought of all life as he no matter where he turned a vision of Turas Lan could be painted in glorious light. All was as he left, and with the pull of the thin cloth from the orrery would be the welcome home he so desired. The spinning stars, with moons and planets all a line foretold futures with a wondrous reprise of the day before. He watched as it came to life, slowly starting at first with sounds that seemed like moans as his once old joints had with a rise. Mouse had become so wide eyed as she helped him, standing beneath the machine she felt so close to the heavens, and reached to touch one of the smooth polished stones that spun on its axis. "It is beautiful no?" He came to stand behind her, and she could only gasp. "There are many secrets, Mon Cher, This being the biggest kept. The sun." He pointed to the large golden orb that burned with amber tinted glass, "Is worth more then any gold. Many men have died in attempt to steal the light," His long cool fingers brushed her hair lightly, "And a few women. Keep it safe." She would nod, giving her vow as she went on to dust it. "Come. The day is done. Let us see to the evening." He would extend his hand, and escort her. Yet, at the door of St. Laurence he would leave the young lady and trade her for the bottled wine. Two glasses of fine work, stemmed thin between his fingers as the neck was held lightly as he made his way into her room. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful an just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Jean-Claude quoted the book of John, with a smirk disheveled, and the eyes of a soulless night. (d

Duchess Claramae Vincere St. Laurence

Lady Voltaire lingered over Claramae's shoulder as she brushed the wealth of hair for the third time that day, intent to infuse it with the light pouring wanton through the windows. "You have always been beautiful," she remarked, passing the bristles gentle each time over the brown strands. She as admonished, albiet gently with, "No, my lady. That, is beauty. True beauty. God's celestial dance illuminating a pinacle of what can be achieved from the time of ancients unto now. Yes. There is an ancient, hollowed quality in a land infused with Roman-Norse architecture, where in man comes with each age to build upon it, live on it. That is the beauty, that we shall have some part of us go on. I intend to add to that work, not detract." The Bavrian nodded, and Claramae let her lips curve to smile in secret none but the Lord knew for the time being. She leaned back against the wall, having given her torso enough muscular training for that hour, where in she would sit ramrod straight for intervals of five to ten minutes. This last pass she had made it some fifteen in a noble's erect posture. What would else could men or women kill for? Give limbs, blood, if not die? All of their worldly wealth to understand one iota of what the like of them knew. At the door a person was admitted by way of the hall-page, for the noble held not their own doors here. Here, they were the stuff of heroes and heroines. Rich fable spun that wide eyed noviates gazed upon, that those who were apprentices hoped to be. The ship baring the English company had received no fanfare on arrival, no grand welcome byhis Majesty. It was not what they wanted. They wanted to go on - construct memories of more value than balls of iron breaking body boundaries for blood. More than swords, more than sickness. As Jean-Claude entered, Bromheilde had just pulled the Madame's hair with two small pieces back to bring the hair from her face, binding it in a creative twine. "Gueten nacht, Herr de Aquitaine. " She rose to leave them, a gentle touch to Madame's shoulders before she curtsied to de Aquitaine. Ebony Hall stood to welcome them home because she was was the organs that pushed the blood of the heart, the will of the mind, which sat in the windowseat by the collection of five bay styled windows. "Will he settle for verse? I have had confession just this morning. Bonsoir, de Aquitaine. What do you bring with you?" (d)


Master Jean-Claude de Aquitaine

"Gueten nacht, Mon Cher." His German was comical, and poorly done for he could simply not master them all. His accent was pure, as was his blood line, and the French that ran his veins was enough to turn the tide of his decision to marry Adelaide. "I have the fruits of our labor. The very spirit of my youth." He stepped to her side then, a kiss to her forehead with a brush of her cheek before he poured her a glass, and spoke of his homelands. "All the finest came from Bordeaux, the fields would sit in the sun all day until the grapes turned on the vine. It was much like home, and I was to marry the heiress there. We lost ourselves to each other." He would take a lean then with glass in hand, "Blood that runs my veins is made of this wine, and when the winter took her, I became wild.I was hardly even a man." Half pride, half confession, "Old enough to marry, but far too busy to complete the act." Pressing from the window he turned the glass back, to only fill it again--something was amiss with Aquitaine. "I could confess my heart right now to the Father, and be killed for all I have sinned." His black hair fell over his face as he turned a look back to her, undone tonight and a bit wild from day, he almost looked primeval. "I'll be married when our petites come back, thinking of another who is spoken for, cutting away bodies in an attempt to rid the world of decease..or so I tell myself, and letting my young apprentice move blindly through the world. Claramae..I'm going to hell, I shall burn in fires for the rest of my life." Yes he was a bit intoxicated, but as he came to sit beside her, he would almost take up the entire space with a lean. "But what a fun ride.." Lounging there with her, he would look over her poetry.(d)

Lady Voltaire

"Herr de Aquitaine, your German. Terrible." Lady Voltaire never surrendered to speaking the language of the preferred borgeouis. Why, oh why, did the Scotts of Skye embrace such a cultural love of the Norman French? Within the hallowed halls of her Madame's construction, it too was one language that rattled her ears daily (as noviates who had poor training in language daily butchered it to the chagrin of their teachers.) At least among the election of three languages it was expected of a noviate to be fluent in before advancing, one of them was German (the others being Italian and French). Ancient languages were an educational product expected of the novices who emerged from noble households. (Latin, Greek). She shook her head "He would never take German with me, Madame. no." Her English was as thick as the hair forming braids wound up as a coronet on her head. "In order to attend the Madame, the young men and the women are expected to be fluent in German. Ah well. You are older, I forgive you."" Bromheilde was an anomoly of age fabled to be on the edge of her fiftieth decade.


Duchess Claramae Vincere St. Laurence

Much to a jest as it was a chagrin, Claramae replied to Jean-Claude in French for the sheer benefit of watching the poor woman hold her tongue."You spoil me, brother, and you emerge slightly inept in all that is held together? Why, de Aquitaine, it is a wonder Bromheilde has not tossed you on your ear for appearing before me inebriated. I do hope you intend to share. The drink that made you less pure, more impassioned. If you were to go to Hell, Lucifer would expell you. He needs not his posistion challenged nor could keep you occupied, you better serve and humor God." She went to fetch a pair of the best goblets for the pair of them, after leaving, Claramae actuallygrinned wider. " You know she has a bias against the French, some forever make fun of her Bavaria with no mercy. Poor women, she was born in that state as per God's will,naught to be done of it.she will start to test you as she does both the staff and the noviates if you do not progress." (d)


Master Jean-Claude de Aquitaine

The German made his skin crawl, his nose wrinkle and a dark brow to raise. "She should be bias. We are France. We left the dark ages a hundred years ago. Though, I know better then to press her, but if she wishes to test me. Ha. I do not worry," He would raise his pinky finger a test of strength of the will, for he felt he had her beat. Though he would laugh then, in the jest--though in truth even Bromheilde's name would he change. Of course he would not mock her to her face, or even out spoken..but it was Germany. He could not help it. "I am not appearing before you inebriated. I came through the door. It is only your Sorchel that could appear, Ma Diamant," He laughed again, lightly leaning his head against the wall, looking again to her poetry. "Write a me a sonnet. Of Aquitaine, of the rich land there and the life I left behind that fell back into my hands in England, and how I'm going to hell." He would motion to the pen, "Go. Start now. Talk of my beauty first." Jean-Claude would stand then, to only look down to her with an overly done wrist coming to the curve of his side as he narrowed his eyes down upon her, "Did I say you could get out of the bed?" (d



in a great deal of the healing arts practiced here. She came down from Jean-Claude's lab, having reached an impasse, the faintly sweet aroma of diluted ether wafting from her clothes. She had not yet decided upon a name for the miracle substance, but in a house of linguistics such as this, she had merely to ask.She was far more amused by Jean-Claude, whose actions were feline in grace, but decidedly less reserved with wine. Since Ada did not drink, he rarely went to excess when they were at home together, though she more than once thought he should. She greeted Claramae with a very Gallic air-kiss to either cheek as she seated herself at the Master's bedside. "Bromheilde, is this the topic of conversation? She has given up on me entirely. She does not even ask how my Bavarian progresses, I cannot even tell her good evening. I feel as if I am choking, I will die, that terrible sound, like coughing." *


Duchess Claramae Vincere St. Laurence

"When was the last time you set foot on German soil, Jean-Claude? Cologne would inspire you. In an age where everyone seeks prestige, I was never dissapointed therein." Bromheilde was no admirer of the place along the River Rhine, either. It was by far the thickest, most gutteral language on Europe among the Romantic classification. It competed with every branch of Gaelic heard round the Isles! The two languages danced in a ring ready to slap the other in a battering-ram battle of spittle. She picked up her pen again to compose the work at hand, "Oh Master de Aquitaine, thy Bavarian is horrid. Sup not at the table of the Holy Roman Emperor, nor seek you a German consort. ToBromheilde, thou art a righteous ass." Adelaide picked pristine the moment she came through the sunlit room, adding to the radiance. "He does it to Bromheilde on purpose, my ear. I believe he is jealous of our Barone di Favino, whom even as he travels still, even as he is Italian, is like the woman's most beloved son. He wishes the Barone's pet place." As if it were a bout of school boys vying for the school marm's love. She allowed the air kisses with return, patting a place far better than her beside as she retreated there ,but the glorious windows numbering five in high, wide bay style that gave them now few of the increasing dusk. "No, Jean, you gave me no permission to be out of bed, and had you I would have moved anyhow. Come now. I allow you, of all, to be as my personal physician for the benefit of your science to understand such phenomenon. If it were not Adelaide, you would put me upon your table as I slept, I am sure. Or chain me." Brom returned with the requisite goblets, Claramae watched to see if jean could pour. "I sat erect some fifteen minutes last excersise of posture, and it did take some..time..to come from the bed to here." She refused to be in bed when she saw her sovereigns, she would be bandaged, she might be half pale with want of color but God steal her soul before the King and Queen ever saw her unrobed and without protocol. She even was learning to curtsy in grace with the use of her stick. A new graceful accessory (d)

Master Jean-Claude de Aquitaine

"I have never set foot on German soil, My Darling, and I do not plan to. In all the years upon the sea Peregrine avoided it like the plague and for this I was thankful. I simply do not have the patience."He would wrinkle his nose, before smiling and turning the goblet back once more. "She can have the Baron if she wishes. I am the favorite of her husband. He and I did grow close this winters past." In the tromping through the snow on the trail of blood there had been a passage of friendship earned in their own way. He would chuckle deeply at Claramae, the act alone something as rare as the stone atop his cane. "Is that a request? To be chained, for I can make that happen, and I will if you over do it. You should not even be drinking." He spoke as he topped her glass once more, and would prepare one for Ada..forgotten only for a moment she did not drink, and tucking the other in his free hand to finish himself.His heart had filled goblets a thousand times with ruby red, for a love..Breaking from that thought he would smile,"Adelaide. We will have to save the flowers from the wedding, dry them out for when my apprentice returns. Julian is in love. Here. Read." He would pull the letter out from his breast pocket, the poor paper almost fabric he had read so many times. (d


Mistress Adelaide de Sauveterre

"Master, you do look very well considering, how are you feeling, ah?" They expressed their concern in different ways, but concern it was -- Jean-Claude the mother hen, though few of that ilk had ever offered to chain their patients, and Ada with her smiles and incurable Gallic mannerisms. She, proud woman of les Hautes-Alps, would of course never admit to the proximity of the Germanic border to her hometown. She did not even resemble the Germans. She was sun-warmed and slight of stature, dark-haired with refined features, more Gaul than Rosalind, with her Norman nose. She stood up moments after taking her seat, though, and poured herself a tall goblet of water, somehow summoning a bit of mint leaf from up her sleeve to crush into the water. It was delicious, of course. Ada had remedies to the most common of substances, all grown fresh from her herb garden. Though it was safe to say that even Ada was tired of this year's basil harvest, she and Jean-Claude had been eating very well this season. On her way back to her seat, she stopped off to kiss her beloved on the cheek, taking the letter from Julian and reading it. A smile spread slowly upon her face. She and Julian bickered like siblings, but she did care a great deal about him. Jean-Claude loved him like a son, it was unfair if she didn't open her heart to him. Julian just happened to be an irrepressable bastard. Ahem. "Margot, ah? How does he meet a Frenchwoman in Spain?" She laughed and pressed the letter back into his hand, and the hand upon his heart. "It is good news. Maybe they will all return soon." *


Duchess Claramae Vincere St. Laurence

"Then you are not as cultured as you seem. Nor as Christian, for Cologne holds the remains of the Three Magi. Have you never made a pilgrim's round of Europe? For Shame, Jean." She took the wine in hand with a gentle tap of said cane against his shin with a light rap-rap. Nevermind her pilgrim's devotionals were in companion with her need for strength in whom she killed during such a tour, but God was quite indulgent of his Catholic flock. "I am well, Adelaide, thank you. Much improved. It will still take ample time..ample." The first glass was drunk deep on that. She couldn't allow any but the Hall to see her thus. All of England was privy to the breaking so it stood to reason Scotland would only see the improved perfection. Something inside the changed woman appreciated life, yes, but couldn't surrender reputation. The only other woman as frightening as her was Inveryne. Where was she? Perhaps tomorrow she might sit with her. Adelaide was always delightful, perhaps with Inveryne amounting to the only female 'friends' she truly had. Though granted, it was more familial than that. Her back poised against cushions, the mention of Julian in love made her sit up faster than exptected, only flinching. Another sip of wine seemed to work well with what he'd given her. Maybe he should lace it all with Bordeux wine, Ada's works too. "He is in love? There was much mention of him having a more...mmm...shall we say antiquarian disposition to whom was worthy of love?" Sodomite. If Jean-Claude had but been enough to bend him forward, the boy would have been happy, so a part of her thought. "May I see such a letter? The messages have been so seldom, everything is boggled within the world. God will bring them home soon. In love, well tis a fair thing. The boy is of an age where he would either marry or persue study to laterwed" Jean-Claude wouldn't allow him not to, nor be gay, and Julian was aetheist so he wouldn't join a monestary unless it was for the ample religious sodomites. Hmm. To ponder. "Margot. You are right Adelaide, ah me. But then look. We sent a Scott who seems as English as any Englishman along with a young woman of Anglo-French heritage who is indeed as mixed as for a child of Europe. The one letter I did receive from her, it states they were both brother and sister, french of Avignon." Pause. She chuckled softly, hiding it behind her hand. "They quarrel like it." (d)


Master Jean-Claude de Aquitaine

He closed his eyes when Ada kissed him, smiling he touched her chin, "I was beginning to think you had forgotten me. We shall be married soon." He spoke to the room, with a smile so forced it appeared almost as natural as one of the Lily's painted face, and suddenly he wished for something a bit stronger then wine. He should stop, but as the first glass he held was emptied he would promise the other to be the last. Jean-Claude had been drinking since the afternoon. "He is my boy." He spoke out as he took a seat at the sitting area, letting an foot come to rest on his knee and his head to fall back. "He may have been born a Scot, but by God I got it out of him. Of course he finds a frenchwoman. I would have it no other way. We must keep the bloodline pure somehow." The whites in his eyes were red with the spirit hitting hard then as he sat the glass down.Jean-Claude would laugh lightly, raising his head once more, "There were times even I had to wonder. I paid one of the Lily's to bring him into manhood with respect and dignity..he turned as red as the carpet and ran like a sheep from a wolf." He laughed out then, "Not like us hmm, Adelaide. I was as I said 13. Going to hell in the vineyards." Fingers would start to undo his ascot, "My it is hot in here." Pulling the scarf free he would start on the lace at his neck. (d

Mistress Adelaide de Sauveterre

"I am glad, you gave us a fright," Ada said, once again revealing how easily her features showed her genuine spirit, from compassionate to impish, it was a struggle to hide how she felt. In this house of masters, she'd stopped trying, realizing her talents lie in other regions. As they surpassed her in some areas, she was advanced in others. The goal was to work in harmony. "I wondered the same thing about him, but it is his choice to make, whether to study or not. He is still young, and acts like it sometimes, but who knows about this Margot? Maybe she ... ah. Made a man of him." Even Ada couldn't hide the chuckle at the thought. She took a long drink of her water to keep from speculating more on Julian's ... choices.eyes as she stood up once again and leaned in to investigate the damage. Red eyes, rather potent smell of wine. But she tried to think of one Scot he did like, and found the nationality missing among his close companions. Oh, there were those he tolerated. Some were Scottish by association -- Rosalind, for example. But only the Queen stood out. It was a bit like Germans. They were simply lacking in his social circles. "Thirteen. My, my. You have me beat. Why don't we go up to the tower and hope the fumes have cleared out? There is more wine up there...." *


Duchess Claramae Vincere St. Laurence

"When he returns, the proud father will begin negotiations no doubt, see what her dowry favors so that his son might sit on the right-hand of some French lord as unto God. Amen." One cup down, and two. Now on to three with only a delightful sense of floating through liquid where none was. It added some limber grace to stiffened limbs, yet it did not do what in a sense she secretly hoped it might. Always experimenting, she'd survived copious doses of toxic things for the purpose of seeing symptoms, recording them, medicating, reversing medication, sleeping, waking, and for sterilization. Yet nothing on God's good earth made her intoxicated! She abstained simply because a woman who drank heavily in public was obscene, let alone one of the nobility. Looking in the cup she at least found one substance that initiated the process. Ah well. Close, yet no win. On the subject of Julian's virginity (or lack of) she shook her head "If he did let us pray he embraced a sense of civility as he has no piety and spared Janice the details. That sort of talk would chase her back in to a nunnery." A toast was lifted for the Mon Ange who seemed to be the true work of redemption betweixt all of them. "It will be good to have her home, it is not the same without her. She and this hall, its noviates are all the maternal feeling I possess in this world.Vittergaust bid Sorschal and I as her brother and sister, respectively, yet if I had a child I should pray it be such. As it stands that shall not happen, for which we might all be thankful." Hmm. She wondered what else she might lace the wine with to increase the feeling of detachment. It was enough to be pleasant only, yet..not..potent. Science was meant for this. She did wish to journey to the tower but would say with some mute tones "I can not walk that far. In truth the bed to this place by the window..it is all."Hmm, more wine. A sigh. "Bordeux, we are stocking it amply in the cellars. Pleasant, yet attention it deprives not, and quite pain numbing with what is already given. For once the feeling is minimal, praise Jesu. It would be an over-turned carriage and a shot from a Spanish gun that nearly killed me. God. A spaniard? What did I do to deserve a spaniard." Ponder, ponder. "Now to the topic at hand...matches..I do wonder if after such a time it is suitable Janice may be of the mind for an arrangement? Of course it must be..expertly conducted. She is a lady of some good standing within the King's court though no thanks to that cursed Austrian, and furthermore as the daughter of a Grandmaster..well. It is a personal matter but I would rather see with someone who is fully suited. That austrian was an ignoramus, a mongering ignoramus. Far too uncouth, unsuited for our Janice." (d)


Master Jean-Claude de Aquitaine

"Did you hear that Mon chatte?" He spoke to his beloved, touching her hip as she bent over him for inspection. "My darling is so drunk she almost agreed to join us. Perhaps I did not stitch her closed enough..she has become a bit loose." A dark glint in his eyes as he smiled first to Ada then Claramae, who was beyond exciting when she was as this. She was warm, she spoke, and she laughed. For a moment he was lost in Ada, listening to Claramae though far more entertained with the hem of the healer's skirts. "He is a dead Spaniard, Claramae. Let us not forget that." With his head still pressed against the back of the sofa he was rather enjoying this advantage Ada had over him--above him, until. "AND to THINK I did all I could to protect her virginity, only for to give it up to that fool. Damn Austrians. Damn Germans. Damn Scotts." He would raise his head then narrowing his eyes on the glass still half forgotten."Damn ze English too, and their big noses. Pig like the lot of them." He would wave his hand, at the thought. "I'll find her a suitor if she would hold steadfast. When I return to France, there shall be an outing like none other. Beloved son has returned, my poor parents can retire. I shall find Genevieve, Apollonia, and Janice all husbands. Of good fine breeding, and steady manners! No more knights who ride upon their piece making them unable to bare a backbone or children."Sitting back once more he shook his head, "That knight Marcus..Marvin..whatever, if I were a lesser man I would hunt him down, but I am not. I am a gentleman, so I will sit here and curse his name while I have my wine." Another drink taken. (d

Mistress Adelaide de Sauveterre

"I think she is healing well, but I am not certain she is well enough for that," Ada said with a chuckle, perfecting the neck of his shirt now that it was free of lace, and then taking a seat on his lap, drawing her arm, preoccupied with her goblet of mint water, around Jean-Claude. "Is there anyone else you could damn? I do not mind if you sit here, drink wine, and curse their names. It is better than running off after them. I also think this knight will get what he deserves. I do keep myself entertained wondering what that might be. Cursed, to a life of never gaining command, poxed by some camp follower in some damned Lowland swamp. Good, no?"Ada, now settled in, turned to Clarama. "I wonder about these Spanish. They overreach themselves. They are tiny and fragmented, ah? Even if Aragon gains force, they have much to contend with. Their borders with France have never been certain, they are always having these skirmishes. It drove Philip mad, these little wars he would have to put down every month or so. I cannot imagine they have stopped." She shrugged briefly. There was no way to discover more about that, unless one cared to ask either of the monarchs involved. Ada had no intentions of returning to Paris any time soon. Her last visit had been emotionally taxing. *

Duchess Claramae St. Laurence

"Please do not offend my sensiblity by taking my want of company for anything..you would drive the Pope to drink." Let it not be known beyond these walls the woman actually desired company for she spent the day much upon her back with only her thoughts or Bromheilde. Voltaire himself emerged often, but he had much to oversee without the likes of Di Favino, and without Sorschal he settled in to a place as the secondary command with Claramae being now the first. She had come here to 'work' for her apprentice, wasn't that jolly? More like give Sorschal perpetual fits in trying to figure out what the lack of eye blinking had always meant. If he could but see her now, see what years ago he himself had founded, he would have been happy. "Your..apptitude together is quite above me. I am also wed. If you vow not to tell for I trust you implicity, you both." No, she was not drunk. Only seeking to forge bonds for once. She was shot. It made her wish to be closer to someone, something. "I repented of a love for a member of fairer being, she had wed, and I had gone on to remain with my master." She lingered not long on that while agreeing with Ada "Yes, condemn at a distance. Only not the English on the whole, Jean-Claude. I am an example of the better peerage, as is Atherton. Condemn whom you may otherwise. I have hoped myself that one of the assasins seeking us, those Castillians perhaps, or even one of Church's agents has taken him thus. A Lowland swamp is only purgatory, Adelaide. I quite find him deserving of the seventh circle of hell. Hmm, perhaps I should condemn him to inquisition at the hands of a Dominican. No. I am convinced his egotistical flamboyance endangered her further. He is fortunate I gave no sense of where he was going toward the Germanic states. Now on the spanish quandry, you would think so, Adelaide. They have quite a border dispute as to what end they should expand thus, but there quandry was enough to send them to England wielding the age's weaponry. It was a battle not only of swords, but of fire power, the most vivid in the nations thus far I should say. They were determined to hold England on behalf of the Aragonese Alfonso. The Castilian is a fool, an abseloute fool. Whomeverconvinced him to forefit a marriage to Isabelle and give her thus to Aragon. Since she's arrived the man must feel...empowered.They were very close, my sweet, too close." She hissed over the edge of her cup, "To holding all of England. The North ...God, had they made it beyond Hadrian's Wall. Do you know there is talk that the Castillian has bowed down so far as to appease Aragon he negotiates no more with Portugal, They've burned through Toledo! Ah yes. there is talk of the entire country under one crown, even so far as Portugal. I should not have let her go."She admitted at long last, broken, bruised and unable to do anymore about it than sorrow on it, "When she returns home, when they return home they shall be lauded. She is a courier, an informant yes..but she is not a killer. I've no doubt she could poison with aplumb but her heart needs not the burden. She carries enough to this day. I never told you all what became of the Masterwork, did I?"Now Julian, Julian...I look upon him and see how my master must have felt to see each of what he knew he might pass the full extent of his knowledge to. Should you grant me such an honor, de Aquitaine, truly? My time of such exploits as he now undertakes..I can not. Not only would Michael forbid it but..I..do not believe I may be physically able again, if not for some, some time." She was..so exposed. "Ah listen to me. I must bore you both to such tears." (d)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

A Bird of Faith - the coming of Brother Diarmuid

i.

Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

Before his departure, Brother Diarmuid had knelt at the humble alter before the lazar house's chapel. His prayer had been quiet and simple: "Father.... What I am to ask of you...I do not ask for myself." He took a breath, his hands quietly clasped before him. "Watch over this house, Father, and those that shelter here. They are meek, O Lord, and deserve more your succoring Grace. They are as the Lamb." There was a pause, "Guide Brother Oslo, Lord, into a strong shepherd for them...." A sigh, "For I fear...Canterbury is plagued by wolves. Amen." Brother Diarmuid quietly crossed himself, before rising. Once he had left the lazar house's chapel, he would quietly take up his bed roll and staff. There was a quiet good bye, to those he considered friends....to Brother Oslo....to Bronagh (Irish for 'sorrow') .. and to others. As he parted company with Bronagh, he would offer a smile to her. To Brother Oslo. "I will visit when I can.....as often as a I can." Then he would take to the roads, a faint clattering of bells behind him....for he had taken, as a memento, one of his flock's leper bells. As he began his journey upon the roads, he could not help but look up toward the sky. Yes, Brother Dairmuid thought, truly there were wolves loose in Canterbury...... His ouster as the administrator of the lazar house seemed clear enough. For now, he would content himself with the open road. Remembering his promise, regard a road sign only once. To make certain that he was upon the road to Laurence Hall, for he had a letter to deliver on Evalgine's behalf. Even if the contents were unknown to him (they were for the Lady St. Laurence's eyes only). (D)


Countess Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

She remembered her sorrows abated in the company of the ever-sorrowed. It made no sense, but, what did exactly? She was the Countess of Leinster but born under the title of a Baroness, elevated to Duchess. What were words but words? The faint ting of bells recalled lepers who smiled behind bandages. Stench of decay skin in the lazar house was abated as it could be by burning herbs who's smoke created thick, acrid relief. It stung her lungs for always. Canterbury's one brilliant spot would always be what her husband thought of as a spot of death. Justinian's plague was a breath away if Lepers could reside so close to a city gate. Why not out of the city? Was it that they had a place closer to holy site, closer to pilgrim's paradise? Ever since the escape from England - a sea voyage - a marriage, she hadn't ceased to think on Brother Diarmurd hailing him as one of God's true sons. To kin she hoped to be seen no less a daughter of God as she came to stand on the footsteps of the Laurence House. Oh, she knew what it was really called. The purpose, the prices paid, the prizes won. The Lady of the House was her cousin - kinsmen - and a murderous in Evangeline's mind so powerful even she was afraid to cross her. But there are two sides to every story As a kinsmen, she understood the heart that beat inside this house. She went inside, as Diarmuid advanced towards it (d)



Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

For Brother Diarmuid, it would not be a quick journey. For he had long since taken a vow of poverty, and thus his progress was made not on the back of a mule -- but upon his own two feet. There would be times when he would perform his duties - saying Mass for a merchant caravan that had paused for the day, quietly blessing those in need of it - as he continued on. Beneath the starry skies he made his bed, under the blessed sun he walked. When at last came to Laurence House, he would have a soft smile upon his features. With one hand, he would wrap quietly on the door to the great manor. Awaiting a response. What would the Lady St. Laurence's servants make of him? Over the brown and rough spun habit of a monk, was a mantle of subdued read. The mantle's only ornamentation was a white cross, sewn so it fell over his heart. There would a soft smile, "Is the Lady St. Laurence present? My name is Brother Diarmuid....I bear a letter for her." (D)


Countess Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

Journeys happen so differently. They'd left England, herself and her then lover, first by carriage, and then by ship. It was at a hurried pace differing from the Brother's. With all expedience did they haste to do the bidding. Like stars streaking next to one another as Diarmuid arrived, Evangeline had left Laurence House in order to see to other things.

Lady Voltaire

"Jah, you call for the Lady? Please, come in Brother. I will see if the Madame will take a guest today? If not you will leave letter with page." The brother was delivered unto the interior by the young men who pulled back the door, by a young woman who brought the Brother to the household's chatelaine. Bromheilde's Bavarian voice would hold him in place as she went up through a set of stairs that should not have been to go somewhere he yet couldn't. He stayed in the antechamber of another room for some time until what seemed after a half an hour he was invited to the main room. The door opened, Bromheilde would offer him a way with her hand, curtsy as he passed before the door was shut behind him. In the room he met the woman he came to seek. How could one so small command so much power? The question of the age to which he wanted no answer. (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

There was a soft sigh, when Bromheilde spoke with him. As he followed behind the Bavarian, he gently said, "I was told that I was to deliver it only to Lady St. Laurence herself......" There was a touch of reluctance in his voice, but if the matter came to it? He would not barge in on those that recovered from illness or injury. When he was left in the antechamber, there would be the quiet tck tck tck of his rosary beads. A quiet prayer to the Lord of Everyman. There was a smile, when Bromehile would guide him to where he was to have audience with the Lady St. Laurence. When he at last came face to face with the Lady, Brother Diarmuid would quietly offer a modest half-bow, "Good evening, m'lady..... " When he rose, he said, "I am Brother Diarmuid...I was asked by one of my flock to see a letter safely to your hand." There was a pause, as he retreived Eva's letter. He would wait for permission to advance, before giving it to her. "I do so, now." (D)

Master Vincere St. Laurence

She was in a room sitting in a high backed chair. To the right of her was a man who was missing one elemental thing; a blotted out eye was signified by the patch he wore to conceal the scar, for as he aged it grew more intense. The rest of him was slender, lithe, and spry for a man of his age. On the brother's entry he would give a signal that the other of the guard should leave, taking with them additional servants. "Good evening, Brother Diarmuid. We are honored by the presence of a holy man within the walls of the House. What letter have you for me? You may bring it thus completing your duties." Their paths until today never crossed but in words sharing the same space in English streets. On the day she was shot, did he not notice how flooded Canterbury had become, how full of tears, how much woe? Did he not see candles lit praising her name among several others? Now the woman, the source of the worry sat alive before him. If she was mending, no other sign was given save what the stick poised just aside her chair could suggest. (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

The mendicant friar canted his head quietly. As was often said, like knew like. And despite his more compassionate endeavors, there was little denying that Brother Diarmuid wore the Maltese cross on his mantle. While his the Knights Hospitaller had originally been founded to tend those pilgrims who became injured or ill on their journeys to the Holy Land, there was little doubting that the Order had since become a military one. Something of the one-eyed man was familiar to the good brother. Only the Lady St. Laurence's words seemed to bring his attention to her, the enigma of the one-eyed man put to the back of his mind. "I do not know, m'lady, the letter was given to me sealed." He would pause, turning it to show the seal - Lady O'Casey's seal - unbroken. "I was only told that it was a matter of some importance." Would she tell him of what the letter said? Or mention of her meetings with the Lady St. Laurence? There was a glance to her stick. Obvious it was that the Lady was injured or ill, although it was not an issue he would press. (D)

Master Vincere St. Laurence

Injury did beget the stick's necessity to person; he would not know by her erect, noble baring or the rigid posture but the lady was only able to sit for a certain period of time in this fashion. She could only walk so far without assistance. The house's puzzle allowed her the ease of masking the condition in unique transistions, to amend the time of sitting or standing to be longer away from watching eyes. For now she merely offered a hand to take the letter. "The Lady O'Cathhasaigh has only recently departed on other business, mayhap she will later return. "

The contents of the letter was interesting, it went as follows:

To Her Grace, Duchess of Northampton, Beloved Former Lord-Govenor Duchess of England, GrandMaster of Ebony Hall..

Please accept in to your employ and household the Brother Diarmuid, a Knight Hospitaler. He came to Canterbury by way of Rhoades to be in charge of the Lazar House at the Western Gate, only to find dismisal in the burial of His Eminence, the Arch Bishop. I bid you charge him with tasks of healing as he is excellent, having given much comfort and longevity to lepers, and restored those afflicted with common ailments such as sweating sickness or fevers. He was studied of a Sacrean physican in the holy land, and martialy trained should the need arise. I feel that on seeing him, lady cousin, his sense of discretion and full mercies would bless your house and his talents come to be an integral part. On learning that he would soon have no place to stay and on the knowlede that the Knight Templar have a home in Turas Lan, I thought you may be so kind as to accept this man I call confessor and fellow brother of God. When he has leave to go, let him to Dublin come. Be blessed and go with God. My love to you is always close.

Countess of Leinster
Evangeline O'Cathasaigh.

She looked from the letter then to him, saying, "It would seem that you are without a post as your Knighthood's presence within the capital city, if not within Scotland, is diminished. While in other places the Knight's Templar are eradicated, in these countries they thrive. It reads that you are a healer, well trained, martial should the need arise, and well of religion with no betrayal to your cause. Admirable." (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

"Oh?" There seemed to be a soft touch of regret to his smile, "I am sad to have missed her and hope her journeys have been well blessed...." And he would await in quiet, as the Lady St. Laurence read the letter that he had delivered. It was true that he had discharged his duty in delivering the letter, but he had not be given permission to leave. Perhaps it was then, that he would consider that the letter could be about himself -- or, perhaps, that he was not intended to leave. There was a nod toward the one-eyed man, pleasant enough. But hiding the thought behind Brother Diarmuid's eyes. Let them try, he thought. He did not merely carry his staff was a walking aide -- but also as a means of defense. Brother Diarmuid trusted in God's peace and law...and baring that, the King's. But he did not believe on taking chances. There was an incline of his head, as the Lady St. Laurence spoke again. "Mm. This is true. Given that I have taken a wandering vow, m'lady, I am not sorely put upon by that....and if I do miss my brothers over much, my Order does still maintain perceptories in Eire." There was a slight bow, to the Lady's high praise. "It is true, m'lady, that I am well trained in both the physician's and warrior's arts.... and I think her ladyship praises me over much. I am but a humble brother, doing what work that God sets before me." That was some what mutable, of course, and had included battling Arabic pirates in the Mediterranean and giving scurror to the lepers of Canterbury. Of course, at the mention of the Knights Templar he was a bit surprised. And, of course, the logical question sprang at once to the for thought of his mind: had the accusations of French king been true? (D)


Master Vincere St.Laurence

"The Lady praises where praise is due. Humility is a virtue well accepted in this household. As it stands this is with fortune's desgnation. Our former priest in residence was Dominican, who of his age passed, god rest his soul." Both she and the guard, the one eyed man, crossed themselves in the same moment. It was like a dance as symmetry matched symmetry. "We would require a person whom could take the confession of many, for my household is quite large. " He would know this, if he stayed, "Also to perform a daily mass, certainly on the Sabbath of course, requisite saints days. He would christen as asked, last rites as one must be quite comfortable in this house in the knoweldge of a death." He felt the shadow creep no, turn from just under him to over him? She took her stick and held it with the tip before her, the upper end under her two hands. Without appearing as if it held her aloft that is precisely what it now did. "If my cousin recommends you, did she inform you the nature of my household?"
(d)

Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

Indeed, it would be something of matched symmetry. For Brother Diarmuid crossed himself as well, when the Dominican's soul was commended to eternal rest. The Knight Hospitaller would listen quietly as she ticked off her requirements for a confessor and priest. Such task as she named? Were some routine. (Although, true, he was not often called to christen many into the world....) Of had he heard confession from the faithful, and as for the Last Rites and the soul's journey? He had been a worldly man before he had turned to caring for the needy, and at least thrice had he been called upon them to perform the Last Rites at the lazar house. "I am your man, then, m'lady, if such services are required. I am no stranger to performing the rites -- rather it be those that welcome one to the mortal coil. Or see one from it." Then he shook his head quietly, "No, m'lady, I was not." (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"Let us be plan. This is a House of secrets, Brother Diamurd. We are at the Service of the King, thus the Queen. Their Majesties rely on the Order of the Talon to service as elite guardsmen, representatives of the pinacle of the knighthood, exemplified service, etc. Of the three shades of talon, this household is situated within the Ebony. We are mostly political in our works, gathering discretely the information of the age as his majesty deems fit, we appear in every variant of service from the hand of the house to the head of that house. Our presence is half a decade's age, our principles on which we are founded are far more enduring. Here I am known of as Master Laurence or Master St. Laurence, Madame is also quite common. I am the Grandmaster of this Order, and of the English house which now feeds this one after the end of the war, thus this body of islands in these waters. I am his majesty's ambassador and counselor, though I have been called for my additional services. Those within this house provide service along the simliiar vein. Your silence would be expected, it would be vowed to, and as men of God are often prone to silence as it is, I trust you shall have no problems keeping still. We are not a household of aetheists in founding, so it would not be our desire to kill a man of God. Should you betray us, that would be the price paid." She studied him as she spoke, never blinking. Statuesque to a fault. Evangeline was warm, fluid, and animated. That this thing bore any resemblance or lineage shared with the Irish woman was a wonder of the age. He might know, if he grew fortunate or bold enough to figure, that a woman could be shaped from stone to be both stone and woman, hard and living. This woman had earned her present ailments in a noble enterprise: the direct defense of England in militant leadership beside her husband, the Duke. Even sitting, did he feel at ease? (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

As she revealed to him the nature of this house, the truth of the Ebony Talon, what did she expect of him? Did she expect that she and her house would be decried as heretics and condemned with rhetoric replete with fire and brimstones? Insead, she would see that Brother Diarmuid was carefully considering her words. There was a quiet glance to her guardian, a bit more open in siezing the man up. Then he would turn back to the Lady St. Laurence. "Pray...forgive me, m'lady...but my conscience would ill rest if I did not ask...." He took a breath, knowing that his words could well see him in a fierce battle. "Is what you say true? ....do you truly work to benefit the King and Queen of this realm, to aide the people of it? What guarantee do I have, that I am not set to give succor to those who would break the peace of both the King and God?" Did he bring forth his rosary then, holding up. "Will you swear to the truthfulness of your words on the Cross?" In such times as these, such oaths - those sworn upon the cross or holy relics - were not to be done lightly. There would be a pause, before he said, "By and large, I am a man of peace... of good works... If what your house does is for the betterment of all... Then I am your man, Madame." It was likely said, that the last word was the most significant. (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"Pass me but the rosary closer, and you will be assured. Behind each King, Brother, is a force that moves where those in God's light do not. "For tho art my battle axe andw weaspons of war: For thee I will break in pieces the nations, and for thee I will destroy kingdoms." When the rosary descended in her hand she took hold of Christ the Savior as he hung in blood shed to spare the world. For if in blood given was sin so spared, then it stood to reason in self-sacrifice others represented this in different ways. Some only did the blood letting. She'd done both letting and been let out. "Unto God the father, Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit do I say that this is for the greater good." The rosary was summarily returned as with straight face she'd accepted, swore, and returned. "You may witness things in this house that will harrow the soul of most men, common or uncommon. Our methods are not always the product of mercy. It is requisite of our confessor to confess the souls of those who are the warriors of King and God in the dark places be of the same substance, understanding of the unison. Christ professes turn the other cheek, yet it is not in the nature of empire to always offer flesh for marring. We are of King's service, of Queen's service, and more importantly under God's favor." He would find the land was ambigious of faiths, would it disturb him? For all the Griffin's law england remained a Christian country where as Scotland was alarmingly secular in private and legality. "If you may accept these things, than we will accept you. Your service may even be called upon, you are Knight Hospitaler. You may consider your service thus extended to protect pilgrims as people the route being their lives. " (d)

ii.

Lady Janice deBrabant

Morning came with the fanfare reserved only for Gabriel's trumpet; she heard a legend as a girl that angels could hear the music in the start of the day but mortals were not privy to the divine tones of the Lord. Could she imagine different? She liked to believe she could as she stood on the steps to the Laurence House - the house of illusion. God and mortality were spheres moving like planets in a constant dance here along with Fate, Immortality, Philosophy, and Reason She'd knocked on the door, slid inside, and moved as one who knew the secrets. Being one yourself, it helped to find like minded persons. Still the girl was reknown in the Hall for the archives she kept, the languages she spoke. The Lady of Letters also was known for a better object - her smile. Today it graced the presence of the Lady Laurence at no less than 9'oclock. "Good day Madame."


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"Good day, Lady Viscreed," deBr bant was a herald to the outer spheres for in the turn of planets the stars panted Viscreed blazen in the universe. Outside she referred to her as deBrabant. Inside, she referred to her as how she found the girl from the nunnery at Marsielle. They were inside of her personal study to bring about the cultivation of new things from the old. A thin layer of dust had settled there, so thin as to only be days old. The work left undone was months old. English quandry, Spanish debaucle pulled the Master from old pursuits yet now? Now she was free to enjoy what she would. Or so one would think. In the privacy of the study she tapped her walking stick against the lower shelf, to which Janice attended while she worked on a shelf just her level. "Today we will amend what is to be amended, continue what we could not earlier continue. I should like to see how your apothecary skills have improved since our last venture." Medicine and science craft, mathematics. These three married in harmony would be the finest wine of St. Laurence. The basis of her astounding intellect: calculation. (d)





Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

Was it odd, that the house of illusion should also be a house of sound? Where once the tolling of a great bell had sounded the hours, now the house ran upon a more sublime form of time keeping. From the house's chapel, there could be heard the sounds of voice raised in hymn. For while the Lady of Letters and the Lady St. Laurence went thus to their meeting, Brother Diarmuid was holding a service not only for those neophytes that were in his care - but also for those faithful of the house. Since becoming the confessor the Ebony Hall - and guardian of its faithful - Brother Diarmuid paid heed to the writings of St. Benedict of Nursia... and adhered to the Liturgy of the Hours. For in the writings of St. Benedict, the hour of nine o'clock in the morning had another name: Terce. The nuns would surely have clicked their tongues at Janice, for she had missed Mid-Morning Prayer. Once Brother Diarmuid had concluded the Mass, he would venture forth. Stopping only long enough to find where the Lady St. Laurence was. (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"You have brought wonders from the other end of the world, child. Look at these." Works of Arabic math, science, medicine, and philosophy were partnered in a special collaboration of one page being the Latin in which all could read and the Arabic from which it derived. Claramae brushed her hands across the cover before putting it in with the rest of the meticulous organization comprising the rest of her personal library. The amount of books in ownership was an astounding feat. It took years to emass texts, some of which were her fathers, others her mothers, many her own, others her masters. Some were gifts. None of they were less than a wonderment. She classified the texts in accordance, for in this room were her texts on all things analytical. Brother Diarmurd would be told where to find the woman. It was a rather long distance from where he stood, across stairs and halls so that he was directed a shorter path by one of the maids who was given leave to know it. So many indirect passages in this house! One would argue that it were Hell so a holy man was needed to keep them from constant Purgatory plight? Such humor

Lady Janice deBrabant

"I prepared it for you on the way home for the most part," for the time to sit with translation of the personal was lessened due to the score of pivotal, time sensitive pieces to unravel mystery. One would think the child would grow tired of words! No, she loved them as much as she loved the stones making the sumptious residence of illusions, mystery, and death. She paused along with her master as a soft knock came from the private study a level below them. A level was above? Diamurd was left to be astonished as a seemingly sealed ceiling opened with tiny feet descending step-ladder stairs down to the landing as to come another four steps down in to the master's study. Even the amount of levels in this house were as hard to fathom as how the outside looked so plain (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

The good brother had quietly listened as one of the house servants began to describe how he should go, the man helpfully pointing this way and that while giving rather arcane landmarks. Once the man had finished, Brother Diarmuid considered that for a few moments. Then he said, "Sir.....I take that to be a little over a league away." Well, not quiet. But there had certainly been enough stairs, secret passages, and turns to have been given that impression. It was then that maid would step in...and spare the good brother from such a long, circuitous route. Once he had arrived at the private study, another of the household had hid a mischievous smile (the good brother was still new, after all, let him be surprised). The servant knocked at the door, before opening it. "The Lady will be with you in a moment," the servant said. Of course, no sooner had Brother Diarmuid turned his back -- then he heard a sound from the ceiling. Quickly, he'd turn about and look up. Good Heavens! Brother Diarmuid quickly turned his back, having spied a pair of rather petit feet descending the stairs. (Did Janice see that his tonsure was all blush?) Once Janice had made the floor, Brother Diarmuid peeked over his shoulder -- before turning about. "Good morning, milady." What did Janice make of the man who stood before her? He wore a simply habit of undyed wool, clearly made of humble cloth. That -and his tonsure - was enough to give the impression of this fellow being a man of the cloth. The Maltese cross that he wore about his neck seemed only to confirm it. (D)



Lady Janice deBrabant

God closes not one door without opening another. In this strange case it came from the ceiling where tiny feet appeared for an instant. Worry not, oh man of God, for it was only the tips of shoes he could see. No man save husband would ever be privy to Janice's ankles. (Unless one told the good brother of adventure stories which none in the house on pain of offense, ever would) "Good morn, Brother. Have you come looking for my master?" Said the tender soul who would lower in to a curtsy before him. "She will be down in just a moment or if you should wish, she will not mind you ascending to her place of study." Spanish color left imprints on the soul. She mixed a brilliant sky blue with deep blue fastenings. Once one had seen the dawn of of the country it was hard to return to abject, soul scathing shades. Still, she was more modest than most women her age given sleeve length with no chance at all to see a hem.The chest breathed, where a simple crucifix hung as proud as one wore a crown. "My name is Janice, sir, Janice deBrabant. Here you will here Viscreed though. I promise they are one in the same." She smiled - God help him - the smile was enough to kill a man for the joy it contained.

Master Vincere St. Laurence

"Show him the way, Lady Viscreed, he is quite welcome." So it was that the Janice stepped aside to allow the revered spiritual father up before her. (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid would incline his head, "Indeed, m'lady, I have come looking for Madame St. Laurence." It was not quiet an iron-clad cipher as some of the house used, but it was enough to let Janice know that he too was a member of the Ebony Hall. There was a pause, as he considered his choices. It was only at the Lady St. Laurence calling down, that Brother Diarmuid would smile, "Thank you, m'lady." Once he had gained Janice's name, he would offer a polite half-bow, "I am Brother Diarmuid O Corrian, of the Knights Hospitaller. And it is a pleasure, m'lady, to meet you." There would be another half-bow, before he would move to the ladder, before climbing up. Just as he had no need to worry about Janice's ankles, Janice in turn needn't worry about seeing untoward. After all, Brother Diarmuid wasn't a Cistercian! Once he had climbed in Madame St. Laurence's private study, he would smile to her. "Good morning!" If Janice followed, Brother Diarmuid extended his hand to help her up. (D)



Master Vincere St. Laurence

"Ask and ye shall receive." The Master, the Madame herself turned from the work of her shelves to meet who first came up the step-ladder to a bright place of intense sun. It moved across the floor, daylight, with amazing intensity from the fan shaped glass window at the back level of the room on a higher loft. Then from the other end more light poured in illuminating work tables with glass bottles, marble bowls, pestles. The scent of books was as obvious as the hints of rose-water from the woman's skin. Death smelled like roses. "Good morning Brother Diarmurd,how fare you? Ah, I see you have met the Lady Viscreed." So said of the petite young woman he assisted up the final step. "How might I help you today?"

Lady Janice deBrabant

Before each ascended to 'higher ground' Janice was content to meet a man of God on a lower plain. A Knight's Hospitaler in service to the household? Was it a marked preference, she wondered, over remaining Templar who called Scotland their haven when the rest of the world acknowledged them no more? At any rate his vow to Christ came before other things. She lowered once more, humbled. To follow him was to follow old tradition. (d)

Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

"I fare well, Madame, thank you," he gave a half-bow to her. There was a pause, before he said, "I hope that you will not consider it folly, m'lady, but I came to ask the same of you.....I did not see you at Terce." Well, that was true. But Brother Diarmuid had seen the Lady St. Laurence - as well as her cousin, the Lady O'Casey, and her man - at Prime. Still, Brother Diarmuid was the shepherd of the Ebony Talon and it id not hurt to occasionally prod a wayward lamb with his crook. Although he had not yet taken any great position as the Lady St. Laurence's physician, Brother Diarmuid was still a man of medicine as well as God. As for serving the Knights Hospitaller? Brother Diarmuid had little choice in the matter, for he had been given over the perceptory at Clontaf in 1306 --four years after the 'disbandment' of the Knights Templar. Many of the Templar holdings had been siezed by the Church and given over to the Hospitallers. (D)

Lady Janice deBrabant

His office was where God deemed put him. Until spoken to Janice remained dutiful, silent. She would take up where the Master had left off as if being one portion of the Master's mind. The books were cleaned by tender, knowing hands as if all the works of the world were like sisters and brothers. In some way they were. In many ways this house was more than what it seemed. More than even what it admitted to once one was in the inner bosom embraced. --

Master Vincere St. Laurence

The Maltese Cross fascianted the Master insomuch as she had little care what held his loyalty unto God so long as he didn't betray the state. She made pivot with the assistance of the stick only to lift in in two hands as she walked, determined to improve self with slight argerous task. The noiseless quality of pattern footfall was evident. "Thank you for seeking me out, Brother Diarmurd, you are very kind and caring to do so. It is not folly. You offer us a great favor by keeping the Holy Hours, in addition to assisting with the offerings of any daily mass. It has been my custom to hear the Mass daily, and in the presences of offices keep with early morning and both offices of evening prayer. I am pious and penant, sir, yet given the nature of my occupation precious little would be done if every hour were observed. Would you like me to endevor to attend you more?" It was an honest question poised to fellow brother-in-arms as well as lamb asking shepard. With her current state as it was she could surely do such a thing, having not had many chances to see the Liturgical Hours performed beyond Monastic houses. It was a fascinating edition to the spiritual life of the hall. "You excell beyond requested services, my thanks to you. I shall attend your mid-day office. If you like you may look about or sit, to your pleasure." His skills as a healer of body over soul would be required no doubt, thus far those with the skill that oversaw her were relegated to often one man: de Aquitatine. Often she oversaw herself but one can not always piece together one's own skin (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

There was a quiet glance toward the Lady deBrant, before revealing himself every inch a jolly friar. Brother Diarmuid smiled and chuckle softly, "Mm. As I well know, m'lady." That was said in reference to hours demanded of the Queen and King's Spy Master. "And has ever there been a parson that did not wish to see his flock at every sermon? The task that you - and many others - undertake is of dire consequence to the Crown." There was a pause, "And I believe ... like the one that they refer to as 'the Lion' ..you will seek me out if there is some grave and weighty matter that troubles you." Give leave, he would quietly wander about the room. Studying the books that were about the place. He would pause, one book catching his eye. It was a pamphlet on medicine from Jerusalem. He smiled quietly, "I knew the author....." It had been written by the physician who had kept him a slave for five years. (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"So it is and so it will be sir," said the Madame with no expense given to additional word for it wasn't necessary. 'Jolly friar' was in company with a severe seeming woman who eminated the cold under every silent step. Appearance was fickle seeming - he might no, already, that she was different from the status quo. Still it was rather disturbing the lack of sound, the evidence of no breath. The rarity of a blinking eye was arare again, too, as she healed. She watched him survey the works of the library only to come upon a treatise on medical care. "Did you?" she inquired with a genuine curisoity, "I find his work to be brilliant, and oft ignored through out much of the continent. It is strange his beliefs would find root here." Amidst the moor rock of Scotland.


Lady Janice deBrabant

Janice couldn't help but smile in return! Oh he seemed very Jolly indeed. His talk of holy offices made her face burn only to be glad it didn't show in color. She had not observed communal liturgical hours since living with the Claires in Marsielle. Her body would still genuflect in a woman's way at prescribed times of the day unless work summoned; more often the case like her masters she now observed a morning mass if it were available, the prayer times of early morning, mid day, vespers, and compline. Secular life left little time for prayer yet one needed it more in secular life. "You deliver your offices well. Yestereve was a beautiful Vespers, more so than the Cathedral." (d)



Brother Diarmuid O'Carrain

Brother Diarmuid inclined his head, although he was quiet. Lost in past thoughts, quietly turning the pages. Gently, he would shelve the book. "I did... although the way in which I met him was high unusual....." That smile still upon his features, he would say, "For five years, I lived under his roof as both slave and apprentice." It was a humble enough revelation. It was quiet likely that Brother Diarmuid had penned one or two of the physician's works from Arabic into Latin during that time. "Thank you, m'lady. You are generous in words... Is it a wrong to say that I draw upon my own experiences for many of them? Not vulgarly so, of course...Yet, I am sure that many of flock are either employed in taking up arms...or have since left that life. So it is not hard to craft messages that speak to the soul." (D)


Lady Janice deBrabant

"Such a time it must have been, Brother, I can not imagine.." In Spain, she had met a slave by the name of Othul-man who belonged to the Templar villian de Garza. His words were thick on a tongue of Spanish fluency but his body looked as if it belonged across the desert world. A man of God a slave to the Moors was seen as enough reason to cross the body, yet her hands only clasped, nodding in emphatic agreement with his words, "Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing to you, O God." Psalms 19:4. This was a bible reading country beyond the laymen and clergy, but further yet the young woman had been plucked from an abbey so had the education most women would have never thought to come within an inch of obtaining. "The words of your experience are fast then the words of the heart and mind. The best sermonds, I believe." Fingertips grazed the sign of the Christ before they settled over the wing of a little silver sparrow, higher up on her neck that the cross which was suspended just under it.

Master Vincere St. Laurence

"You have quite a tale, Brother. The library here is my collection of analysis you may say. Mathematics, sciences, philosophies." The bulk of the library was Latin and Greek, anything in the common venacular had been hand copied with great personal pain or a gift. In any case only the more recent editions of the books, since this realm, were printed ona press while the others were in long hand plain or long hand illuminated. (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Carrain

"It was not overly harsh, for he was a just and fair man," Brother Diarmuid said, as though to reassure Janice. "It was through him...and the actions of the boatmen who pulled me from the ocean.... that I learned things of myself. And of God's true plans for me." Although he had been a Knight Hopsitaller since the age of five, Diarmuid would not have considered himself a man of God until after returning from the Holy Land. Indeed, often his sermons would either focus on the parable of Lazarus the Beggar....or that of the Good Samaritan. One stressed that those who could, were duty bound to aide the less fortunate. While the other? Stressed tolerance and brotherhood with all who walked upon the earth-- whether they were European, Moorish, or Cathayan. (D)


Lady Janice deBrabant

"This is a blessing to hear, but it is good to see how you've emerged either way sir. God is good." Right hand raised to cross herself as would her Masters'. She offered the Brother one of the seats to take nearby while she continued to pluck up a small stack of books for the shelf. Ever kind, she would take the few that Claramae had urging her to take a seat while not overdoing the healing, which by all marks was simply exceptional and admirable. Much as a mother is proud of a daughter so the Master seemed.

Master Vincere St. Laurence

"So how shall you pass your time until the next office, Brother Diarmurd?" The seat elected was a high stool, for heaven knew she needed no back to a chair to remain as her station demanded of a woman. (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid would smile quietly, as Janice offered him a seat. "Thank you, m'lady." Once he had taken the offered seat, he would smile and say - in Arabic - "Indeed. God is great." There would be a
crossing of his form as though there were doubt about his faith. While Brother Diarmuid had never sought to convert in his years in the Holy Land, neither did he proselytize to those of other faiths. For it seemed to him, there were many similarities between the God of Abraham and the God of the Prophet Mohammed. It had been those similarities that had seen him slowly turn away from a martial worship in Christ....to a more merciful one. "Mm. I do think that between the Holy Hours.... at least until Sext. After that, I think I shall head once more in to the city..." Both to collect alms to the poor and help alleviate the suffering that the less fortunates endured. "Slowly, Ithink, I am becoming familiar with the people there...and the streets." (D)


Lady Janice deBrabant

"There are many streets in the city of which to become familiar, if you should ever like a guide it can certainly be arranged." The Brother was a member of the household; his holy vocation was still one the
Master thought might benefit from the presence of a knowledgable guide, if not a guard. Some places twisted and turned in Turas Lan to desperation; a depravity of the soul could starve a man worse than what he lacked in food stores. He would have a better chance nourishing their body on some days than saving their souls. Mind drifted to the darker side of the docks, to the Under-dark Labryinth sliding down on the gradient one more street or so behind the house. "There is much to see, to learn in this city." Janice was highly pleased at the absorbtion of the Arabic tongue by the holy man only to reply in turn ,"May we all live to serve no will but his," in fluent Arabic. She was invited with a hand, and so came to join the pair of them on another stool. "Perhaps one of my guardians and I might show the Brother the city? I should much like to give alms and comfort,as a thanks to God for all that became of Spain." (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

There was a broad smile on the Brother's face, "While I am deeply flattered for this concern over my well being, I do hold a great deal of faith in both the peace and laws of God....and barring that, the King and
Queen. I also would not turn away those would give me aide....." This was where his smile turned a tad mischievous, "I do remind you both that I am a Knight Hospitaller." Indeed, since its founding the Order of St. John had slowly evolved in to an order of soldiers given over to God instead of brothers be they monks or friars - turned to the care of injured or sick pilgrims. But even with his faith in the laws and peace of God, the King, and the Queen....he was not naive. The walking stick that he oft had carried withhim? Its knobby grip had been filled with lead, making it an impressive cudgel when the need arose. After a moments pause, "Although, Madame, I would ask for a hauberk and padded dublet....." (D)

Master Vincere St. Laurence

"True, Brother, and your skill cannot be questioned yet one still needs to see where one is going?" She covered her mouth to hide the curves of a bright smile for the sake of politeness, listening to therest as to what he felt was necessary and needed -- "Of course. Lady Viscreed will you please convey this, to see that the Brother has all he would require. See that he will have ahauberk and two padded dublets. Preparedness. I would give this to Lord Voltaire, so that he might instruct the weapon's master properly. Also if you
would be so kind as to tell one of the maids to fetch a small repast we all might share?" She had not eaten on rising this morning and now the hour of nine was giving way toward ten, if not later. Janice curtsied and departed down the ladder-steps leaving the Spy master and Master of religion alone for a time. "How are you finding the household so far?" (d)

Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

There was another smile, as he said, "I admit that there is some truth to that...." Perhaps it was the smile in Janice's eyes that he had seen, to make him smile so? There was a smile when Madame St. Laurence spoke of preparedness. "Indeed." Perhaps later the good brothermight acquire a bascinet and heavy mace to go with the hauberk? While he was indeed a shepherd to his flock.... sometimes it was necessary for a shepherd to drive off the wolves. As to his household, he would take a moment's thought. "I mean no offense when I say it.... but I find that my entry here may have been guided by a sign from God. Many here are burdened here both heart and soul, by what task they do." It was clear that this was not an indictment against the Ebony Hall or the Lady St. Laurence, but simply astatement of fact. "It does them good to have someone that can unburden too." While it was not a constant increase from Holy Hour to Holy Hour (as many followed their Madame's example), there was still a perceptible growth in attendance when he would perform Mass. (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"If I may say in reply, sir, that is to be expected when one's duty to the state requires the breech of every known commandment to God only to repent and exonerate them doubly. I am certain some have been drawn
by the possible accumlation of wealth, adventure, knowledge, curiosity but the reality remains the same. No level of this house be it low or high is without burden." She looked at the cross on his habit, calling attention to it with a cant of head "They bare that, albeit unseen. The Holy Hours, the Mass, confessions, the Eucharist..all of it is an offer to those within this house. It is better to go forward as God's chosen than without his grace. Some I do not doubt are aetheists, some perhaps pagan to a degree but they adhere to the household's practices. Many at the very least find it comforting." the Madame was a believer. Once, rumor suggested it was as many nobles did but a practice of state, same as to how most ancients were pagans only until the state calledt hem forth to practice. No, she was consecrated unto the task. "For whatever weapon God should ask, someone has taken the vow to wield it. What knowledge, someone commands it. What manner, some enact it. I felt it better to retain a connection to the Church through our household than always within the Cathedral. As you've seen the workings of our household are very private, and some are not always able to leave their tasks to attend." (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid smiled quietly, "I care not whether amember of this household praises God, Allah, or Yahweh..... I care only that his a member of this household in need of succor." There was a smile, "When
one lives as I have.... the Parable of the Good Samaritan gains new credence." He took a breath, "As you say, it is hard being a warrior or servant with God as one's master.... of that, I can attest. And it does indeed do great wonder to be given such succor and comfort. And if there ever is a member of this
household in need if it, I need only be aware of then. Then I shall do whatI can for them. For all here are my flock...my brothers....my sisters." (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"Thank you, sir, that is all we require of you." The Madame gave a soft cant of her head, "I hear you've bet the Lord General then, how did you find him? As you see the court is quite diverse. He ismuslim. My own master was a Jew." Fascinating the blend of faiths in theland. The repast came via one of the pages, leaving the Madame to figurethat Janice must still be in discussion with people elsewhere (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

There was a smile, "In truth, I first encountered the Lord General on my journey to you..... he struck me as rather gruff." Bit of an understatement, perhaps. Brother Diarmuid considered his interactions with
the Queen's Lion, "I would say that colored our first meeting.... apparently, the General considered me some sign. Of what, I am not sure." There was a bit of a wince, "Although, I do confess at confusing his gruff nature for rudeness.... I remarked that perhaps I was revealed as a sign to each him humility and tolerance." He was quiet, "I am still not sure what sign he sees in me, but he did seek me out yesterday.... As I gave alms in the poor quarter, he followed me. ...from our conversation, I gather here is much weight on his shoulders and in his heart..." Brother Diarmuid did not yet fully understand what all the General had gone through. "He still has questions, I think, and is indeed of succor..." There was a smile, "On a pleasant note, he did invite me to an upcoming festival." (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"The General is a robust presence on the island, a veteran of many campaigns as his service extends across kingdoms. Despite his age he has attained much," thereby implying that she was the General's elder. To gaze on her face didn't give much credit to that idea. She listend to him more as to the nature of how the general found him and he likewise, offering with a gentle touch of hand "You will find many such men of service here gruff, a little grave, and terribly abrasive but they are good men who will benefit from such a calming presence. Ah, a festival? That is lovely. So I trust you have seen the residence of the Lord General thus the area of a certain lady's keeping? The Bant Chan Ser is exquisite countryside. Would you like tea, Brother? I could offer you as well a beer or wine if you would prefer, I simply do not indulge very often if at all." (d)

Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

"A beer, milady, if you please...." In all honesty, if you were to find Brother Dairmuid with a tankard in his hand? It was guaranteed to be a beer, for he had acquired a taste for it early in his life. (The perceptory where he had grown to manhood had brewed their own, as had more than a few monastery that he had stayed at during his journey from the Holy Land to Skye.) There was a smile, "Indeed, the Ban Chan Ser is exquisite countryside. There is only a few places that rival it....." He was reminded of Tuscan hills, French vineyards, and other beauties. "And I was a touched surprised to learn that the Cistercians and the Fransicans maintainmonasteries there...." It was likely that he would stay at the monasteries as hetraveled from Tarus Lan to Red Wall for the festival. "Sadly, I did not have the good fortune of meeting the Lord General at his holdfast, but rather inthe country. And I believe you speak of the Lady Eirian?" (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence


"A beer it is." She poured him one from the pitcher to offer him in a tankard. Like everything else in the home the quality was exceptional. Detail, painstaking detail was devoted to the Hall's every aspect. "The Valley is quite a thriving province now, of shepards and yeomen, art. A picturesque setting for religious life, I have heard there shall also soon be an abbey for an order of nuns, of Poor Clares. Lady Viscreed lived among the Clares for some years and frequented them as a child for religious education""The Lady Eirian is the Valley's keeper. She is so gracious as to allow many to build additional homes within, settler and higher alike. It seems quite a merry place." (d)


Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid smiled, "Thank you, mistress." He would take his beer, enjoying it quietly while he and Madame St. Laurence spoke."Mm. I have always wondered at the cloistered life....For even as I grew to manhood in one, oft have I wondered if being shut away from the world truly allows us to do God's work...." Brother Diarmuid himself often thought that he did more of God's work during his forays to lazar houses and poor quarters, then he did within the walls of his chapel. "The Lady Eirian stirkes me as a good and pious woman." (D)


Master Vincere St. Laurence

"Many would challenge you to find a more pious soul. I should think that an equal might be found in the Lady Inveryne, whom you've not yet met. Surely twixt them and the Lady Viscreed we all might be saved."
Came the gentle jest on the unmoving face "I have never lived a cloistered life, though it seems it would lend itself more to meditation on work than works themselves unless one is often out, yet I have never experienced it so I can not truly say. You have lingered here quite awhile. I am suprises you find this place all that fascinating. Otherwise it would only be myself unto my studies." (d)

Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

"Then is hat not a grand thing? If there is indeed such a wealth of pious men and women, then surely I shall have want of work." Jest was met with jest. There was a nod of his head, "Mm. Perhaps there is some truth to way you say. Some seem drawn to that life." Brother Diarmuid had always been one to favor action over mediation. It was one thing to pray for the relief of the poor...and quiet another to go out and actually provide that relief by giving alms and bread in the flesh. There was a smile, Truth be known, I only stayed for a touch of repast and a tankard of beer....." Hah, another jest! "Seeing as m'lady is far too kind to turn me out, I feel I should repay her with conversation." (D)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Between Generations - master & apprentice, time in flight

i.

Julian Monroe

September 12 The Year of the Lord 1333 I feel as though I walk alone, in a world with so many faces--they appear all the same. Inside my mind I hear them laughing, and when I close my eyes all that can be would pass as then I wake up in a pool of their blood. It is a sickness really, but I have been so long without faith I feel all is lost. In his mind he had gone over the pages a hundred times, with ink as black as the night. Often when he watched his Master pen letters he wondered if the ink was but water that had run from the fine ebony strands of Jean-Claude's hair. 'How have you learned to write so fast?' He had asked Jean once sitting at the other side of the desk watching his Master's hands move over the pages.'Practice my Mon Cher Garçon,' Jean-Claude lifted his eyes only for a moment to see the youth of 14 across from him, 'Have you been keeping your journal?' He put the quill back into the ink to settle in the boy's attention, and smile as he watched Julian shake his head, 'Ah..but how will you learn if you do not practice.' 'But I don't know what to write about.' 'The first thing that comes to your mind, Julian, you have not yet learned that there is in fact such wonders waiting to be explored.' It seemed like a lifetime ago, and now in the open halls he stood a man. Spain had made him a man while Janice made him a husband, but it would always be Jean-Claude that saved his soul. Why was it on those papers he felt he could tell the world everything, but admit only lies to the rest.He was not ok, and if only he was not so silent perhaps he would find a way to heal. On this day he was dressed the part of a courtier, a master apprentice, and a gentleman. His hair had been combed back, and his clothes were put together with tailored precision. "I am here to see Master Laurence." He spoke to the men at the door, with hands folded behind his back, and his shoulders pressed back. (d

Master Laurence

I do not recall when so many things came upon the world at once. A peaceful plain that is far from it because the borders erupt in fire that the likes of I, our apprentices, and the masters. So young a place with so old a history as to make a handful of years one hundred long. I do not recall when so many things came upon the world at once.. sure stroke of the quill formed the letters from a skilled hand. Beautiful fingers curved gentle to the tip of the instrument. Each letter cross, each tall stroke indicative of the same hand holding stilleto, rapier, physician's tools, and means of science. On this particular day as the hours climbed up beyond the visiting time spent with the man who's spiritual office took him away near noon to observe another Holy Prayer, she remained in the beautiful room above her study. "The Master is within her study," Julian was told by one of the household adorned in black. He was an apprentice himself. "It has been a long time, Monroe," he offered a half grin as he turned to lead him on"How was Spain?" Along the corridor beyond the foyer and up the stairs behind the tapestry illusion making a wall of seeming permanence. Up the stairs was a shorter passage to the hall that housed the quarters of the grandmaster and the other chosen. Through the doubled doors to the place of the beautiful polished desk, high backed chair, and books. But above? To another landing, then another by the great window. Up the ladder-steps descended from the ceiling to the long hardwood floors and collections of math, science, philsophy, alchemy. to tables to glass viles, to potions and herbs. To mineral stone. To one of the great window sets on either end where at the Western Window Julian would be delivered to her. "Ah, you've brought Monroe. Thank you, young Voltaire." He had Voltaire's name, and some of his face in a younger form. As the young man left she revealed him: "young Claudio Voltaire. He is the Lord Voltaire's son. His mother has passed on and he completed his journey from the papal states to hear. How can I help you, young master Monroe?" Still silent no sentinal was ever more beautiful for the death it could bring. Even the walking stick was lifted as to prolong it not being used as she improved. That, too, had to be deadly (d)

Julian Monroe

Moments were spared before Julian could place his face, the name seeming all too well forgotten in the past couple months for shifting as it could the sands of time aged his face only a little. Julian did well in his act of stoic stone, and he hardly offered the youth a look. His reply.."It was not this cold dismal isle," was his answer. It would be all the son of Voltaire would get the icy eyes of Monroe, though for once there was nothing bitter to be said, or a smart remark to be made. Nerves fired like bolts of lightning through his body with the race of his heart when he finally stepped into the study of Lady St. Laurence, and he felt as though his heart would stop when her voice spoke. "What a shame." There wasn't any conviction in his voice, but neither was their compassion. This was the mind of Monroe, he was closed and cold to the world. What was Claudo's loss of his mother to him? She would understand this wouldn't she? Perhaps at one point? "My Master sends this." He extended his hand to reveal the seal of Master Aquitaine imprinted with red wax a letter penned to her. Ma Diamant, do be kind. Keep my heart in mind as you take this boy. In sickness or in health, we do not break our promises remember? Forever, Your Loving Brother. Jean-Claude had smiled when he wrote this letter, the way his script was open and free was the one true sign. On the bottom there was one last set of words, Go only as far as you feel comfortable. What did that mean? Looking at Julian now the tired rings around his eyes almost made him look evil, but it was the distant look that sealed the thought.The whites of his eyes were pink nearly red with the strain of his lack of sleep, but it was simply the lifeless boring hack that had come from Bryan Row that was almost startling. To those who did not know him nothing had changed, but to those who knew of the day to day Spain had in fact changed this man. (d

Master Laurence

"Make a memory, Monroe of his name, his origins. Italiano-German. His name, Claudio, is indicative of which root has more place. You will see him much, you will take your swordsmanship lessons with him, lessons on tactics of the body. The signatures of this house - flexibility,versatility, muscle memory, increased strength. The ability to move as no man should in places no man can devices." She accepted the letter only to break the seal in startling, quick movements to read what it contained. If she could reply with only her thoughts she would say no promise ever made between them would be broken. Go only as far as comfortable - or as far as he could take - which was it? The note was folded again in synchronized movements before it was tucked away. "You have been under duress since your return. Of the mind, I should take it. What was scene has left an impression on you?" She walked to him, around him, "I imagine it would, both inpositive and negative aspect, the combining of them makes them hard to filter which is which. I am impressed Monroe, by the caliber of your work on your own as well as partnered. That was quite an undertaking for an apprentice. My true praise of you. Brava. Come. Sit." (d)

Julian Monroe

His eyes were out of focus listening but still in Spain living every moment again and again. It was the way his heart beat that caused the sparrow around his neck to warm against his skin, but it would be only then did he meet her eyes as he took a seat. "You are mistaken." A bit bold, "I am here of my will." His voice offered no proof nor did the language of his body. "Spain was enlightening to say the least. I would recommend it to anyone who dare wish for adventure. We hardly stopped." It was the truth. For a moment he became quiet, almost squaring away with her in his manner of body arrangement, but his eyes icy eyes not once leaving her own, "I have not had proper time to thank you for the opportunity. I know well that had it not been your faith in me, Jean-Claude would have never let me go." He does not trust me..your letter said this. "The Lady Viscreed, did her part well. She has grown rather well into playing the roll of pious virgins, I am certain should she wish a other living she would be the best actress on the stage of the theatre, or the highest paid courtesan." And this he said of his wife! Yet, what was Julian without tearing Janice apart? (d


Master Laurence

"It is not your will I am discussing, Monroe in the sense of choice to be here or not. It is in the duress of your health, unless you have taken to painting your eyes with black rims. You need to rest, it is not coming to you. This is the 'duress' I speak of. We will be improving your ability to listen. Fully. This is paramount." Error one - correction offered. She sat across from him with hands in her lap. She appreciated his candor, the vitality of the stare. Already he was stoic. Good. A canvas with no painting save evident exhaustion. "I look forward to reading the full reports. With much to have done I have heard only pieces of the telling. You are welcome. You are twenty, some apprentice seven years before an individual venture, some less. I felt that four with the extensive knowledge de Aquitaine would have given you is plenty, and the faith was justified. Your physiality is astonishing, your calculation riveting," said one who appreciated mathematics, "The Lady Viscreed will no doubt appear this role for all time, the droll nature of your words," she admitted they were droll, Janice herself had been given to self depricating humor. It was a defense mechanism no doubt. All had it. "Did more her part than that. I do believe without said pious virgin speaking the Native language or the languages on the parchments you would have been at quite a lack. Have a care of your partner. She, too, is close to being declared a journeyman like yourself. So as you are here of your own will allow me to impart. I have agreed to further your education in these arts and of culture, your master is like my brother which mean his progency is as to my progency. Did he inform you I am seeking my true successors?" (d)


Julian Monroe

"Oh..Forgive me Master. I was confused, for I have always thought the definition of 'duress' was to be held against ones will, or the be forced into giving something against the heart. Confinement. Imprisonment. To my sleepless nights perhaps? That must have been what you meant." Oh, such bitterness in that tone! It was hard to not call her out on her own mistake, or to live in the moment. He did not gloat, nor did he rub it in..however, he was very firm on the rolls they played. "I have been under a bit of 'distress', but it has nothing to do with Spain." Yet everything. Was this what Jean-Claude spoke about? How he needed to be put in his place? Disciplined. Julian argued with valid points, or he did not argue at all. Yet, in his conviction of her being wrong he was careful not to make her feel as though he would Janice. He let his anger rise then, when she spoke of him not caring of his partner, but quickly sat it aside. If they could but look in the mirror perhaps they would see each other's reflection right then. "Jean-Claude tells me nothing of you or this Order. How am I to know you are seeking successors when I am not even certain what it is you do." (d

Master Laurence

"Ah, let me be plain them, Demonstrate." With that the woman's fingers were a scorpion tale that stung at the center of his hand with a jab, then her stick atleg back rendering both hand and leg stuck firm. How? What it was she could do was as hard a question to as as how it was done. The ultimate answer would be did he wish to unlock it? "You are skilled, yet take no compliment you do not return without disdain. Your skill will mean nothing without discipline for it will wither and fade. Your master does not trust you and without his trust you will not advance very far. Unless you intend to be his apprentice the remainder of your days? I hardly think so." She stood like a wraith in her emerald silks, moving about the chair. Could he keep track of her pace? "You will mind or you will find yourself stuck in far worse postures, sir. Your master is a man of the court and as such you will be as well. Your conduct unless it *suits* you is disgraceful. I will not have it." No flicker of anger, no sign of exasperation. This was the Master Laurence on who's threshold he stood, selected, privy to all her secrets." You should not accept it, or you will go no where. What is it I do should be very plain." And at a point of his neck, she released him from the hold. "Come with me, down the steps. Come in silence." Dare he test it otherwise? This woman should be dead. His own master should be dead. How they lived was a question worthy of study. "I will show you." (d)

ii.

Julian Monroe

Surprise was the key element here within the Hall of Stone was it not? Perhaps, Jean-Claude would have been surprised to find his apprentice stone silent as he took the lashing from Claramae. Peregrine, would have thought it a sick twisted morbid pleasure, but Julian only used it to harden his heart. Though he carried her words from vessel to mind like fingers down a clear cool stream, the Apprentice hardly seemed phased. However, all was said in his silence all that would need be, and Julian moved behind her in a whispered step.


Hardly any life surrounded the youth, and after his first lesson with Claramae there was nothing left of his already dry personality. It was a mask he wore well, into the halls of complete and total stillness. Hardly any reason to talk, and as his body stuck from the lashing so too did his pride. Though he kept his face straight forward, his direction unchanged, his eyes followed along the lines of the structure, and over the faces of the paintings. Was that Janice? Perhaps it was of another little blonde with a big nose in the act of her childhood, but just the familiarity of it soothed him as only she could. If he were a lesser man he would have taken it, to hang above his bed. Yet something told him, this Hall would not be so easily stolen from. It was when they passed something crafted from the Master Sorchel did he stop, only to brush his fingers over the gears. Embarrassed for the lapse in his professionalism he moved to catch up with Claramae if she did not stop. He was simply intrigued was all, and for an instance who Jean loved in this youth came out.


Master Laurence

De Aquitaine would have been surprised by a combination of things: Laurence had spoken, Monroe listened. Laurence had pinned him, still he did not protest. Monroe had been given leave to rise, and he hadn't attacked. In the first several moments of the interlude he might have shook his head with disapproval at his apprentices' penchant for finding error as much as his sister's harsh standard enacted on the body of a young man who was like his son. Claramae in truth was pleased at his ability to detect linguistic error: she had used the word 'duress' in lieu of 'distress' on purpose. In explaination he hadn't believed, which was good. What ruined the progress was his mouth's almost infalible ability to spill out what was in the mind. Did he harden his heart or its exterior only to prevent it from chipping? Did he throw it down on his soul to steel it? The woman was the pinicle of what he tried to express by expressing nothing.

They departed from her upper study and back to the hall itself. Pictures and objects were cause enough to stop. He indeed had passed a picture of Viscreed painted by one of the students in the Hall with an artistic aspiration. It was not bad at all, captured when the brown tresses were giving way to gold, her large nose had an almost born aristocratic point. Her hair had been left down with the addition of soft twists, the gown a naturalist's concept. Almost Greecian, she looked as if she could have been someone's muse. She was, really. Julian's muse. That wasn't a secret he'd be willing to tell yet though as his Master had turned by the time he'd caught up. "It is alright to look. Your steps are quiet, even if the halls are built to not amplify sound in most areas, just in certain. Very good. You are interested in the work of Sorschal?" So subtle. A lesson without the setting of a lesson. "He is a man,like most here including yourself, many years ahead of his present era. There is a rumor I have heard among military men that we are the souls of those who have gone forward only to return. Supersticious things. At any rate, this system of gears animates particular aspects of even this hall. Come." She beckoned him all the closer to her before she looked at the pattern in the floor's marble,just beyond the edge of an oriental rug. Tiny foot tapped the spot three times before his keen hearing no doubt could hear the keen shift of the gear grind as a space opened up in the floor,a way to trigger one of its traps. By tapping the place once with her foot again, the trap closed yet another aspect of the hall opened behind one of the walls. "The house is called Ilusion Castle among the noviates. There is an easier way to activate this sequence, but easier is not necessarily to benefit. Otherwise people would memorize. This is how we will get to our area for lessons." Gently she positioned him in her spot ."Now, did you see the stone I struck with the ball of my foot first, and then the full foot in its closing? If not it is the one just beneath your left foot. It is seen as it is the exact edge of the oriental rug, leaving you but a pair of inches for space in the sequence. Your left foot. Always your left foot. Three times on the ball to open the center of the floor, once to close to open the other hall. Yet if you strike the floor four times in succesion it will open up our hall, not the trap floor. Your Master still has a hard time figuring this, but where the elder have complications the young often do not." Not a shred of anything familiar yet her hands had not forced him, but gently guided him. She kept her hands upon his shoulders in case his step should faulter, the tone of her voice was even a little..gentle. Was that the only 'familiar' trace of anything. "You will be my successor after all with time, and are akin to my nephew now."


Julian Monroe



His mind turned over the idea of something beyond the invisible. How truly amazing it was to open doors with the small click of his heels, and he marveled Jean-Claude could do it at all. His Master was an amazing man, and though Oxford had somehow nearly cured him of his limp, Julian knew his legs were still with a deeper ache that only the brush of fire could worsen. There was a way to watch her speak of Jean-Claude, with a fondness in her eyes that could have rivaled his own. She did so well to mask her affection, but was it for pity upon him? So many stories had come to pass about this hall, and the Lady who resides inside it that even out in the remote parts of Scotland he had heard of her ways--so in this was his reason for not acting. All his life he had been struck across his wrists, hands and even back by ways of upbringing and teaching. 'To beat the devils thoughts out of you boy', but did they not know he dreamed of this place? In dreams he watched Jean-Claude walk into his life, and in dreams he followed through the various places of his soul to see it come to life. They breathed before him..though often when Jean-Claude was deep in thought he felt for certain his master's skin would be cold.


"I do not believe in the superstitious," He started quietly going over the gears, "but I believe what they say about the souls." He turned to Claramae with eyes as cold as the deep winter, and as pale as the reflection of sky on the snow, "Sometimes..Jean-Claude will get this look in his eyes. A very distant separated look that gives me chills. Like he is hearing voices in his head." In truth it gave everyone chills, for eyes to be so dark they appeared black. Jean-Claude's color was a very matt color that reflected so little light it was nearly impossible to know at what direction he was looking. or he was even looking into your eyes--or your soul, Jean-Claude had the ability for this he was certain. Somewhere in the break of the boy's miserable expression there had been the faint ghost of a smile if only for single second as he thought of Jean-Claude's struggle with this. He would curse no doubt in French all the way down.


As Claramae positioned Julian he would turn a look over his shoulder at her with a small hint of amusement though the presence of it only showed for a second before his face paled and his eyes grew dark and the air was pulled from his lungs. His hands quickly went out to touch of anything for support in fear of falling as in his minds eye he watched as the world opened around them like he would have imagined the floor to open, but instead of pits to other rooms there was fire. Julian quickly moved from her hands, and the stone in the floor. "Wh..Where does the trap floor lead?" Was that fear? o.O


Master Laurence

A place of dreams made real, but what quality and color? It and its keepers were a kaliedscopic lot comprised of ten hundred prisms to be at once the unification and absence of all color, to be black and white,the shades of gray. Did he see her physical touch as at once a thing to be terrified up, a thing that would 'reprimand him?' Or had he memorized the amount of pressure and touch sequence for the paralysis? Would he try it on an adversary or himself? Julian had never ventured to take back his own body and thoughts from either the corporeal or physical things that assaulted him. One essence of self practice to a degree was it refashioned form in one's own image. "Your mind seems too analytical, my dear, for supersticions.Yet the soul is rather metaphysical." The woman was strange. If he could read himself he thus had the keys to read her. Try, Julian. Everything a constant lesson in her presence and she would tell you when it was over. Go beyond the layer to the other as one does in reading body language. A lesson within a lesson. This was the art of Laurence.

Jean-Claude was a man of wonders who was stifled in working for the pirate or at the bottom of his shop. Peregrine had come to them because of Sorchal's insistance and in remaining, even now at a distance, he had come to be called ally, friend, Master. He would never pass on his skill because the wind doesn't share where it comes from unless your a creature of old myth. Being no such creature existed there would never be hope for a predacessor for him in other than seeing what creature crawled in the Underdark with as much strings as he had. Jean-Claude was different. He was long suffered with a mind that still sparked in spite of his suffering. He was genius only needing a place with limitless parameter. When he'd returned from England invigorated, Claramae was fascinated by the reasons why. Had they been tied to metaphysics, a way to categorize the unknown? The soldiers said it was a blessing from God for his service to England, and for his rescue of the small woman named Eirian from Oxford. God, too, extended his hand or Master Laurence would not be walking. She should still be in endless reams of pain.

It was almost funny but too tragic to be that way when her one moment of near open affection crippled the boy with fear. Julian couldn't mask that if he'd tried. He was so happy to be given a glimmer of trust, a chance to witness the gears in motion only to be paralyzed by fear's reality. After he pulled away from her a touch of the matron would usher him over, offering him a hand to accept instead of outrightly taking it. "Come here, it is alright. You need to calm first, come. I didn't know it would be overwhelming for you, and I apologize." Apologize? She did not need to be terribly expressive, an upturned hand, and actual, viable emotion in her eye was enough to make any in the house freeze in place. Yet, had his master ever told him what it was like to see Master Laurence smile or laugh? That England had fallen to its knees with tears at her tears, prayer for her life? She truly was going to educate him, yes, but wished for them to be familial. It was long overdue. Jean-Claude may have been too soft but she knew the price of extremism. It put Vizharen in distress of the mind all his days. He had been noble, honorable, and upright for a long time until the black seed grew into the cankerous weeds that undid him. This was not a fate she wished to see replicated. "That particular slit in the floor leads down through the levels to a solid enclosure on the third floor. A holding place. If one actually manages to infiltrate this far than the reasoning was to keep them alive to learn how. I do not suspect it will be utilized however. There are too many other things to move beyond first. A little more inevitable." Gently the hand steadied her center before it was offered again. She wasn't completely healed. Only a fraction of the way, and that fraction like everything else was astonishing. "One thing is for certain about our souls. They are often cut, hacked, and remade more times in a day than many will ever know in a lifetime."

[Julian Luke Monroe]

Julian wanted so greatly to fire back he was not afraid, nor was he overwhelmed. However, how did one tell the other it was the fear of hell that scared him so deeply. Visions behind his eyes he could not explain nor willingly admit. "I am not afraid." He confessed, "To be afraid of what is beyond, is to be afraid of death. I welcome it, Master, should it be in the plan." In his voice there was hardly any proof that such a way of speaking was even the truth of what he spoke, for his was a dry tone that perhaps only she would understand.

"You mistake only my excitement for fear." Death had become a funny subject as he inwardly didn't welcome it as he should, he didn't want to leave Janice. She had become the very reason he lived, and the one thing he looked forward to seeing when he opened his eyes each morning. For the past few nights he had watched her sleep, feeling a tenderness come to life in him that had never been expected. He had never known of how love felt until her, and every little touch even the most innocent felt like the first.

"I'm impatient." He admitted, "Is all. And excited." Though there wasn't a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but the way he spoke simply offered very little conviction of the truth. There was not much of him that could be so easily read, but when he looked at her then before taking her hand the blue in his eyes seemed just a wee bit brighter with the truth of how he was more then willing to do as she asked.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

She waited to say anything else until after he accepted her hand. Glistening blues became hopeful, earnest things that told her he had waited a long time to fathom even a minute fraction of these secrets. Had he been waiting for her, too? "We vow to die for our cause, but we aren't zealots Monroe." Didn't the extent of duty argue otherwise? "No one goes hunting for death unless they are fools or poorly trained, we merely use the elements to our advantage. At times if death is called forth to be given, the risk grows. We are closer to the element because we conquer and subdue it only to surrender to it with grace when our years shorten at God's hand or some meet what they call the final cause. Master Voltaire is nearly sixty, you know. Lady Brohmeilde is just over fifty herself." The hall had several in the first few years that would never knew advanced age because there had been hardly any time to train them before turning them loose on demon hoardes. Claramae determined that the fate of the courtesan Nairne to be butchered would not be his fate. It was said this was the woman who saved Sorschal from the fate of a Gottschalkian life. Her only regret was Percival; Talion has never told her that she was training her own half brother to his rigorous, overbearing standards. Both of them had given service to Talion when each needed no master. From fealty came love only for it to be twisted by his own hand to form what he thought would be an unstoppable team, always balanced in any extreme. The Avarian understood militant structure but was terrible at fathoming the art of St. Laurence which fascinated him. What it had done was taken a full vessel, pushed it to capacity so it shattered. Percival was everything any set out to fashion him to be, but he was also haunted by everything. He was jaded, bitter, always hunting for the one thing he kept denying because it was denied him: Humanity. Whispers of St. Laurence being the only one to contain him added to the woman's mystique of presence, her prestige as a teacher. To harness forces of nature, stop them, or unleash them was as lethal a quality as if she were asked to undo the binds on her own storm.


"You are excited? Mm. I am pleased." How could he tell? The only way to do so was the difference in eye focus. She did this on purpose, to show him the merely subtle hints to watch for in others. Lessons within lessons. Small hints that one dwelled on later became questions. It was in this way she excelled at what her master had called an inborn ability to be stone. His greatest challenge it was said was to get her to laugh at all, which was why he knew that she and Sorschal would bring about the youth in the other at the time. Together they walked from the hall in to the dark. For a minute the pitch black consumed them until streams of sunlight exploded in from panes of glass. As they walked through the dark space toward one more opened, the carpeted walk began to arch. He was standing in one of the famed house's glass hallways! To see all the world without them seeing him! "Tell me, Monroe, what poisons are you familiar with and their uses? Let us go over what you know thus far so we may expand upon it, then introduce others., as we walk towards the collection of the same." While it was not evident in the outward (given she had frozen the boy to his chair,after all), St. Laurence was fond of Monroe. Always had been. He was gruff and uncouth when he shouldn't be, but he reminded her of the masters who kept him now. He was all of Sorschal and herself in the body of one being, and more than that? He needed to know that his mind, fractured as it appeared, could be mended. That the boy in him that was lost was a part of the man he'd become. Both could be found and come home.

He would be one of the two she deemed her true successors; to learn the inner workings of the arts, to turn the wheel when her time came to die, to go places she could not anymore even as she lived. The Master had no children of her own, so in this her successors would be endowed as she would have her own heirs, like she did her brother Percival. Generation to generation was everything in these halls.

[Julian Luke Monroe]

“I am excited. I’m ready. I’m honored really.” Julian spoke as he looked at his feet to place them on the right spot and to remember the very stone she struck. It had seemed like years since the last time he felt as though his heart had been so ready to burst. This boy knew many things, some he learned from his Master; others he figured on his own. There was hardly any room for error when so much was thrown his way, but how could it have been so carelessly abandoned by a single thought? Over the course of the next few weeks Julian would train and study along side her until he felt himself expanding further then ever he felt possible.

“As far as poisons,” He continued, “I have learned of many within Spain from The Lady Margot. If you have not met her, perhaps make time to do so?” He thought of Margot with a small smile one that was so very foreign on his face, but it was one day in particular that held Julian a bit on edge where she was concerned.

The rain had not stopped it seemed this autumn day, where the leaves still clung to their green if only for the inside. They were ready to die, within the next few weeks theirs would explode of color bursting from branch to branch, but for now all they could do was live in the moment of last green. He sat across from Claramae while they were lost in their books, and he helped her sort through what lesson would be next—watching her very carefully as she mixed her pleasures with her work, and wondered if her pleasures were even different? She was great at this. He had formed a bond with her, that he had not known exist inside him, and perhaps she didn’t not feel the same..he couldn’t care. He was thankful for her, and in his moment of pause he came to the conclusion there was so much still he could learn. However, today the rains made him think of what life would be like without the raw nature of his emotions. Rising from the desk he made his way to the window to watch the world beneath if only for a moment to gather the words that formed on his lips like the pool of water beneath their window. There the heavens fell telling stories of the child of the highlands who wore his heart beneath enough stone they could rival the Isle of Mann. He was alive, but hardly so—a soul dangling by a thread.

“Its very dismal out,” He started leaning against the cold stone while putting his hands in the front pockets to relax his nerves, but questions were welcome right? She was not like the boys school where his questions were met with answers by way of sticks to drive out demons, but his comment on the weather alone should be the first flag to go up something did not set right with Monroe. He was worried of Janice, though she loved the rain he wanted to be home with her, “How did you know it was love you felt for your husband, and not simply primal need?” Looking back to Claramae then the color of his eyes turned cold, but not of hatred or possession; simply the lack of emotion in his voice. Shouldn’t it be the first meaning of his intent? He truly was a lost soul wasn’t he?

As he tried to figure it out he touched the sparrow around his neck putting the small silver charm in the palm of his hand where he could feel the cool material warm. Claramae had one now, her crane, they had given it to her on their return. Janice had one didn’t she? Around her neck too over her heart? Funny.

Julian would shake his head realizing he had stepped out of himself, and quickly pulled back together waving his hands, "I'm sorry. I'm weak when it rains." He spoke quietly leaning back against the stone, "I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

The boy held so much promise that to look at him she saw portions of light shining on him as it does on a new coin. Fractured aura didn't escape notice as she knew some part of him ached in a maudlin mind but he wasn't beyond reach. He was rewarded with the full breadth of the master's smile thus proving a heart beat inside the marble case. Lesson dissolved from strict, harsh hand to comeraderie in the hall of glass. Leaving the reflections of other futures to the the corresponding bodies she told him whilst hand was held, "I have decided Julian to speak with your master so he will know that in a few weeks time I wish to confer upon you the title of Journeyman, one who may function of his own devices in assignments. You have proven in Spain you are more than capable, and the training shall only solidify that prospect. We shall train still, over weeks, months, even unto our years together. I think that in time you shall be one of the finest masters 'ere produced of my own Masters techniques, and of our halls history as it goes onward." He reminded her of herself and Sorschal. He was the same young man who had come to a rigid young woman that brought him out of the darkness, and in turn he made sure that she remembered to live. Vittergaust didn't listen to her in regards to Gottschalk, that he was truly malevolent and for this he, along with many others, had died. She couldn't disqualify her brother's fears in regards to Julian. He was the man's son, yet, she had known a troubled soul once. She had given it an anchor as Vittergaust had given her the same. True genius in the world of shadows could be unto a cancer she was told. Easily wrought, easily spread, fatal.

This wouldn't be Julian's fate. He had the same signs of promise, the same ability to execute while merely reaching out for want to please his master."Lady Margot? Ah, the mysterious woman of your letters. I shall be glad to meet her after what was provided for you through her. You realize your master's intentions in regards to this woman no? I am certain you do." If the woman knew the secrets while having her own to offer one couldn't claim it to be a disadvantaged match. He seemed to pause in recollection of the woman, so perhaps Jean-Claude was right. At times they would be stone, at others, like this. Once inside the room where drams were housed in the household's collection death's fairy tales were created under two pairs of hands. Over volumes they poured themselves through pages, funneling equations. She taught him the mixtures for a few of the more potent dreams while showing them how to code the mixtures in mathematics so the common couldn't decipher them. The coding was of particular importance. "We rely on intense cyphers to hide many things so I improved upon a mathematical variation and the systematic alteration of environment. This is why we can hide traps in view, and none ever see them, suspect them, or evidence remain afterward. Sorschal expanded upon that principle with his studies in illusion work. We can each do one another's work, you see, but one always has their specialties. Mine is mathematical and scientific. I think yours is too." Rain fell to color the world a thick, deepening gray. Almost near black with the promise of a heavy storm.

Questions were welcome. What ever he'd ask she'd answer in an honest turn. The weather was an unexpected topic often used when one was trying to broach another. "It will be a particularly wet Autumn, I think, and a windy one with promise of what chill will come with Winter. What I would not give for the Meditteranean at such a time." Nothing was harsh along the sea fronts. Scotland was a land of extremes. If it rained it did so as if the sky were a font. If it was gray, the gray was too thick. If the sun shone, the spring came early and it tempted you for weeks at a time in to believing that God would change the world. He subsided as he predicted in to a question, but it was a personal one. It made her look up from her book.

"You aren't weak, you're introspective. You are considering many aspects of your future I see. It is not so unusual for a man of twenty with what fortune bequeaths you, your work will be rewarded much earlier than your comerades. It may lead to the natural desire to share it with another or consider companionship." Flat answer first before it came to what he was vying for, "I have been in the acquaitance of my husband for several years, it is within the last seven our relation became more. There once was a seperatist kingdom among the Northern Scottish Islands. He was within employ there among the soldiers and I served as I did now for the Queen. They sought what the Aberdeenians have sought but did not have the same support or clout. At any rate Michael Vincere was a soldier to all extent with his war but he was also a cultured man. We began to share poetry, play games of chess. He courted me to some fashion before he was stricken with an injury that didn't allow him to remember me. I left the land not long after that, and went beyond him for several years. I was in the Germanic states just beyond Cologne, finishing the affairs of a particular baron on behalf of an allied prince whereon after I would retire. I was summoned for assistance by King Apollius of Avaria, and Michael was sent to fetch me. Needless to say the affair was finished in quite a mess. He's a brute." she sighed in horror again to remember it but the odd thing was on the end she laughed "Avarians are so prone to violence, such is the way of their Talons in which both Michael and I were militantly trained. At any rate..he didn't remember me then yet..something in him did. He kept looking at me, when we were in a carriage moving to a safe place to embark on the River Rhine, he grew bold. I decided to remain aloof, naturally, for what was lost can't be reclaimed and I detest theatrics," as everyone knew ,"But when he kissed me, he found the weakness in my heart that was for him. We have not been parted since. Our relationship was reformd around what he knew now, and we engaged in many campaigns on behalf of the King. At times he was my long arm, my protection. At others it was no affair for the marble floor. Few appreciate that art, he is no appreciator of it either, but of the intellect, oh yes, the tactical skill of near military precision to glide through the world of court? He never ceased to be interested in its barer, in me. I appreciated him for all his skills but it was beyond our times that he made me laugh. He held me as I cried, and if death came to close..I knew that I could not without him be. When Gottschalk took hold of him for six months, my heart lived beyond my body. I knew that I loved Michael when he came to me again...and I knew that I would follow. I knew that I had loved him for years, but did not put stock in such a thing. We are complicated individuals, Julian. To put it bluntly we go in the name of Kingdom and in the name of God where no true being of any common mind would dare venture. I dare even say sanity. We are enhanced, we are chosen. It makes for a very lonely world. Yet my Master told me that some are created to understand, for all have their halves. When I was your age, I was of no disposition to marry. My master wished it so, I think he felt...uncertain..of a woman with such a way. When we were in Italy I would have gladly married, he was a relative of our Barone de Favino..for he accepted my oddity as I accepted his beauty, but he was killed for my proximity to him during the days of the Gottschalk time in Venice. " The time of her own great captivity, a time that now was whispered to have seperated Sorschal and St. Laurence for years." It damaged me for years to the very idea. Yet we are human. Even beyond these extremes everyone experiences joy or loss, victory or defeat. "

She looked at the wedding band on her left hand, "I love Michael as I can not love another man, the only man who would come to even one fraction of this is Sorschal, but ours is a love that is all things at once. With Michael, I am still precious. His wife. We have held one another together when none would know of our love for Talion would have forbidden it, seeing a distraction. When Avaria fell and we came here, after all we'd been through, we finally wed. I am proud to wear his name. I knew I loved him and would have fought it but he was stronger than me in belief despite how sometimes he could not fathom why this world was so. Love will altar you my young friend. It is a force that reminds us we are mortals where we could be immortals, and that we are not God, and that God watches us." She watched him finger the weight of the sparrow. Her own crane was worn today on a ribbon akin to a choker, yet the crane had no twin. The sparrow did.

"She cherishes the bird," she mentioned in an idle way, the way that spoke of knowing without blatant force, "she has worn it everyday since I've seen her, I imagine longer. I can not dictate to you how to conduct your mind or heart in such a manner, but I can say this. If you look on her and understand the nature of her world as she does yours, can live in it, and your heart knows no other match than do not keep my folly." Unknowing that he had already made his mark on the same. "So many years of this," she looked up at the world around them, "Not one year of service regretted but there was so many years where I didn't wish to acknowledge my humanity to a soul. Michael started it, than Sorschal, and it ached to be so exposed. Then your Masters, the others come, and we have more to live for. There is more to live for. My masters greatest lesson and I forgot it. It is what I teach you now. Yes by all means perfect your public face. Not everyone in the world is privy to you for that is a guarded privlege. But if you are inclined to, with those you believe keep you best? Do so. Life is too precious. We know this better than any for God deemed we should take that who have neither honor, care, validity, purpose, or couth."

It was more than he perhaps expected but everything he might ever want to start to hear. Someone invested in him as Jean-Claude had, someone trusted him. Claramae was determined to see the boy through this to the end, whatever it was. " I speculated on the idea over the years but pondered at your acrimony towards one another. Yet, it is not so uncommon. All I ask is that you have a care with your fellow successor. You are each one half to a greater whole. A different pair of hands, a different mind for each different tasks. Such a future before you. Studies, matches. Ah to be twenty. Should you think to ask after, twenty was fifteen years ago for me, nearly sixteen." She looked perhaps six or seven years his elder, nothing more.

[Julian Luke Monroe]

There wasn’t as much turmoil in him when he spoke this time, feeling at ease there among the living even in the rain. He wanted to shout it at her, to yell it at the top of his lungs they both were so sick of hiding. Instead, Julian faced Claramae now his thumbs brushing together before him as he spoke out in a quiet yet determined voice, “I love her.”

His truth would only go that far, for how could he commit to it all without wanting of the other so badly it hurt? The marriage was not official, but he had a mind to go this very afternoon and turn in the paper. She waited on him, who waited on the blessing from the Masters. “I am not sure when..or how..or even if this is what I’m supposed to feel. I get this..this..” He struggled to pull the right words, his tone cold and flat, “It..well It starts here.” Motioning to his chest, and followed the line of ribs to his arms, “And they ache to not let her go, and then all I can see is light.” Closing his eyes Julian lived in that warm soft white light, “Before all I could see was fire, even in Spain my dreams were plagued with it, but they didn’t stop there.”

Julian took a seat amazed that he was opening up to her, but in truth he knew now she was the only who would understand, “At night the laughter starts the moment I close my eyes.” Typical boy thinking the world thought him funny, but in truth it was a sinister laugh that kept him in purgatory between wakefulness and rest, “She always seems to know when.” Even in her sleep Janice protected him with a small little touch of his chest, or an arm draped over his midsection. Never did he wake with the nightmares, but silently suffered them—accepting them as if he deserved them. However, it was not dreams. They were not dreams that he could wake from, but reality that only came out when he was most venerable. “I’m not crazy..” But I need help. “I love her.”

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

She shook her head at him, grinning as he came nearer. Without a single inflection in his tone he spoke of the physical symptoms of his emotion as if he were a physician, to which she replied, "It has that effect, the body will manifest the signs of what is unknown or even repressed. If we went based on such alone we'd all think ourselves hypocondriacs. But, there is an undeniable mentality that accompanies it, more than mere yearning which when fufilled will not slacken. It is a constant presence, a thought. A word will invoke it. A care for what they may care for, their comforts, their future in yours beyond all notion as well of plain romance. For beyond that blinding haze your body will blessedly settle and as intense a thing as it is to be near them, calms you. It is the most violent and banal spectacle. A thing of opposites." Of all the people to explain love to another, it'd be the life force inside the female gargoyle.

"I know you do. I had some speculation it might come to a manifestation on your journey, at least an admittance of fondness. You would not have gifted her if you didn't love her." So simple a thing as that little bird was like a man giving his beloved a jewel. The boy would have spurned her with no problem otherwise. He then began to talk of the effect Janice had on a situation that was indeed a mixture of the spiritual and mental wounds within Julian, his mind. She listened with a startling ability, going quiet again with a flat expression as she absorbed all he said. She could switch so easily between it was as if she disappeared. Her eyes remained apparent though, focused, concerned. She was merely processing as if in times of thought her inhumane quirk emerged. God, she thought ten thoughts where most formed two by fortune.

"As we study some things, let us study the nature of dreams. The field of the mind is one philosophers and theologians have taken to with zeal as much as any physician. I always told your master that I believd your mind heavily haunted, scarred by something you may not even realized. Often these things manifest a worldly healing by the start of some anchoring. A chosen goal or a partner. Our minds being a duality it makes sense our choices are equally dual. We see the light in our significants because of our darkness. What we will see is the meaning of such darkness in you, and how to filter it with the duality of your own light. That is to say what plagues you balanced with the duality of what will mend you. It will be as much a journey as anything else." Would she stop the training, turn him away? Nothing could ever be attained by the mad. Percival was a lunatic, some said. She blamed herself but had come to realize not every technique of hers rested in his head but it was trying to become too much to too many that had done it. He allowed himself to become the dark to set others free, but had no anchor to stay his true self or a way to find home. Once he too was a young man whom only desired to rise. Percival and she had done things with one another on campaigns, to one another, that should never be done to family only they were kept ignorant for years of that affiliation. To this day Percival still refused all human comforts except the closeness of his sister or the begrudging respect of a rival. He saved his rantings for militant battle, which despite the 'mess' he claimed was not of their art, it had fast become his release. In England she became afraid without Mosby as a second he would have entered the point of no return, or that he would have died in his sorrow.

Sorschal controlled his own darkness and filtered what genius was in it to other tasks. None of them were without the darkness because in order to persue one had to understand the source. It was a razor blade edge they walked, and you either succeeded at it or were off-balance until someone pushed you off. Claramae intended to hold both of his hands and have him follow with her until he could walk on his own again. This boy had some demon inside of him, some thing waiting to make an allegory of him. It may have once only been the ache of his childhood; hunger, ridicule, and the second people can inspire so so well with how they seek to understand nothing. It gave the demon something to feed on and thus it made the malady of now. Listening to his speech he may have revealed more than intended - a laughter in the night that Janice knew when it began which suggested that they had been together, at some point. She was not puritanical enough to think that for all the purity in Viscreed a love that was real and honest, one that was challening, wouldn't draw her. They were both still so young. Old for the expectations of the age yes but how much they'd sheltered each of them. Jean-Claude - why had he thrown the boy to the venture if he didn't fully trust him? Somewhere he lived in constant panic but let God guide the choice. Her brother wanted this boy directed, given hope, and saved. Julian was asking for her help.

"You love her, and I believe you truthful, I have no objections. You are as fitting for her as she is for you. The remainder of the open world would treat her a thing, a prize because of her face or supress her mind." He could care for Janice well, just as he would be charming in the court with time, gracious, and learn to call Inveryne by his name. Honestly she had no qualms with the boy if he fancied himself a serpent of sorts so long as he learned to bite at the right heels and when. He could be cold as the north as he pleased. As she'd said the difference was for private, for now. "If you should ever wish me to think of a medicine to quiet your mind at night so you can sleep fully, you have but to ask. It can be modified for various levels of cognative being so you could still react to her should you wish to speak or if something goes amiss. You look so tired, dear boy. You are too young for that, it is not something either your master nor myself would want for you." She was not going to ask where, or when, or how. She would not embarrass him. On the other matter she knew what it was to be red-rimmed down to black in your eyes. "I have concealed mine beneath a puddy of sorts that calms the inflamation or too much tiredness will make your eyes burn.She should have ample of it, very light substance, blends well then settles. "We will figure it. Let me ponder the matter now a little. Take you up that book there, and pass me the other. Somehow I feel we are quite alike in how numbers relate to music so we shall read on the theory and then decodify another poison recipe. As I do I will think on you some more." She was able to do that, fracture her mind in to other pieces than join it back together. It took skill to pull apart your fall apart. A skill she wished to teach him so that his delerium, visions, and pain could become one of his interior weapons and enhance a lethal sense of calm.

As the books were passed she gently patted his hand. Her touch was luke-warm, if only for the fact that in recovery the blood moved slower. She focused far more intention on her back and legs than in herhands, but they had enough.

[Julian Luke Monroe]

They aren’t dreams, Claramae. He wanted to tell her, to shout it at the top of lungs that there was something wrong with him. He could feel it deep in his bones that there was another being inside him chanting old Hebrew words at him. It was the damned, he was certain if he thought such things were real, but perhaps she was right. It was only dreams. He slept at night, or so he felt. Yet in truth he was simply moving from one place to another, his body was sleeping while his mind left his body. Julian was not willing to admit it.

He just got Claramae’s blessing, and that thought came to pass over his face as he took the book she offered. With this—he smiled. It was a truly strange sight, but one that was not bad now was it? His hand passed over the book as he thought of Janice, but as he settled in to read the grin passed.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

She would deduce the scientific before the metaphysical because the boy was a professed atheist. In their shared counsel would come exploration toward the Church for secular reasons of course; civic observances, a place to see and be seen, garnering secrets, but for more than that the pure purpose of the gathering place of Christ followers waited to be another question he had yet to ask. Did she believe or was the jeweled cross she wore a part of a costume? Did she pray, follow the faith, and attend service for the sake of show? The answer to that was no. When choice was hers the woman never took work on the Sabbath day. She made regular confessions, gave alms, and participated in faith cycles, holidays, and pondered the mysteries.

The smile he returned was by no means a bad thing. If anything the pair of them smiling at the same time could be a sign of imminent disaster! Falling to silence she began to read her book while a part of her fathomed the dilemma at hand: How to save him and not let him be lost to the darkness.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Sons and Daughters, Brothers and Sisters
it could tear them apart

Master Laurence and Master Voltaire


"This one? You should see he is sent to France. He has impeccable French. This one, Italia, state? No he is still not seasoned enough for the agenda of deCervillion so we will simply place him in Rome, with his sister. Let them become more cultured, perfect their dancing, be recieved well. I do think they will be a potent combination so that we will never have to worry about that little assistant to the ambassador again no?" With writing in her hand she decided fates as though weaving strings together was easy. Fingertips skipped on the edges of the parchment pages. Calculations were made with one body to one personality against a contrasting personality with a similiar body, or a slightly differing one to change the ratio of possiblity in court presentation aesthetic or direct work. "I have the perfect set for the lady deCervillion to look over before we send them, so we they are schooled in whom best to meld with. Journeymen of rank from the Roses, Voltaire. Mmm yes. Seasoned, very seasoned. We must pluck from our garden for such affairs and vast it is." If one Fate snipped a chord she held it up again as if to say her will was higher than those of the God. The old man with yellow cat eye peered with one to the Madame's perfect two. Both of them wore the proof positive of pain on their bodies, but both moved with exquisite, feline grace. It had been natural for years, yet when he met her it was something he honed. A woman, he believed, had a natural advantage in this over a man, and a woman, he said, had to be made harder in order to survive. "All wise, they will flourish, and the ties will align us with the continent again, bring us expanded possiblity. Scotland only has so many and it needs to retain itself." "Yes, yes, Voltaire I agree.


"Maxamilion," he corrected. She looked at him with a nod as they walked the halls under stained glass dome. To the outside world it looked like nothing but stone. "Maxamillion. How is Monroe in his lessons with you? The old gentleman helped her up a pair of stairs as the marble was graduating to the second set of courtyards, below the main first. The sort that made him remember what Venice was. "Well. He is nimble. Claudio hasn't as much advantage over him as it appears. His mind focuses in better than Claudio's but it stays..too focused." "Bloodletting" "Yes. It is a sign of youth though, I believe it can be overcome, be contained. You relieved Sorschal of his. I helped to contain yours. But he is..lethal with a rapier. The aim with the crossbow, too" Claramae was very pleased. "Now, how find you his mind?" Voltaire remembered the question from when someone onced asked it of the woman standing next to him. "His mind must be as ravaged as his eyes. The boy is tired. You do not push him hard, it seems he pushes himself harder. I confess, I worry for him, and La Bella. It is no mystery now if it ever was supposed to be. He has caused a certain amount of envy with the others Beneath the statue of the arch angel she paused. Envy. She had not taken any of them but one who was kept so far outside as to have not been in, so to speak. That, and his proximity to Janice caused no lack of debate. "They will be envious, let them, it will make them learn faster for the honor of being selected of another master With us now well connected again we shall have our pick of any to see to any that we have ever believed worthy.but Julian Monroe is my elected and will so remain. He is special, distinct, Maxamillion. I have noticed that together him and Viscreed might be something special. True it will challenge them with how things are now but I can not deny that each is good for the other in terms of arts and in terms of being.

A partnership is two halves. They each are two halves of one whole. Two parts of a body. Janice could easily be his equal in every way and he hers. What she doesn't do he will, and such is the opposite. One going close as the other retreats. Astonishing, really." "You will not train La Bella, you have said that.." "No, not like him. She will be trained the way she has been trained. She is the perfect courier, the perfect informant. The fact she can poison with prestige is enough that the remainder can be defensive. Besides, she needs no more given to her than what already settles between her ears. I've told you what she has done with the masterwork it is...baffling to think, but that is her place.Being our history. Being..our resource. Simply being a living...book. It is what she chose, and it is a fitting distinction for her. A living historian." (d)


Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine


In the silence of the guarded truth Jean-Claude walked in behind the Master with his heart there upon his shoulder listening to them converse of a subject that had caused him great pain, and much misfortune. He in truth was a selfish man for denying the world to Julian, while giving it all to Janice. They were a perfect pair, and perhaps he too felt envy run through him in course of the day that his beloved Angel had told him of her heart. In secret he had watched the pair from windows frosted by the morning chill, and a helpless ache inside his chest. For many days he had gone over the idea round and round with watchful resources of the right and wrong. How could he have missed it? What had made him so blind? It was the thought of Julian's mind, and the theory that there had been enough force backing the young Monroe how could he ever turn. "But tell me this.." He broke of his place behind them, the gentleman no doubt to cause the bones of many to ache with the very fear he struck upon first impression. It was when his persona was so well put together did he seem fearless, or the strands of his jet black hair fell in perfect straight lines around his face. "How far have you gone." It was the seed of doubt that turned the tide in the French Lord's battle upon the sea of envy."How deep Master Laurence have you tread inside my once apprentice's mind?" Janice and Julian were very much something special together, and by now it was hardly a secret for Viscreed often left with Julian did. Julian often came in with Viscreed in the mornings. This face that was there before them now was pale, as pale is it had once been, but now long with worry and heartache. He would greet them all with a kiss to either side, of male or female it would not matter--for he was French after all, but even Voltaire noticed the despair in the Master Aquitaine. "Your boy kept him on his toes this morning, you must be very proud." He spoke of Claudio (partial to his name) with a warm smile. Had he been watching? Always. Jean-Claude could see many things from his tower in the sky. (d



Master Laurence and Master Voltaire

She did not turn or feign suprise to find the Frenchmen standing as if he were an omnious blackbird on the bust above a chamber door. Sanguine velvet whispered hush to counter the deafening silence of unspoken doubt as the Gate-Keeper turned to discuss the matter with the Tower-Watcher. What could he have missed, what made him blind? Love. A force more powerful than any chemical ever compounded. Fingers hid in the open end of long sleeves. "As far as observation has taken me and as far as his own confessions to me. We will go deeper still, as we look upon what is in his mind in symbolic form, deciphering it, piecing it together from the pieces we take apart, much as one does with an analytical mind. As he does with the pieces of anything close to what Sorschal designed. Or as he tries to fathom how you animate the stars in your tower. Good morning." Each took the affection while recieving it. Frenchmen in despair were still French. Antique greeting habits were merely custom between them. Voltaire looked on him as he looked on Monroe. He was wearing himself at a distance while Julian did so before their eyes. That was the only difference. The mixed Italian found great pride in the mention of Claudio "Quite. I am glad his mother saw to the customs of a gentleman's education for him as we discussed. Your Monroe as I told the Madame is not far from overpowering Claudio completely. He has your hand, I see. Your style. The young man is a fraction quicker than my son, actually. Claudio merely has better arm extension, this too will change. He is more determined to please than Claudio, and he never struck me as a humble man." Claramae nodded, looking over deAqutiaine with concern, "He has truly become your son. Zealous minded, curious, and you both have the same nocturnal habits and worry signs. It isn't good for anyone, Jean-Claude. Not a twenty and certainly not at your age." "We spend a great deal more time talking than you would think as one learns a great deal in this as in any formal lesson, and in such bond it will enable him to find an inner quiet. He will need that, if he is ever going to call Inveryne, Inveryne." He would. She believed it. He would call her Inveryne just as he wouldn't need another to help him stand in court as a courtier, it would only be a luxury. "But beyond that. He progresses very well but I am doing nothing to overburden his mind nor am setting a zenith of unreachable stars. Voltaire is quite right. Despite his sarcasm he is prone to be quite willing to please. He is worried though, as any would be in his state. It is why I will not press him beyond sense and instead focus more of our work on him, so that he may improve of the mind No one needs a disenfranchised spirit or a broken mind." Was it so obvious? The Englishwoman was actually fond of Julian, immensly. "Otherwise he will grow worse physically than he already is, and I can only imagine Janice's ability to assist him before she begins to show signs of wear herself. She already has some.She has always been an anxious being." (d)


Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine


"Not this anxious, Claramae. They live together are you aware of this?" Loyal even now to Janice as he was certain she would not wish for Claramae to hear this way. Jean-Claude needed her to admit what she knew, he needed it like the air they shared, and to be able to open to her. It bothered him deeply, but somewhere he was as giddy as school boy. However, alarming dark eyes turned upon Voltaire as he shook his head, "He does not understand control, there is a great deal in him eager to learn, but it is to push himself. Even as a small boy he would stay up all hours for desire to be finished. One day he will best your boy, because he will not give up until he does. It is with this I worry. Jean-Claude would shake his head as he brushed his hand along Voltaire's shoulder, "Do not take this as my French Pride either." He could hear his wife now scolding him for it in her barbaric tongue. "I know my son, and I give you this with only the best faith in Young Claudio, but let it be known now Julian would not stop. He hasn't the control, not yet." Hearing the name Inveryne gave his heart out with the ache of true passionate desire. He loved that woman with all his being, and in just her name it could bring him to his knees."He will make this Order very proud, but how is it that he could be so beneath his will to learn. I am simply careful, because.." He couldn't bring himself to say it, "I have watched him for many years, but Spain...Spain did something to him." It was the truth, Julian did push himself on limits that he lost control of himself, and sometimes Jean-Claude would find him in the hall at dawn simply standing there asleep in the door way. (d

Master Laurence and Master Voltaire


"True, but she was never his significant other before. Yes, I am aware." She would reveal the admission with gentility without revealing how it was told. Just like he remained loyal to Janice, she believed that Julian would wish to tell Jean-Claude in his own time so much of what the elders figured by sheer deduction. She had nothing but pleasure where it could be assumed she'd have displeasure. She hadn't the Austrian with a passion, let it be made plain. It took every aspect of her being not to unleash the traps on him when he entered or to kill him when he spoke. Julian on the other hand despite his ability to be as pleasent as a boar at intervals had long ago won her respect for having such infinite possibility. He was jaded by life's hardships. Marius was simply stupid. deAquitaine's son was as precious to her as Janice had become more like a daughter than a younger sister. Voltaire listened, "No, you are right. He does not undestand control, but he can be taught to have it. I imagine that Spain was very taxing. Have you ever had a full discussion with him on the subject? It is something I have meant to do, yet such experiences can be very personal. It must be broached well." Claramae put a finger to her chin, nodding "That is a reasonable ascertation to make. It unlocked his potential but these things can be very scarring based on what is scene or thought. From what Janice has told me , no, from what I bid her tell me as she wished none to worry they were under a great deal of tribulation. There were..esoteric workings, paganism disguised as christian myth. Men out for blood sacrifice. If the Templars knew what was there i believe they would have never even sent the priest to see if it could be haulted before he disappeared. Janice told me DeVareux had all but lost his mind at times.As for Julian, he unlocked the formula for Greek Fire itself.The way he speaks of what is in his head, it is like what he saw provoked something that was already there, as if it woke it up. He doesn't sleep. It is why I gave him something to help. It is around a chamomile base potent yet not enough to be habit forming. I didn't wish to induce that, he is too young." For all this pondering over him she had to ask "Have you spoken with him yet? Janice all but tears at the mention of your name I am told, so this stands to reason finding out of them must have shocked you considerably. The boy adores me but you are his father, Jean-Claude. As close as to one as he shall ever have again. A young man needs guidance on all matters, and he is in pain. Just as Janice may love you, but the only reason she is not being as forthright with me as she usually is, she is afraid I will come to judge him. I couldn't. What right beyond his care and person have we to judge any of them.we are just better at remaining lucid." None of them were possessed of common sanity at all. Gently she put a hand on his shoulder "You and I both know we can not sever them, they are living together.We can not lose either of them, nor will I watch my brother lose his son. You would have twenty hundred words if I ever ceased speaking with Janice." (d)

Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine


"I would have twenty hundred and one, but that is beside the point." The words were about to get a bit more heated and the rest in the halls would fall away as there was nothing like the pair of them when the world fell down. "You would turn away every man in this country for her if it would please her. They love each other, and I'm not certain what is worse, that they hid it from me or looking back and seeing how blind I was." He laughed lightly, "They hated each other, but I forget that just because I did not feel that way does not mean he did at that age. It really is rather charming looking back, the one dinner that we all had here, and he pulled her chair out for her. I though Janice was going to hit the floor."In the fondness of the moment, he smiled thinking of the Angel, but the image of her now caught him. "Those who went to the festival said she was drinking.." Gasp! "That old country ale," GASP!!! "That the next morning her face was red where her scar.." Jean-Claude felt his heart give out, touching his chest, "Julian does not mean to. I know he does not, but it must stop. I can not bring myself to even look at him without getting so..so.." He was about to start crying then, "I want him happy. I could honestly not think of a better match for her, but he'll kill her. He's already started. You must see this. Her worry..her hair..Mon Ange..will be nothing left." She had to see this. "I wish you could have known him before..Claramae." He sighed, "I need to talk to him. I need to take him home for a little while, let him remember." He shook his head, "He just can't..hurt Janice. Of all on this Isle. I can not stand to watch her suffer." (d

Master Laurence


"There is no man in this country near her age besides Monroe that is worthy of her. I would be as nails with any other man whom touched her after that despicable Austrian," which was why, alas, she could consider no other Austrian, let alone Germanic being for all her love of the states with even an ancient credential. No one would ever be worthy enough, and though she'd trust Jean-Claude to find a prince little lower than an archangel to love her it couldn't be better than a choice made herself. Voltaire left them alone, and Claramae led Jean Claude to sit on the edge of a fountain. She listened to him unravel. She held his pieces, trying to keep them together. Yet one thing disturbed her: how hard was he watching them, having them followed? "Jean-Claude I do not want to see Janice hurt, but in the same way I can not see that boy continue to ache either. I have made him a promise and if it is not kept, what then? You will spiral him further over whatever edge he lingers near. It is not about him as a successor, it is about him as my son now, as Janice is your daughter now, for better or worse. Is it not time that we approached this as a family? So many times we endevor to do things alone yet they are not projects. You can follow them all you desire but your words will always have more weight. More presence. It is that they need. He needs your presence and your words to help remind him.I do not deny taking him home would not be a terrible idea, but it is a choice you have to pose him, not a demand. We can't demand of them anymore.They aren't children. You do not wish Janice hurt? How aggrieved would she be if he weren't there, and of him? He told me that she always seems to know when his visions begin or when he is in pain. That is a connection I never thought they'd have, and it speaks of a very deep love.More so than that, I'm afraid it is a risk that she wishes to take. Have you seen them when they look at one another, truly look? Tell me you do not look at your Adelaide in such a way, or me my Michael. Tell me that when we've left them with no choice or offered them none, it has not damaged them. " She stood up "I can not see you this way Jean-Claude, you are as sick as he is now, from the worry. Do you know she has even asked the priest, Brother O'Corrain, to look on him as he is also a rather skilled man of medicine as well as faith? He needs you. He needs us together. That is the first great thing we could give them Jean-Claude. The world will harm them enough to know. In the state you are in, you both could move one another to shreds." She paced a few steps before turning to look at him, "You know him, you have years of knowing him, I have the advantage of a small lack of bias where that is concerned but you will fill in for me what his stories may lack. I do not deny a part of me fears for them, them both. Not just Janice, the pair of them. Janice -- Jean-Claude, she has always been lost, I have never seen her so focused on anything , let alone another being.That does frighten me, but we can not do to them what was done to us. Not when we know they each stand a chance. Think upon what you will but at least speak with the boy first..on this, on all of this.Of all else? He first wants to love his father, and he wants you to acknowledge him. I can not imagine the pain he must endure with you thinking him damned. he hints at it. I don't think he his damned. I think he is broken, and he'll be broken beyond our reach without you. Without her, too. And we'll lose her if he is lost. Do not think this does not frighten me either. For it does. He doesn't mean to frustrate her. It isn't the first time she has been so overwhelmed, though. Truly it isn't. You are speaking of a girl who witnessed...the true meaning of hell.Gah it is ..complex. Yet I believe one without the other long at a time like this..they'd....break. If anything they need our help being recognized as well as being pieced together. (d)


Master Jean-Claude deAquitaine


"I have not meant to be so distant with him. I have simply been busy, and in turn so has he. I watch him now, and I know he is in great hands. For this I am thankful." He took the hands of the other and kissed them gently as she stood before him, but let her go to her pace. "No..Claramae, Janice is a mess. She is falling apart. You know as well as I do that no matter what happens to her she will forever hold love above all of that, but I feel that this will be her undoing. He will destroy her, and not even know. She loves that boy. She loves him more then I think she has ever loved any. The Austrian was only because it was the first, but Julian..she dotes on him. She cooks him breakfast. They are living in sin, and though I am not the prime result of that, I fear for her image. Perhaps we should coax them to marry." He was hell bent on it. "I want you to look into him. Look into him as I do. Touch his hand. Tough his face. He is alive, but there is something more." He stood to follow her, "It has always been there. I thought that I could drive it out with putting him in church, but they beat him. I should have let them. I protect him too easy. If not just for the sake of manners that you don't speak out against your elders. "I love them both. Sometimes I feel too much as she's not that 16 little girl becoming a woman." He smiled thinking of the pair of them, "He cherishes the ground she walks on, and I can not help but laugh..do you know how many times he rolled his eyes at her as a boy. How badly he would see her coming up the walk and would mutter under his breath. He hated it when she came over." Which was often. "I just can't let him kill her like he's killing me. I'm too old for this." Spoke a man who had a subjects blood under his nails. "Janice is a mess. She is falling apart. She's not sleeping, she's not eating, and she's drinking." He put his hands behind his back as his chest ached while the old crow of a man started to ponder, "He doesn't mean to frustrate her. He doesn't mean to do half of what he does Claramae. That is what frightens me. What if?" He couldn't say it, but just thinking of the Brother let his heart lift with ease. It was going to be a long road home, but Jean-Claude suddenly ached for Julian. "I should find him. Take him to dinner tonight. I do miss those very much." (d

Master Laurence

"The worry could even be because they are living in such a way! Poor child. As pious as she is, she would challenge her God for this. Oh the Austrian was youth's folly more than love. She cooks him breakfast? You have watched them rather well haven't you?" She had a habit of remaining distant when it was one of their own unless it was necessary, and in this matter she trusted Julian implictly. "He has been given my blessing. Her image? Oh if anything it must sicken them both, she is suddenly the gem of the court in how she has handled the departure of the Austrian, now on her return they think she was on some quest to shrines or siting courts or, some such thing. I feel sorry for her, were his aunt not a guest of the Austrian Ambassador.." She'd be dead before she could breathe another minute, but alas not all things could be handled that way. "She drank beer because she was curious at it, she's never had beer. Of course it would make her drunk. The child has no constitution for liquors. Only wine, and mildly at that." Claramae looked down toward the season turned to Autumn, toward the cold creeping up on the hot house windows making frost in a place kept at eternal summer. Was that what was coming to Janice? Was Julian really the frost, his own body already suffering, frozen, he reached out for that part of him that would consume everything in its path? ""I will look at him more, and do look at him imperically, Jean-Claude you musn't speak like that..it is because the boy has been beaten that the possiblity of whatever is there..is there. It is not a matter of beatings. It requires the hand of a master, and fortunatly the Augstinian, Brother Diarmuid, I feel is that. Lest he would not be here. If he may reach the boy's mind he may reach his heart, he is already very endeared unto Janice. Look.." the woman who was thirty-and-five sat down with a back that often felt ten times older. She was ten years younger than deAquitaine but it seemed a little number. "I am worried for Janice as well, before the Auction she worried out her hair,when Sorschal was sick she worried out her hair. She is very attached, and she's lost too much in her life. So much beyond her control, so many people leaving. I will speak with her, help to steady her. Take him to supper, dote on him. That in and of itself would give him hope. If he has no hope how will he do anything? How will she? I feel responsible to him now, as if i can not let him perish for the simple fact of I have seen suffering like his before. The man he so tries to figure, Sorschal. Nor can I let him rampage. Not when he is crying out for help so.
Nor can she not have..someone or something that is as mist. She will not let any of us breathe without her, goes out of her way to help. She has come too far to die now.The world would have no color without her. " She began to figure it all the more - the state of their living, "yet I wonder.would spain embolden them so much to live as they do.." She had attributed it to age and a healthy sense of lust after such an expedition, nor had either of them married before living with another yet.. Janice trumped their piety. She'd lived as a nun. "Whatever the reason ,they are already irrevokably tied. We needn't a church to tell us that. I believe he considers her a wife already, and by common law...they are that. Perhaps a marriage within the church will quell a mind at least .Goodness. " (d)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Claramae looked at Jean-Claude with eyes that had softened remarkably in his presence as time had gone by. All the more so, to be exact, since England. It was as if the mission had opened her body, ripped it to pieces, and reassembled it with long forgotten parts that should have been in place of others. She slid her hand through his until the fingers locked together, "By whatever way they came to us, they are ours. It is our place and our duty to not only to provide for them, but to love them. It is hard to love something that much. It breaks you merely to look at it, you weep, be it in beauty or frustration at it. It is good you will go to your son. Do not take what England gave us for granted: We may never recieve a chance like this again. To live. We're alive by what means I do not know. You had all but died in my arms, as I was dying in yours. We've bled through one another. This is why we are closer now. I have a part of you, you have a part of me." Gently she tucked a strand of black hair behind a whit ear "I love you, older brother. Is that not how you treat me hmm? Take care." She kissed his temple gently. One would have never thought her capable of so much compassion. For him? For all of them?

Anything.

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Faith and Death Speaking: [/size]Conversations of Diarmuid and Claramae
[/color]

i.

Brother O'Corrain

How low was the fire in the Madame's hearth, when there came a tap tap tapping at her chamber door? While it was not a raven set to cry 'never more!,' it was an Augustinian monk in his raven-dark robes. It was a rare thing indeed, for the good friar didn't call upon the Madame often - or for trival matters. He was more inclined to speak with her in the halls... or in the libraries. Yet, he sought her out now... for what the Lady Viscreed had piqued his interest. (D)

Master Laurence

The Madame peered up from the top of text to listen to the rat-a-tat against the door. No one came to seek her out that did not open the door for being allowed to: The Voltaires, deAquitaine and his Adelaide. Rosalind if she so desired. Peregrine, Thank ye God, had not found his way to her room by any means other than the front door when she had been gravely ill some years ago. Hazel gems trailed over a sanguine clad shoulder to bid ,"Enter" so should it please the entrant who sought it. Not anyone would come simply to rap on the door of a Master. (d)


Brother O'Corrain

The latch would open, before the door opened. And in came another Master, Brother Diarmuid. There would be a moment's pause, as he turned and closed he door behind him. Making certain that the latch had caught, when the door closed. Then he would advance in to her presence, offering a half-bow to her. "Blessed eve, Madame. How fare you this day?" As he rose, he smiled. The smile showed that he was wondering if she had heard of his exploits in the market both merciful (aiding the young boy and his encounter with the dog-cart) and wrathful (seeing the purveyor of false relics arrested). There was a moment's pause, before he said, "I war with myself in coming to you, for I wonder if it breaks a vow made unto the Lady Viscreed. She has sought me ought....seeking my aide for young Master Monroe..." He looked toward the fire, then back to her, "And what she said... as made me curious..." (D)

Master Laurence

The door opened to produce a man of God to his dark mistress. She rose to greet him, lowering in curtsy before offering him one of the plush chairs within the room. Her personal apartments were large and deservingly extravagant. Many pieces had been collected over countries, years, and experiences. May were a sign of an interior wisdom combined with resolute strength. His exploits beyond the wall were not unknown to her, but that was not what he was coming to discuss today. "It must be a war you have either won or lost, for you are standing here at any rate," came the terse reply in quick exchange. "So let us come to the matter at hand. I had heard she sought you out as well. What have you come to satiate your curiosity on in the matter of my apprentice?" The brief words were not meant to offend, but to suggest either he'd lost said battle or surrendered but at any rate it was not an offensive move. Wine? (d)


Brother O'Corrain

After a few moments, he would answer only, "Avignon wine?... and, please." There was a ghost of a smile that crossed his face, as she spoke. "Even I am not sure on that regard... but I do come to speak to you on the matter of your apprentice." He took a breath, studying her knickknacks and curious. Her extravagant apartments. "The Lady Viscreed said that you..." How best to phrase it? "had begun to consider the spiritual when it came to whatever illness afflicts Master Monroe...." It was clear from his voice he was doing his best to keep from treading upon her toes. "May I ask why?" He would turn to face her, "Do you seek a cure...." Thoughtful, he clasped his hands behind his back and turned toward the fire. "...or a cause?" (D)


Master Laurence

"So should it please you. Quite desirous of French wine. How the Master deAquitaine will find your tastes pleasing. Here you are." She would pour him drink in one fine chalice made of glass tonight, a beautiful ambered glass with gold edging, and golden leaf along its base. Her extravagance was a careful as the expression of her taste. Neither too minimal nor too gaudy. It could be said though that the collection of tapestry in the entire household was enough to purchase the ransom of more than one king, and her own chambers held some of the most exquisite ones.One even from Germany, the adoration of the remains of the Three Magi in Cologne. "I have considered both for the balance of treatment, the boy was wounded by the Church in his earlier years so turning him to self seeking it will be no easy task, yet it can not be one that is forced. If you espouse biblical verse at him you will get nothing but his cyncism and a closed mind. I believe we must look at both sides yet give him rational tools a to understand what afflicts him. He is in a physical and mental pain over it." (d)


Brother O'Corrain

"Thank you," he said gently. He would take the wine, lightly turning it under his nose. "In truth... I know nothing of this wine... save that the Pope favors it." By and large, the Pope's love of it had seen wine grown in the Avignon become dubbed 'vin du Pape'. Even scent alone was enough to tell him that he was quiet high end with what his vows could afford. Quietly, he would taste it. Once more, did his eyes show the wheels and cogs of his mind begin to act. The teeth fitting one another as he tooka drink of his wine, eyes upon her. There as an arch of his eyebrow, as he said, "....I had not heard of that... May I ask how how the Church wounded him?" There was a smile, as he said, "I hold fast to the teachings of Saint Augustine of Hipp and Saint Thomas Aquinas." Both who espoused the rational human mind or soul and learning. There was a cant of his head, "And I was not aware of the phyiscal pain..." (D)

Master Laurence

"I am not on the entirity sure but can say that he was schooled within the Church as a boy and can assume this is where it begins. He seems to desparage it yet seek it on some level. I think he is only an atheist by virtue of this conflict. The physical pain? Well, Brother if you but look at him." She waved her hand about the air as if to pull down ideas from the clouds while sipping on the wine. Would it be ashamed she favored that of Bordeaux more, the one Jean-Claude gave to her often? She had only began to drink much at all later in life. "Thankfully you are more rational minded than your contemporaries, but you are still a man of God thus the boy will have an instant revultion to you. I hope your skin is not so think as to be offended. (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There was a soft smile given, as he - himself - had been educated in the Church from an early age. And yet, for that, he and Julian sought to have taken different paths. Julian had rebelled against it, while Brother Diarmuid had embraced its strictures whole heartedly. "Mm. Perhaps more shall come to light when I speak with the young master in person...." He also closed his eyes, trying to recall what he had made of Julian on their brief encounter at the Harvest Festival. There was a quiet smile, as he kept his eyes closed, "His manner does not offend me...and I shall tell you what I told young Master Monroe and the Lady Viscreed: not every failure of man is caused by a demon lurking about... sometimes a failure of man without undo interference." And yet, he did not broach the topic of the demoniac. (D)


Master Laurence

"I am pleased at your approach yet you leave room to suspect it could be more? His master has long thought this, though if it is more unto the area it is hardly enough to say he is damned more that he is deeply afflicted" She wondered at how deeply involved the girl truly was to have sought the help of the Brother. Twixt the pair of them, and with deAquitaine as a third, they might truly help the young man, no? She drank in deep. Did he rebel or did he simply cast aside? "When you speak to him alone, you mean, the young lady has already mentioned you visited them in the evening. I do pray you were gentle, and not judging? It would be nature to judge, I have never thought to find such of living in sin as to be hers but...common law justifications and witness would testify to them as man and wife " It was at least how she comforted herself on the matter. One could not be a hypocrite, yet still. It was unlike a girl who had lived in a convent, and was so pious as to pray prostrate on a floor (d)


Brother O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid would, for now, not take the opening that the Madame had given him. There was a small smile, "Betwixt you...I...and the locked door?" He chuckled softly. "The Lady Viscreed does not keep secrets very well.... I have suspected what you say is true, since our first meeting." The Lady Viscreed had put forth that she was acting on the behalf of someone she cared very deeply for. That she had referred to Julain as her love? Had made it all the more plain. "She cares greatly for him..." There was a quirk of a brow, regarding Master Monroe's rather rough and stand offish manner. There was a light shrug of his shoulders. After a moment, he would meet her gaze. ".... if my Madame allows, I shall only find that all must be considered in turn...." There was a pause, as he took a turn to drink deep his wine. "For every once in a while... those supernatural agents of infernal or divine power do play a part in our lives." And he would relate to her his story of the demoniac. (D)


Mater Laurence

He smiled like a boy who had been bursting at the seems of his habit to talk of the lead brother having a mistress beyond the friary. Debase thoughts were never uttered on the air as it would show a complete lack of regards for the seriousness of religious vows and those, like him, that successfuly kept him. "It will go no further than you, I, or the locked door in conversation though as you say," she lifted her glass of wine for the drinking again, sipping, then lowering, "It is a poorly kept secret. My fellow master worries over their living in sin, insisting we should hasten them to the cathedral for a proper ceremony unto the eyes of God, they were both raised better than mere civil obdience. At the very least for the boy it is adherence to state, noble custom that may secure his position as a courtier." Even athiests should learn to tolerate institution, what noble hadnt'? It was a story for another day. If sodomoties, sapphonists, and Jews could sit in a mass so could Monroe. He relayed his story of the wicked insuborniate agents against the divine to which she said, "Look at what you must, yet I caution science first, yet if you feel it is a matter of the other world..perhaps you should talk with his first master, his father. DeAquitaine." She looked at the fire, watching it writhe. Julian could not be there, could he? If anything the boy was in Purgatory. Neither in hell but yet removed from God's love, too. "That way you may have a complete picture. I made the young man a promise I shan't renig, yet all masters are suited to their areas." (d


Brother O'Corrain

There was a slight shrug of his shoulders, "It is but a trifle, if that..... such a small thing to worry over. I would not attach sin to happiness...." Aaah. But they were not happy, were they? That, then, was the goal of the Augustinian. To find peace and happiness for them, to give them that which they desired. He laughed softly, "Mm. I do believe it quiet the interesting view you have, on such a topic.... I would rather fill pews with believers, than see it filled by those who go only at swordpoint." The Castellians would have decried him a heretic for saying so, doubly since he was dubious about and conversion gotten at the edge of the blade. He would let time elapse after her comments of her story, as he enjoyed the way the vin du Pape played upon his tongue. "...in that, your advice is heeded. I shall seek out Master DeAuitaine - if it is as you say, that they are as father and son - and speak to him." There was a smile, "As I do with you know. In this, my mind craves data...." In truth, he could be every bit the spy master she was -- if he put his mind to it. Too often, however, he reflected on servitude to the Savior than pulling threads of power. After a while, "I know that many of my fellows seek to fill their pews with talk of damnation, Hell, and the Son of the Morning Star... and yet, I am confident that if I were to put my time to tallying both devil and the hens with teeth... I shall find more teeth in the beaks of hens than devils hiding behind trees." There was a slight shake of his head, "Every rule has an exception." He turned to watch the fire. His mind still worked. Did she see it, when she looked in his eyes? The great cogs and wheels ever turning. It would be that, when he said, "When last there was snow upon the ground and in the air, did you ever go out and stare at the sky? To watch the snowflakes fall? They are marvelous things.... so small, so perfect, so intricate. Surely, God's most beautiful work." he hesitated, "But also his most fragile."He made a cupping gesture with one hand, "Catch them upon the hand...and they are no more. ..just water..." He was quiet. "...to me, the brain parallels the snowflake. It is beautiful, fragile, and complex....it may very well break. And we shall never know why." He met her gaze, "It is too soon to say...what has brought about this change in Master Monroe. But I have given my word to cipher it out and so I shall.... and, if it is God's wish, aide Master Monroe to himself." (D)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

ii.

Brother O'Corrain

To those of a certain piety, it was not uncommon to find a chapel or private odoured in a particular scent. It would be a coy coupling, that would seem out of place to many of the lay folk. After all, the tang of blood mingling with holy incense seemed contradictory. And yet, that was in the very air of the good brother's cell at Laurence Hall. The man himself lay his stomach, prostrate before his alter. His back, indeed his whole torso, was bare. So that God and the Savior see the Augustinian's devotions writ not only in merciful works, but the flesh of his own back. While the harder devotions were evident, his back was not in ribbons or to the bone. But it was whipped, raw, and bloody. Even as he lay before the altar, Brother Diarmuid's eyes was upon the Cross. His prayer unchanging. "I pray, O Lord, for guidance..." (D)

Master Laurence

Was it not said of the most faithful that the chapel followed in toward their homes so that it could be a living institution closer to the heart where the head rested. It would be the Lady Laurence who walked the long, polished floors of the cooridor as she came away from one lined in nothing but good Oriental rugs. It had been by request that this hall come to its essence, this end of things left for the piously poor. No one could undo the ornate stonework, the marble floor, or the grandeuer of the wood in the doors. Usually a quiet place, the scent of incense was marred by the way blood crept to the nostrils. Blood. What place had that among the devotions of poor men? The contradiction of poor men living among the heart of dark opulence was never addressed; God had purpose for them in the halls of the Ebony. She felt it grow stronger as she came upon Diarmuid's chamber door. Gentle hand would wrap upon it, once, twice. It was never locked. With the scent of blood growing stronger she would feign ignorance to observing staunch manners. Could he have prepared for the woman to see him prostrate with pink sore flesh before the Christ? A man as rational as him? "Brother! What happened to you?" Unrepentant she broke his devotions apart with her shock. Was it self inflicted? "O'Corrain, what happened?" (d)

Brother O'Corrain

She would forgive him, of course, if he was not as quick as he should have been. When she at last gained her entry, she would find him just beginning to rest upon his haunches. As he took a few moment's breather, he would meet her gaze. There was a light smile, "Worry not, Madame... it is alright." If she were to help him, she would see in his hand the instrument that had so bloodied his back. Coiled in his hand, was a length of course and knotted rope... now slick with his blood. "... I did not mean to alarm you..." Quietly, he sat the coiled robe beside the Crucifix before his altar. Was the reverence of the gesture enough to let the Madame know ... that he followed the harder devotions? He would walk toward a basin of clean water, using it to wash his hands. All the while, blood seeped from the wounds upon his back. She would see, underneath the sheen of fresh blood, older scars. It seemed as though a rational mind and charitable faith, did not prevent one from being flagellant. There was a moments pause, as he looked over his shoulder to regard his back. Some part of him noted and oddness to it, for never had his wounds become infected.... Then he would raise his gaze to her own, offering a soft smile, "...what may I do for you?" (D)

Master Laurence

Claramae was worried he had gotten in to a skirmish with someone and lost, terribly. Visions of years ago when the world opened a jaw to swallow the Order whole flashed before hazel eyes in constant, consitant sparks until whole images had to be backed away. Reality present, the truth was in his hands. It was always closer than old horror - self knotted whip fresh with his blood drew her eyes to a hard narrow line. Far be it from herself to say how a man should worship but it seemed in perfect contradiction with what he stood for. Did she know him well enough to think that? She was paid to be exact on the expression of character - of anyone's character relevant to make supposistion no supposition but fact. In respect of his partial nudity she turned her back until he was attired again. "I had come to look upon you, to discuss with you current events and then smelled the blood with the incense. It was very distinct. I thought you were wounded. I see it is self expressive." (d)

Brother O'Corrain

Was it truly so contradictory? Brother Diarmuid oft worked to relieve the suffering of the poor, and sought closer ties to God and Christ the Savior through his own self-inflicted suffering. There was a quiet nod of his head, has carefully redressed himself in the habit's top. Did she wonder what he felt, with the coarse and homespun fabric rubbing now against raw and bloody flesh? There was a pause, as he wiped his hands clean on a towel. There was something in the inflection of Claramae's voice, when she spoke of his scourged back that caused him to glance at her. And then he looked back at his hands. Was that all that was required of a subtle thought? As often as she accused him of judging others, did she not do so now? Then the moment was forgotten, as he smiled and swept two her, "Please, come in.... sit. Shall I ring for some vin du Pape?" (D)

Master Laurence

Touche, touche. Unspoken as it was. Yet how does one justify the infliction of any pain. Was this one in religious context so different from what Monroe had a history of doing in order to feel? To feel alive, to feel closer to God. The shock of witness wore away as she turned back around "If it so should please you, that would be fine, " one's custom was another's confusion. "Need you any salves for your back?" Raw flesh from self punishment rose her own discomforts as deep as they were hidden. Her back had been an easle for a mad man's inscription of ancient liturgical thought, of a Jewish symbol to fathom God. (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There was a moment's hesitation, before he smiled, "I think, madame, that I shall hear what draws you to call on me... before I tend my own hurts." He would usher her before a chair, before quietly ringing for a glass of wine. In all honesty, once this business was conducted, he would call upon one of the Hall's healers.... After all, he was still of an empirical mind and knew that unattended hurts often became infected. He was prone to the fires of zealotry, not idiotic actions and thoughts. Once she was seated, and the wine arrived, he would pour two glasses of Avignon wine. "I think....it is a very grave thing for the Madame of Laurence Hall to seek it out." (D)

Master Laurence


"Why must it be grave? Even the Madame of the Hall desires her own mind steadied in spiritual matters. One attends such masters. I am not a priest or a nun, Brother." If it were prudent the woman would have cracked a smile or perhaps even a laugh. Diarmuid was not yet so priveleged. Would he be, to see the veneer come away completely? Time would be the determiner. She took up his wine while considering the reason for seeking him "Actually I had come to see how you fared after all that has taken place, to know your mind, to see if it matched of my own. Strange how the mind seeks a companion of joint thought, we are not cured of it at any age. I find myself reasonably at odds. Disturbed. Filled with concern." (d)

Brother O'Corrain

The Augustinian would hesitate for a moment, before offering a soft smile. "Quiet so," he said gently, "Quiet so." The Hall, it seemed, invited a rather macabre turn of mind in the friar. Even now, he felt it. A desire to be of the Hall... but not in it. Could it be said that such a desire was already manifest? For he was far more likely to be seen undertaking charitable works in Turas Lan, than confined to the Hall. "Then, milady, we are indeed of a joint mind... for I too am filled with concern over the young Master Monroe..." And that which he had carved into his flesh. He refused to name what he suspected. And admited still that it could be a failing of Julain's mind. (D)

Master Laurence

"It is more than that, it is the mentality which it spread. The Master deAquitaine is much agrieved, which is not good for a man of his age. The Lady Viscreed is sorely affected, yet it can not be helped in either case. One is father, one is wife. I am reminded of how we live to our own words. Of how even the strangest of us have our kin. To watch them suffer is to suffer inside of one's self." Whatever suffering entailed of an open face wasn't shown him. Did one have to whip one's back to suffer, or could a heart bleed as open as the wounds one inflicted? Before drinking the wine she swirled in the glass to release the fragrant boquet from the liquid made of grapes (d)

Brother O'Corrain

There was a quiet nod of his head, as he too swirled his drink. Although it was done more for the purpose of having something to draw his eyes too, "....I think that we move to a culmination of..." And he would shake his head. Could he really name what they moved toward? Quietly, he would take a drink of his wine. All that he had seen of the Hall, thus far, had planted a seed in his mind. For had not the Hall been in tumult before his arrival? "I know not what the future holds, for only the Lord God can perceive the future... but I shall be here for the Hall." Espically, he thought, for the Lady Viscreed and Master Julain. And any else who had need of him. (D)


Master Laurence

"A culmination of what? Of what it all means..of hoping to come across to an end? This is what I pray for, the end of it. One can only watch others being torn before they too feel as if they ought be torn with them. So in we suffer together. Maybe I should find that moving." She sipped at the drink of the papacy. Still, she favored the Bordeaux better , a distinct, unapologetic bias given her fabled brother had introduced it to her. Her brother by half, Percival, drank whites with her on occasion. With Janice and Julian she had only indulged in tea. It seemed strange to give drink to those who were like your children but they weren't. "This too shall pass. This is what I remind myself oft in prayer, and in life. We have overcome much before, yet this is another matter close to the heart. One can assail the enemies of the world yet this is not merely some thing against the realm. It is the warring mind of my brother's son. Now of my son, given he married a young woman I consider more likened to my daughter, than my younger sister." (d)


Brother O'Corrain

Unbidden, he would offer, "What ends one thing.... often begins another..." It was true. He was thoughtful, before he would meet her gaze. After a moment, he would smile, "Perhaps that is something that bears thinking up." He canted his head softly, "Thus are the bonds of family revealed?" Would he heed his own words, however? There was thought to be had, regardless. After a moment, he said, "It is this warring that I have vowed to put to rest.... a vow that I have given to the Lady Viscreed herself." There was a quiet ship, as he took another drink of wine. There would be a gaze to her, the cogs and wheels of his mind once again turning. "What can you tell of young Master Monroe? From what the Lady Viscreed has said unto me, this change in him as been gradual.... perhaps before my coming? I need to know all I can, before I can help him." (D)


Master Laurence

"My brother has kept the young man unto himself until the last pair of years, so you would better to rely on his master-father for more. I do know he was sent away to school after jean-Claude took him to health. He is a farmer's son of one of the poorest clans, Munro. His uncle is a Chieftain. I know that his master found him blue and on the verge of starvng or freezing, to which as you can see neither happened. I suspect school did not bode well with him, constantly picked upon for his differences of thought. His father tells me he has always had a wound of some sort, within the mind be it from poverty or from the time in the Church's education is not for me to say. I have always marveled at the boys analytical being, his calcuations, his mathematics, his scientific mind is most astounding. In manners he may use them if it suits him but he has a habit of being terribly abrasive. That is nothing new, if you witness his abrasiveness. I dare say his willingness to open, to seek of me question and answer, his sense of open fondness for certain people is questionably different from his standard form. We are want to grow and change." Could she be proud of what he had accomplished in Spain, going forth so unsure, untried? "Since we began training together I have noticed his eye rings increasingly worsen. He is tired, if his mind is fractured that would lead to things such as hallucinations and odd behavior....Brother, forgive me. I do not wish to talk of that anymore." As easily as the font could spring, it went dry. She drank the wine deep before looking to him, "I know you wish to help him, and shall. It is a promise that I will help you to complete for I too, promised the boy I would help him. But for now it is not something I desire nor can speak of in all rationality any further. It is too painful. " Pain? An odd admittance. Again the face was still flat, stoic. "The girl too must be cared for lest she wither away. Might I ask of you a personal question - if it is too imprudent answer not - yet the doctrine of self infliction...I did not think you were a follower." (d)

Brother O'Corrain

She would see upon the good friar's face, a rare expression. That of a bloodhound frustrated at loosing so strong a trail. Here, he had one who would speak to him of the meat of the matter -- of hallucinations and odd behavior. All key to ciphering out the answer to the boy's mind! So close were they had hand, he could almost reach for them! And she would yank them away, as though they were upon a string. How often would such talk be withheld from him? He was aware that he had come late issue and counted upon others to tell him of the young man. Already he suspected he was not being privy to information that he *must* have. ...but none, yet, had spoken to him of Spain. Of what Master Monroe and Janice had done there. Could not be the key to all? The rites of the false Templars could well have broken Julian's mind.... or brought in to it the idea for the sign that he had carved in to his flesh. It would turn to talk of the person, that would the talk of the personal that would quiet his mind for a time. There was a smile, as he said, "...you may." When she asked her question, he hesitated. "Mmh." He contemplated his answer, his eyes closing. "...I do practice it." There was a soft incline of his head. Although he would not elaborate on why. It was true that he felt it drew him closer to God and the Savior, but self-flagellation also served as his chosen form of penance. (D)


Master Laurence

"I did not account for such a thing. It is not my affair, naturally. I was merely shocked to witness it. Next time I shall not take for granted the unlocked door yet wait for it to be open?" She went on to ask "Why, if it is not too bold? Your minds workings seem to contradict the notions of self harm while finding the virtue in other examples.." If he felt denied of answer it was because he hadn't asked the right, blatant question. Would he get what he wanted? Maybe it was worth the diversion to entertain other ideas. Asked for his help, would it not do well to know all whom he was helping, more than beyond the simple facts?(d)

Brother O'Corrain

There was a smile upon Brother Diarmuid's features, as he said, "My door shall always be unbarred, milady, should a grievous need arise...." He would quiet for a moment, before he said, "In answer to your question, milady... " There was a pause, "... it is my chosen form of penance." Although, had not the Lady Viscreed pointed out that his vows of poverty and his acts of charity could be construed as penance as well? There was a moments pause, before he would lean forward. "I fear, Madame, that I must pressure the issue...even knowing it shall cause you some pain to do so... for that, I ask forgiveness." The cogs and wheels in his eyes continued to turn, milling away at what information he had gleaned so far. "As this matter progresses.... the Lady Viscreed and Master Monroe are drawn in to torment.... There is a feeling that I cannot shake. As though all around me have the keys to this matter...and reveal it to me not. And I cannot fathom why." His eyes searched her own, as he said, "I am asked to help Master Monroe and gladly take that task -- but I cannot do it unless this secret is made plain to me! What is that all fear but not have told me? I cannot reason out the cause of Master Monroe's sorrow, until I have this secret key! It might that which unlocks everything." (D)

Master Laurence

"Secret key? What matter of theatrics are you proposing, Brother? I hardly think it is a secret if you see the boy self carved with no memory of what befell him. Secret key." The wine glass would be settled gently on the table as her evident offense manifested in word. What if he could make her face move, what if he could move the mountain "What in heavens do you want to know? For such an empirical mind it would stand to fathom you could ask a direct question. Secret key. We hav dealt with enough cyphers in our life time that some things are obviously blunt, plain and specific. Is there some aspect else of him you'd like to know? You will forgive me again if my seeking another avenue before returning to this accursed subject bothers you. So then, ask it. Plain. Specific. No more of this key nonsense. Unlike my apprentices in this matter I have little care for metaphor or symbolic references." She stood upright and waited. Evident it seemed she'd give him the answer, and leave. What had he done? Ah yes. Accused them of secrecy when his own shortcomings had not sought the right questions to probe more symptoms. (d)


Brother O'Corrain

Was that not a fair accusation to level? Those treacherous events that had come to pass in Spain were before his arrival at Laurence Hall, and all about him were those who knew! He asked the Lady Viscreed, asked the Madame, and even now determined to seek out Master deAquatine. She would find that the Augustinian was an equal in her own stubbornness... and, dare he admit it, anger. "I am asked to help this boy, when I know him not! I turn to his lover, his master, and the one who named heir, and I say to them 'I want to help this boy, tell me of him'. And they do. But not fully! There is also something unsaid. For you as much admit it to me now! You speak of odd habits and hallucinations, and in your eyes I see your mind touch upon something. But will say nothing of it! When deAquatine called me unto his apartments, I sensed sorrow about him when he looked to the boy. Why? You ask my help, yet do not supply me what knowledge I need! What is to painful for you to name?" (D)


Master Laurence

"For all of your vibrant poetry recited now of your want to help you are pitiful poor at asking the correct questions! Dear heavens, can you not be specific, or is that a trait of religious orators? Age should cure a loquacious sense of baring. No one here would deny you anything if you but ask but you say you see it in our eyes, have you sought to ask? No. If you stand here yelling one would assume no, and succesfully at that. Or are we supposed to look joyous as our limbs are ripped from us, for that is what it is like for us watching one another in pain. You speak of flocks and shepards? Well, your flock is being pulled apart not by wolves on the outside, but by their own pain. I said what do you want know. Yes, speaking of Julian is horribly painful, yet it reminds me of something not associated with his present ventures!" She countered, moving toward the door "When you can ask a specific question it is not hard to find me, until then we shall not have this conversation for it is ill manners to offend a man of God. Good day Brother." The wine remained on the table, hardly touched. His hospitality gone awry. Already quicker than he could have accounted for she was half way down the hall despite the flaring pains rising in her back (d)

Brother O'Corrain


Then in that, she had fair company. The fresh scourge marks on the Augustinian's back flared in pain and seeped blood, as she soon found the Augustinian moving to block her path. "You say you desire a specific question, then I shall give it to you. Why is this matter so entangled in some manner with Spain? It is where Master Monroe and the Lady Viscreed were wed, is it not? Was it upon his return from Spain that Master Monroe became worse off? What task of the Ebon Hall had they been sent off to accomplish there?" It was only his desire to unlock the mystery of Monroe's mind that kept him from continuing on. Although she knew it not, she had already grievously offended him. Brother Diarmuid had been called upon to help this matter and had hoped that all those that were concerned with the young Master and his well being would have volunteered the information to him. Instead of having him to drag it out of them. To him... it was a reminded that he was still the outsider. (D)

Master Laurence

Had he not thought that such a thing was more than purpose, was more than simply a thing undone? He wanted to be within their ranks? He had to stop judging. To think that they were less than, secretive, always wanting him on the outskirts. Why would she have let him in to begin with and knowing what he knew, if she grew tired of him surely he knew that she could kill him? The woman was half his size in stature and certainly thrice less by weight, surely. Yet when she reached out to push him from the door? He felt himself moved! "How long it took you to ask such questions! I am surprised you have not asked them of Viscreed or Monroe themselves. Fine, as it is a specific question." The answer was hissed in low tones, so low he would have to be accomplished at listening to hear it. Manipulating voices, manipulating muscle. The woman was downright ungodly in all that could be done in the name of God, wasn't she? "The templars lost their priest, Sir Peter DeVaraeux, when he went to spain to unravel the agenda ofof ceasing two spanish templars from reforming the order on the continent. He never returned, and some months to this, the King sought to open the routes of trade through the Strait of Gibraltar, and had viscreed pen his letter as she is a marvel with language. At any rate, the Moors were none to thrilled, nor the spanish, it almost got her killed. She went to Spain to finish the work she had started in doing that translation. The missing priest was only further cause, those men were fueling the war with the Berbers of Morocco on both sides. She was to find their motives, unravel them, send missives back to accomplish this and the Templar asked her to find DeVaruex. Julian was sent with her as protection, and additional assistance, and the pair of them thus completed the venture together. They found far more in spain than mere men at work, there were conflicting orders..differing agendas that led Julian through all matter of hellish things, secret books. These have little to do with the main objective but still they saw them, and only to compound the blatant pagan sacrifices in those wicked men calling themselves men of God. He unraveled the mystery of Greek fire, that is wha they were ultimately hunting, to give it to the King of a now unified spain. Now, the venture is longer but those are the short details. They were hunting, they were hunted. You do things in such ventures beyond idle court scope, Scotland pushes that of my noviates. We have spent more time with blood on our hands from direct kills than blood at a distance. He saved a woman named Margot, in all his adventures. Of others you should ask him, though I would specify you use exact questions or you will annoy him and rightly so. Now you have our answers, and anyone would reasonably be haunted. I have not been privy to more than reports, but I am certain it is deeply personal. Or do you forget that we feel?" The question posed, a risen arch of eyebrow, "Now Good day." She was fuming. Down the hall beyond his door she moved. Unlike him she hadn't asked anyone to do what had been done to her back. She hadn't asked it nor would she wish it on a soul. She secretly felt his practice extreme, but to each their own, she understood the letting of blood as a closeness to God. She'd never felt closer to God than when she was half dead. (d)

Brother O'Corrain

Was it not a vicious cycle. For he was not the only one within the walls of Laurence Hall to judge. Had Claramae not judged the Augustinian when she found him at harsher devotions that she was unaccustomed to? Then why was she so surprised, when he judged them to be secretive? And so it would go. She would see the anger subside, now that she had fed to him new information. It was the talk of grimories and pagan sacrifices that worried the good friar, more than anything. In it, the good brother saw what could sunder a mind... or open one to the demonic. This, at last, gave him a trail for him to focus his attention on. No only the grimories and pagan sacrifices, but Spain as a whole. The mere he knew of what unfolded there, the more skilled he would be at helping Monroe back to himself. As she moved passed, she would find her question answered, "No more than you forget that I am of this Hall as well." (D)


Master Laurence

"No sir I do not forget it, that is your folly. You simply did not ask. Think you we are unappreciative of your work when it has thus been expressed? No. Yet you are rife with idiocy if you think that the world will open thus for you. It is a matter of asking, some thing simply aren't discussed in the vagrant open on a day by day basis, and even in private we have a care of one another. Do you wish to be with us? Truly - if you do than you must not set us aside, for we do not set you aside. Be exact. Ask questions. We are as family here. You look at us as if all we do is black deeds. Well, someone must do what others will not do. Even in your case, no?" She had continued to speak but then turned when she was done. It was horribly abrupt, but she was aching. Her back began to fire in awful spasms, the tension causing it to lock from beneath her neck, creeping down, always down. Soon she left his hall entirely (d)

Brother O'Corrain

She would find a dogged pursuer in the Augustinian, for he would dog her footsteps. "If this be a family, then it is most unlike any I have ever seen...." Although, his experience was not the best to draw upon. For he had only scant memories of his blood parents, while to him the Knights Hospitaller was a *literal* brotherhood. ...and yet, he was not certain what to make of the Hall. "If you deem my outlook to be folly and idiocy...then so be it. For I judge the world a far brighter and kinder place than many would have it appear." She would find his gaze turned upon her, "I pray you will forgive me if I do not have the custom of the Halls down to rote, as you do." That almost could have been an indictment. After a moments thought, he said, "Know you that I am a Knight Hospitaller...a physician by training... How oft is it that you have gone to a physician when ill? When he checks you over for illness or injury, does he not ask 'Tell me of your hurts...where it hurts.' What benefit is it to you not tell him fully where you hurt? His care for you is hindered. Of that, we may agree. So I am in this case... a physician of the mind. I say to you 'Tell me of Master Monroe'. But you do not. Not fully. Because I was not explicit in the asking." (D)

Master Laurence

"Had I thought it pivotal to tell you as it would have contributed to his state of being, I would have, yet this is older than Spain by reckoning. Are you content now? The world being so much brighter a place the news received it must be invarably brighter. Shining as the face of a newly minted coin." At well beyond thirty she had far more time to practice sarcasm than Julian, deliver it with a straight face, and give no hint to what else was coming. A physician if not given what he desires is not round about. If his father did not speak of it to you, you should have asked me sooner. Goodness knows the girl is a walking font of information. A strange family? Well. Indeed, our spouses, our friends and collegues, our apprentices. There is certainly a wider leveling and a tight interior circle. If you feel cast aside of it, it is not my place to escort you in to the middle. Trust like respect is earned, as I am certain I earn some feeling of some sort from you. Know now I truly have no care of what it is. Ihave too many people to keep alive and with them that world you find so bright to protect.You have earned a great score of our respect already, but do not mistake our respect with open-ness. We do not possess that quality as you can so plainly see. It is a selective sense of being. If you wish to partake of it, it begins with simple questions." She wondered why the Augustinian was so damned determined. She kept walking the entirity of the time. "Now for the love of heaven, Good day." Could he not fathom an ending when he saw one. Would he keep following her? The pain was increasing, her steps would start to slow. Eyes shut, she willed her body to move again. It was genius really expert, how one could know the body enough to command it onward (d)

Brother O'Corrain

She would find the Augustinian in a contemplative mood, "I marvel that you did not find it pivotal... for could it not be said that Master Monroe's state of mind *worsened* after his assignments in Spain...." There was a shake of his head. "And perhaps your right... for it was folly on my part, not to have asked more of Spain from the Lady Viscreed earlier." He was contrite, when he had caused to be. He would walk with her some, listening to what he words were. For while she may have made him a Master within her organization, could he not be said to still be an apprentice? Needing the guiding hand of another to truly find his place. As for simple questions? Well, a rather complex had formed on his lips. Instead, a simple one was asked, "Milady, are you alright? You look as though you are ready to fall over...." And he would do a gesture, that, perhaps, as unknown. He would move to walk beside her -- and placed his arm about her waist. Should his deduction be correct. (D)

Master Laurence

He was a master of the spirit but it could be a supposition that yes, he was an apprentice within their world, beyond a noviate. A true apprentice who needed the wise guidance of the Grandmaster to assist him in his endevors as he was Master of a subject in his own correct. "It would be amazing what one deduces even after the fact, we are grand with logic, but we aren't infalible." Her way of saying that no one was devoid of error, just in their case it was improbable only. The Augustinian reached out to touch Madame Death bringing about a state of being a statue "Thank you," she ventured in some appreciation yet quite taken aback that the would actually touch her. "No, I am not feeling my best, O'Corrain. I can stand now. I would appreciate it if you let me go. Your proximity is uncomforting." England had undone so many stances of the old within her, and it had allowed her to converse with him, trade meager banter bits of humor, consider his opinion. Touching? The intimate practice drew to mind what Sorschal had told her - she was a woman of distance, of long proximity. In the aspect of physical being she might always remain that way. It was evident whatever walls remained with the halls associates were no longer there, but Diarmuid? He had experienced no walls in some places where now he was forced to scale a large one . Gently she adjusted herself as to be comfortably a foot beyond his touch. Yes ,she was reduced to limping now, but better that at present. "It is not that I do not appreciate your help, merely the action is very familiar. We are not so yet..familiar." At least she offered some explaination. " I am in a great deal of pain. I am going to go to my room." (d)


Brother O'Corrain

"Of course, milady," he said gently. Although he was loathe to do it - for he felt that she would indeed fall upon the floor in a heap, should he remove his arm from her - he would give her the distance she had sought. And yet, the worry was wrote plain on his face. "Forgive me, milady, I did not mean to overstep my bounds." And he would bow to her. Still, he would ask, "Do you require accompaniment?... I am loathe to see you fall, milady." (D)

Master Laurence

"It is alright, you did what you thought was correct. A physician knows a times instinct outweighs desire. It is merely I have lived a little longer to persevere a little better." She canted her head, maneuvering in some semblance of prior grace despite the visible limp. "The longer I remain up the liklihood increases that I will plummet, which is not a sight my halls should see.If it please you, you may follow, to make sure." It was a generous offer, to be certain. "The only other man familiar with my being in such a matter is d'Aquitaine." Just as she was with his, between the pair of them and Adelaide. He had only ever called the court's physician once when the extent of her injuries were beyond his Lazerus like hands. She was trying, in a sense. Trying to afford him a sliver in the door jam without throwing open the entirity of the door. Part of her had been at odds with him, judging him in return for having been so judged. Each of them questioning being here or the allowance of it. (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There was a soft smile, "If you do not object over much, I shall indeed...." And he would stay step by step with her. His normally brisk stride, cut so that he could stay easily within reach of her incase she did indeed plummet. There was a smile, as he said, "Then I shall count my self privileged...." Once they were safely to her chambers, Brother Diarmuid was quiet for a few moments. She was trying. Why could he not as well? "I seek your forgiveness, milady, for the harsh things I have said to you this evening....." And he would bow unto her. A full bow. Rarely given. Previously only enjoyed by Bess. After a moments hesitation, "I shall mediate upon what you have said.... for I think it shall help me a great deal." He heistated, "For... I think... I do not truly understand my place here. I shall do all I can to truly be worthy of your respect." (D)

Master Laurence

"It is not that you do not understand it, maybe it is harder to accept. It is not the easiest of households to hold ministry in, nor is it the most common place for your neophytes. It isn't an abbey or a monestary, it is an opulet house with opulent illusions, and it is filled with people no common man will ever understand. You being here it means you are not so common. Oh you would feign so," she looked at him knowingly, "But you are not. It is not every man that goes toe to toe with Master Peregrine on under-dark matters, or to unravel the cause of a young man with as much love for God as water for oil. I believe you are here to reach what is otherwise unreachable in us all. If you were that banal I would not have let you stay." She canted her head to him, "It is forgiven. I was not of best manners nor words, I hope you too will grant me pardon." (d)

Brother O'Corrain

"I have, milady," he said gently. There was a smile, as he bid her good night. Could this not be said to be the turning point for him? His Grandmaster had spoken frankly to him about the nature of the Hall and those within. Including... himself. There was another bow to her, "Good night, milady, and blessed dreams." (D)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

iii.

Brother O'Corrain

When the morning light again came to Laurence Hall, it would seemingly be a day of new beginnings... The servants were no doubt keen to relate to one another how the Grandmaster and the Master of Spirituality had engaged in a heated verbal due. And they were given a new cause of amazement, for the black clad Augustinian was even now walked toward the Grandmaster's quarters. When he arrived, he would knock quietly upon the door to her chambers. (D)


Bromheilde and Master Laurence

Had he even before came here? Yes, once he had, seeking out the hall holding the apartments of the Masters, imparticular the Grandmaster. None ever refered to her by the grandiose script, yet the title was an old, revered one. The shadow world's feminine sage had not emerged for the Holy Offices, of which there must have been at least two hours as it was now beyond the hour of nine. Inside, what do Death dealers do when there is nothing but their own pain to mitigate? Remember they are human, wrought of the dust, and no measure of strength can amount to it being otherwise. Bromheilde had no intention of opening the door. Instead she passed the Madame her cup of medicine, adjusting the pillows behind her back. When the knock came again, she glared at the door. If Diarmuid had never seen an angry Bavarian? He wouldn't to. "Guard let someone by, see they knock jah. Two times! Now three. I tell them go.." Brown hair swayed against the back in its long, tight braid. "No, that will not be necessary Lady Voltaire, let me come in to my dressing robes at the very least. You may pull back the bed curtains, open the shutters. Let whomever it is not come in to a cave hmm?" The Bavarian did not approve, if only for the fact he was the harpy that guarded the Masters' inner sanctums. Despite the fact deAquitaine detested German, she yelled the same at those who sought to disturb him as he worked beyond his recommended times of audience. Translating the orders in silent command, the maids of the chamber would pull back the curtains to bring in the son, stoke the fire, and help to attire the Madame in a fitting way. The dressing gown was almost unto a morning lesser dress itself. The Bavarian steel wrought guardian-mother finally opened the door. No, she didn't care that he'd been kept waiting, but was quite astonished at who did wait. "Brother O'Corrain, guten tag. The Madame is ready to recieve you now." She softened by a milimeter of tone, could he distern it? Not likely. She was as tightly wrapped as the two braids of hair that made the bun shapes on either side of her head. Claramae would have risen to recieve him, but she would not feign the practice for practice's sake today. "Brother O'Corrain, this is unexpected. What may I do for you?" (d)


Brother O'Corrain

It was almost as though the Augustinian had sensed Bromhilde's glare through the door, for he had taken a step back and nearly went on his way. But once again, he had knocked. Huzzah, for Providence had smiled upon him! The door was open and -- oh dear, he found himself eye to eye with a startled and somewhat angry Bavarian. ...that surely couldn't be good. For all of a moment, he had considered claiming to have had the wrong room and being on his way. Somehow, however, he marshaled a radiant smile and said, "Blessed morning to you, Bromheilde." When he was allowed entrance to the room, he would offer a very cautious and ginger half-bow. There was a certain stiffness to how he moved, evidence that his back still mended from his harsher devotions. "Blessed morning to you as well, milady." There was a soft smile, as he came in to the inner chamber. He hesitate for a moment, looking at the daunting Bromhiedle, before going further in. "....I do you will forgive me. But I had thought to call and see how you mended." It was the worry of a physician, for a patient who had nearly faultered. Although, might it also be something more? Friendship was a rare thing, after all. (D)


Master Laurence

Bromheilde moved fear in to the heart of many people by the way she looked alone! She had served Claramae no less than fifteen years, wherein every intimate detail of the lady's personage, household, companions, preferences, and the undiscussed were all in her ever-keeping. The limbs lining deAquitaine's wall she merely shook her head at. Sorschal's diabolical illusion traps she batted nary an eyelash. If any female being caused as much discomfort as the madame, it was her principle chatalain. It was no wonder why when she behaved as a mother to the other members of the household she was listened to. Under the downy feathers, she had talons. Leaving him to enter the woman continued to burn holes in the back of his head with her eyes while Claramae spoke, "You are forgiven, I am merely suprised you would make another visit here at all. Calling on me is very kind." If not baffling. She supposed by now he'd seen she wasn't uncharitable in being the actual giver of nonforced social graces, though it was odd having a priest in one's room. She wondered if any had ever been called when death seemed iminent. Last rites? "I am afraid the fall weather has set my mending back some degree, there is a series of muscle within the lower aspect of my back in conflict with a portion of my upper. The central has healed magnificently. A faulty base, a hardened top makes not for a comfortable middle. My ankle was badly twisted in the battle of Plymoth, my leg quite stepped on. Somewhere in all of that a natural suppleness of motion is damaged by the increasing of the scar tissue. Which is often broken, the flexibility increased. The method has gone quite well but again, the cold. It is not seemly to discuss the additional injury with a man of God." Unless he wished to hear of the knowledge gained through disections. She adjusted herself in the bed. Hand waving, the maids would curtsy, then leave. "Lady Voltaire would you send up a glass of wine for the Brother, he prefers Avigon wine." (d)


Brother O'Corrain

...Such a task would not be difficult... After all, Brother Diarmuid had long ago taken the tonsure. At least he did not rub at it. There was a smile, as she spoke. After a moments hesitation, he would say, "...Perhaps I have been remiss, then, not to call upon you more." There was a nod of his head, as he listened at how she recounted her wounds unto him. And she would see the wheels turning, as he surely he was given thought to what comfort he could give her. There was a small incline of his head, a demur "Thank you" to Bromhilde. It seemed as though he had come late in offering healing service to the Grandmaster, but he nodded one the less and would ask, "Is there anything I may to do make your convalescence more comfortable?" Perhaps a warmed brick, or something more suitable? There was a smile, though, to hint at that he was a hardened soul -- even if he was a man of God. He hesitated for a moment, before saying, "....I had also come, to see if I might speak with you more on my position here." Aaah. The apprentice had come seeking another lesson from the Grandmaster. (D)


Master Laurence

"Remiss? Well one could hardly blame you when such is not discussed within the household, causes of worry and distress here are not suitable, given the rather large number of people we live with. The Voltaires come to be beside themselves in such worry, it is not fair to do that to those of an advanced age, " nevermind that Maxamillion and Bromheilde could kill with minimal effort. Maxamillion had bequeathed to Claramae more grace in motion. For nearly sixty the man moved like the black feline that even now purred content in a beam of sunshine at the foot of the Master's bed. Bromheilde? The woman seemed not to lift weapons that he could tell, but it was evident she had her tricks lest why would she have served so long? In her absence Claramae could not help but to repeat, "You musn't give too much stock to the Lady Voltaire, again, she is overly protective. I do hope she was not too upsetting." It had showed on his face, and secretly? Claramae found it rather funny. The years had softened Bromheilde a great deal to the inhabitants of the house, even allowing the Bavarian to pick her favorites. Needless to say who the first one was. "Of yet there is nothing I need," expected answer, "But should it arise I will tell you,"unexpected answer. Her ears were decidely not damaged, as she took in his question. "Why do you not bring a chair hence and sit." So long as he didn't pale and die from the shock, "Let us discuss it, and you make seek what you will." (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There was a soft smile, as he listened to her words. He would not gainsay her in that... but he did feel as though he still should have visited. Had he not been able to see that she was mending and it was still an ongoing thing? There was a raise of his eyebrows, before he laughed softly, "Mmhm. Is it truly so easy to tell? I think she cultivates an air that would turn the hair gray on any man....." And while it would come as a shock to him, it was not so great as to having seen young Master Monroe in a church. After all, had it not been said that the boy and faith were as oil to water? Still, there was a smile. An incline of his head. "Then I shall do all I can for you..." And when bidden to fetch a chair, he would do so. Would either of them pay attention to the goings on at the foot of the Grandmasater's bed? For Stiso was no longer alone, the black and silver tabby cat had ventured forth as well...for she still find it rather amusing to stalk the good brother's habit. As the two-leggers talked, Clarie had found a new game. She had crouched down and stalked amongst the shadows of the master's bed, before she pounced! Poor Stiso. It seemed that the young kitten wished to play... There was a soft smile, as he brought a chair close to the Grandmaster's bedside. One hoped he would not burst into flames, given the gaudiness of the chair and his poor vows. After a length of time, he said, "....I feel adrift. ...In all things..." Not only in the Hall, but in faith as well. "I fell as though I have lost direction..." There was a slow shake of his head, "...I think I felt it so, before I came to Hall...and I feel as though the Hall has only brought this to the fore..." (D)


Master Laurence

She had moved around the house with and without the silver tipped, gemtopped cane that was even now leaning against the wall near the head of the bed. He displayed much in his body language; it was not her custom to appear so pleased but to say the least the way he replied was worthy of a partial grin. "Yes, it has long been wagered a great many on the head of Master Voltaire were caused by his wife's eyes. I hope you will not age all the sooner for being so glared at." If it were indeed so simple perhaps she should have let Bromheilde stare the parliment to death. It would certainly save them on the costs of supplies. As he pulled the chair closer she inclined her head, "Again, thank you..your cat is a constant companion is she not? Or is it only because she finds some part of you amusing?" The young kitten was one of the most playful beasts she had ever seen, stalking, batting, continually pouncing on pray of fabric. She ingested more of the medicinal brew in the cup, nearly chuckling aloud. Well a mild sound emerged close to the association of meager glee. Sisto moved in a circle ,sweeping his tail up out of Claire's reach. He continually kept batting at her paws, her ears as if to say 'No, no! Leave it alone!' Could Claire not see that he was lounging in the luxurious patch of sunshine she kept blocking? He jumped her back to teach her a lesson, before moving toward the head of the bed in the safety of his Madame, only to find that he moved toward Claire after a little, staring. Hmm. Since the good brother hadn't witnessed hellfire for lounging in expensive furnishing, it was safe to indulge him. "Your purpose is hazed by this place and its people. We confuse you, as does the nature of everything surrounding you, yes? How to continue your vows yet live here, how to see your neophytes guided, yet to what end. To be surrounded by so much dark intent, dark devices you must wonder if any can really live at all. If it is worth it, if the vows said over yon rosary on the day we spoke are really true. You wondered at your place before arrival having left Canterbury where one would have thought, ah yes..here is my calling only for it to change. Even the guides need to be guided sometimes.'" She placed the potent potion to the side "I will tell you, in my opinion, I think we are already a hard lot to except let alone to one of God's men with poor vows, we surely must look the embodiment of every single cardinal sin. Yet you look beyond that or try to see the difference. Is that not also something you must do in yourself, to look beyond the vows of your office? Beyond the tonsure, the rosary, your penances, and works of charity there is still a man. You are an example to other men, not the epitome of men. You wonder if you are here for life, even if it is by affiliation or if you do not live with us forever. You must look beyond everything. Can we give to you what it is you need. Want is often confused with need. As you give us what it is we need, and is it worth it? Take for example the young Monroe. Wishes he to be in church? Certainly not. Does he need it? As we need air. It is harder to recognize. Just as he found out he needed to be loved, that he needed acceptance, and that he needed to believe in something. Just as any master here has had the same quarrel over self preservation as versus those we have allowed in beside us. Or in a recent case, England. Did I need to be there? Perhaps not as much as a sincere want to be, yet did I need to be broken to be better made?" She looked down at her legs, covered by the bedspread. "I believe so, yes. When my back was first marred, I told no one for weeks. My first wounds were not done in any battle on field under banner. At any rate," What was that one time that started this spiral of pain, this constant reminder of mortality, "Before that, in an attack,my fear was exposed to Jean-Claude, and he saw my countenance so marred. Not by choice. Then as it worsened it was continued to be in self care until the sickness became too much. It was riddled with things that wouldn't heal, the beginnings of infections. I though that night I would die. Yet in being so..ripped apart, I learned that others indeed would hold me aloft, as we all sought to hold the world aloft, so we might hold one another. England be came a need, as all I was became opened to the people I ruled over in the name of the King. They have seen of me what I think no Scott will ever witness. Then to have been shot in the field by the road..and on that day, on that day I was in God's literal hands. We are often broken, or thrust to a place left to meander through it. But there is always meaning. Are you not a Master of spirituality, taught by other masters, all answering to the greatest of all masters? I should think those of us who ascend the heights of all that is mortal need constant reminding we are just that, and to be humble and gracious. We also need to know that for all that is inhumane about us, we are wrought in the image of God, and we are not always destined to suffer." (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There had been a soft smile, as talk briefly turned to Clarie. There was a light incline of his head, "She is a constant companion to me...." Rarely was he seen without Clarie following behind. It could be said that the kitten was a good match for the brother, her playful mood a contrast to the rather somber moods that Brother Diarmuid was often accustomed to. And the kitten could be surely credit with a rare feat: getting the Augustinian to smile more. Down at the foot of the bed, it seemed that Clarie was determined to play with Stiso's tail, as she was undaunted in the batting of her paws and ears. 'But I want to play!' the kitten seem to exclude, her paws ever reaching for his tail. 'Lets play, old fuddy duddy!' One when Stiso at last pounced her back, would she leave him alone... so that she could look piteous and sulk. 'Just wanted to play...' Was that what would eventually see Stiso go back to Clarie? In the world of men, Brother Diarmuid would not quietly. Taking in the words of his Grandmaster with rapt attention. She could see that he was listen to her words, that he thought of them all. The workings of his mind, however, were - perhaps - truly revealed for the first time. They were not great cogs and gears.... but the mind of a man. One who struggled. "I admit that I thought my calling had been found in Canterbury....amongst the lepers and tending to the lazar house. ....despite all that had unfolded, I do look back on that place with a great fondness...and a sense of peace." It had been his own rather impolitic nature that had seen him removed from the archbishopric. And set to wonder the roads, until arriving at Laurence Hall. "Perhaps I had thought that in constant motion....constant work... I could somehow find my calling again." Ah, so that was why he was ever giving alms to the poor and bearing God's light into the underdark. And it would be fair to say that he seemed intent on working himself to death, by it! "On coming here I had indeed thought to found a worth flock....one that would favor a kind hand. I ... admit .. that I showed my own naivete in how I deal with those of the Hall." There was a soft smile. It was gentle, but enough of a remind of their heated exchange in the hall. "And as you say.... there is the thought in my mind that perhaps I am to be of the Hall.... but not in it." After a while, he would meet her gaze. "I would ask...by your leave...to be relieved of my duties... for a time. My mind is in tumult and I know not what to do." There was a broad smile, "...In your words, I know that I would find understanding and truth. I ask only to be allowed time to fully think upon them..." (D)


Master Laurence

Sisto in time relented to entertaining Claire, thus begrudgingly entertaining himself. The pair of them had many exchanges so far, each of them where Sisto sat as aloof as a phoenix. Yet in this one time, something changed. Claramae listened to him, his struggles nothing that others did not struggle with. Perhaps he needed not to be held aloft as a man of God, but treated only as a man. "No one wants to have their peace disrupted. You miss it, and worry of the people left behind there. Should you wish it I could easily have them looked in upon, reports brought to you." England still turned its head at the snap of her fingers, because the memory of England would not forget what had come from the shadow to live in the light, to defeat the enemy. "In the interum, if you wish time to think you may have it. One should not go about one's duties so pulled in thought. I do hope on a personal notation," Personal? Yes, "That you will chose to remain of us, and for a time of yet, within us. I do not expect you to feel as duty bound as I might. Yet I share your desire to manfest these thoughts to a physical quandry to work through. Be it in the figuring of equations for such quandries or the quandry itself. Never ceasing, ever going, letting things fall away lest they must be looked upon. Some things you may let fade away, never gazing on it. Others you must pick up. Take as much time as you need. Though, here is a thought: Perhaps you were never in as much peace as you thought within the Lazar House. Far be it from me to offer more than an interpretation of God's will, I am not a member of the cloth," merely an over-educated, pious heretic, "But it stands to reason that those who may need the help of seeing God the most are not always those who are already closest to him. God blessed the meek, the modest, and the humble. He favored the cast sides: The mute, the lame, the blind, the thief, the harlot, the poor. We are possesed of every faculty and by no means lacking in a physical sense of being. If anything I am quite glad to see you have adapted well to our...being. I would not have taken on any mere member of any clergy, God would not have let me I think. We are very guarded. We are downright intolerable to the soul at times..I'm sure.." She leaned forward, for a moment it seemed the amount of dram had begun to wore off. She shut her eyes, holding hard to the side of the bed as she continued to speak. "But..among us, you will find people like Jean-Claude who openly laugh, his wife who ...is..well there are few words to describe Adelaide." weak smile, but she favored the woman very highly, "The oddity that is Peregrine...or..Janice, who like you would not be here unless some other motive were at work. I am not supersticious but I do believe God has..his plans. Goodness, pardon me.." The spasm passed, letting her at least ponder the idea of leaning back again. (d)


Brother O'Corrain

As she was wrought her spasm, she would find the Augustinian beside her. Poor man, he was distraught... but hid it well behind a mask of stone. Only when it had passed - and she assured him of that fact - would he recover himself to a degree. Still, she would find the good brother aiding her as she reclined into her cushions once again. Only at another insistence that she was indeed alright, would he resume his own seat. After a time, he would say, "....please. It would bring some comfort to know how those at the Lazar House faired...." Even as he knew that many of those he knew would likely have succumbed to their illness... Still, he worried over them. And once more, she would see him absorbing her words, thinking on them again. There was little doubting that he was an apt apprentice, giving his Grandmaster's advice to such heady matters that plagued him now. In them, and in his own faith, he knew that answer *would* be found. There was a soft smile, as he said, "I cannot deny the truth of your words... for they are as clear as the morning sun... and I shall do all I can for this house and those who are both in and of it." Even if that was not where his own path lay. "...I appreciate all that you have said unto me. I find it most comforting." She could see the truth of that writ large on his features. "....by your leave, and with your approval.. I shall indeed take time to think upon them." Would Clarie and Sisto be rather broken hearted, when the good brother rose from his seat? For it signaled a time of parting. Until, of course, the good friar called again upon the Grandmaster. There was a soft smile, "I shall not journey far, milady... only unto the Benedictine abbey on Iona." There was a moment's thought, before he said, "....I worry over young Master Monroe. Please do not hesitate to send for me if the need arises." (D)


Master Laurence

She had actually found herself letting him help her, thanking him with a nod when she was settled again. There was a distinctly different look to her eyes, appreciation being the one key thing in it, let alone a diminished sense of presence as if the spasm wrestled out of her near every ounce of pride instead of pain. Jacob so wrestled with an adversary and his hip was withered . Sisto promptly did something that caused his master to chuckle aloud when he picked up the kitten by the scruff of its neck to take to the head of the bed! His, his! At least for a little while longer. He had much to teach Claire at any rate. "I worry for him too, if anything worsens I will send a messenger to you straight away. God willing we will not have to interrupt your pilgrimage, that is sacred." Claramae was to say the least, moved that he would leave a holy site to attend matters that only served to baffle his mind or twist his heart all the more. "I wish you well then." The muscles of the affected injured places were the worst. Scarred flesh was mended, but what of muscle, and nerve?So soon after one had passed, another streak of pain jumped around in to the deepest part of every scar. It was painful as more tissue replaced old or stretched tissue, as the muscles reformed only to knot in ways inconcievable to the tradition of God's design. He designed a vessel that could withstand more than its fair share, but at what cost. The black cat let go of the kitten, if only to place the top of its black head on her arm as sensing what was about to ensue. Eyes shut, amazingly she didn't move, merely the pain dicated itself where it was bound to go. He meowed in discontent, climbing up the nearest leg only to be told, "Sisto..not now.." Had the cat's weight caused that much pain? (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There was an incline of his head, a soft smile, "God willing... the young Master shall ever be as he was the day deAquatiane wed his wife." There was little doubt, to have seen the man who was once so macabre and withdrawn, to be so gay and keen to dance with his lady. There was an incline of his head, "...but until God has the final say in the matter, then I shall stand ever ready to help him." There was a smile, "And God bless you as well, milady." There was a smile, as he saw Sisto carrying Clarie around by the scruff of his neck. There was an apology to Sisto, as the good brother reclaimed his ball of fur. He turned a gaze to Claramae, worried. "Are you sure that there is nothing I may do for you, milady?" She was in a great deal of pain. (D)


Master Laurence

"Would you be so kind as to call The Lady Voltaire please? If you pull the chording, just there...I..can't reach it." The cat moved but only above her head, as if anyone who was undesired came near he would do away with them. "Thank you....and.....I.." Her eyes fluttered before she clamped down on the vice that was being conscience. "Will you not..leave." At least within this moment. She wished not to detere him from whatever it was he sought to do - only - admittance being what it was..she had no desire to be alone at the moment. "Before I was shot, my carriage was overturned." Much like anyone else, she shouldn't be alive either. "Between the scars, and the new wounds, and my legs...I am amazed I move at all..it is not without remembering." Begrudingly she was internally ruing the forced exposure but understand if she were going to show some of herself, that another was bound to be allowed further in. The color was increasing in her face, a heavy red flush. (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There would be only a moment's pause, as he would gently set Clarie down upon the bed as well. Even the fluff ball could sense something was amiss and would remain above Claramae's head, puffing herself up to be intimidating. And so Claramae would be guarded by Sisto and Claire. Brother Diarmuid would ring the cord, the one that would summon Lady Voltaire. Only at Claramae's asking... would he find the resolve to stay in the Valkyrie's presence. Brother Diarmuid would smile quietly, and say, ".....Yes, milady, I shall." And he would stay with her, for the duration that she desired. (D)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

iv.

Lady Viscreed

It had been hours since the wedding in the terms of it being the next day in fact, turning beyond afternoon toward the evening when Janice finally emerged from the suite of rooms she shared with her husband. The intention was to not only move beyond the confines of the chamber but to visit the chamber of another. Seeing Claramae, she hoped to ease her suffering while at the same time softening her own personal perspective. The Monroe pair were not allowed to return to their home yet, under the obvious premise of Julian's condition. As he improved, she hoped it would be permanent, that strain could amount to everything. In her own case, they had become doubly worried. She would always be frail to them. People of Ebony Hall were comprised of God's strongest matter. Made of steel and ether, they seemed to defy every human convention. It was not too long a way from one area toward the next. In her hands she held a ribbon she'd been working on with Claramae's family motto. (d)

Brother O'Corrain

One wondered, would she be surprised to see the black clad Augustinian just a head? He had come out of an t-shaped corridor that led off to his own humble suite of rooms. There seemed to be a change in him... it seemed that the somber air that had always been about him had lifted. And it did indeed seem as though Clarie, the playful kitten, was ever the constant companion. Janice would see the kitten try to pounce on the trailing edge of the brother's habit, only to have him teasing jerk the fabric out of the kitten's reach. The poor ball of fur looked at its empty paws, before turning again. Ah! There. Clarie prowled up and pounced again - catching his habit this time! How she savaged it with teeth and claws... kinda. Still, it explained why the edges of the good brother's habit seemed to either be frayed or in a continual repair. There was a smile, as he paused and looked behind him - the kitteh ran into his leg, blinking at her eyes as she stared up at her human. Why'd he stop? - and smiled to Janice, "Good afternoon, milady, does it find you blessed?" Did she notice the stiffness in how he had turned, or the care he took when he bent down to scratch Clarie between the ears. (D)

Lady Viscreed

Janice smoothed the ribbon across her palm. The Latin looked at her as if words could have eyes Per Varios Casus, Through Many Difficulties. It amazed her that the motto of the Casey family had come to be that which she incorporated in to a new heraldy that blended in subtle ways the lands of her parents. Much to Janice's surprise she was not alone in her path. The man of God walked the same way, followed by his companion. Ever at her Games, Claire had no care for the world of men. What did they wory over,why did they quarrel? Couldn't everyone simply chase bits of things to amuse themselves? In a way it was that way. Forever grasping an illusive piece of string, cleaving to successes like the little sewn motto ribbon. Both of them were approaching the gilded double doors, both of them ready to speak ."Tis nearly eventide Brother, so good evening," she grinned looking down to the little kitten, "And to you, little Claire." Pain. It pushed and pulled everything as the mysteries moved the wonders of the halls secrets. Beauty was touched always in its center by pain. "I am alright, thank you..what of yourself? You do not look well." A face so young shouldn't be able to twist in worry that way. "Did you come to see the Master? I am glad she's let you come to her rooms if that is so. Even marble moves for company." (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There was a grimace, as he rose. Claire looked ever so smug, after getting paid her tithe of attention from Brother Diarmuid...and the Lady Viscreed! Although, she hadn't scratched the kitten's ears... Claire would rub against Janice's legs, purring. There was a moment's hesitation, as he wondered how he could still her worries. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "...I lost my self in my devotions." The way that he met her gaze, should be enough to let her know that he had been lost in the harsher devotions that he often lapsed in to. There was a soft smile, "Worry not...for it mends, with the help of the Hall's healers." There was an incline of his head, "Indeed, I go to speak to the Grandmaster once again." Hold on a tic. 'Again'? So he had gained the Madame's inner sanctum once already. "I had thought to speak with her again..." He hesitated, then smiled. "I suppose there is no harm in the telling...." He met her gaze, "I have asked, and been granted, a reprieve from duties." Lightly, he would reach out to touch her shoulder. "It shall not be long, I promise you." As he had promised the Lady St. Laurence already. "I am soon to go to pilgrimage to Iona." (D)


Lady Viscreed

He looked like how her heart had felt; the reflection he cast off like a living mirror twisted Janice's insides on his behalf. A tithe of attention Claire sought, what tithe had Diarmuid given to God? An idle pass over the cat's fur would appease her before she turned upward to look at Diarmuid. It was easy for the religious to hide their extremism in the deeping of soul and religious extasy that accompanied the mortification of flesh. Janice could not have claimed to have beaten herself, nodding her head in acknowledgment of it, but had heard of the practice even among the most loyal of nuns. For her part, she often prayed prostrate before the cross, not only on her knees. She had once gone a day without shoes in winter to understand their blessing, and believed her own life's story was a reason faith was necessary. Still, the world could live with less pain. "So long as you are alright--" she ventured, tucking lose gold waves behind the shell of her ear. "She is very wise, like you. Oh, you will take a leave?" Her heart started to beat so fast it was bound to leap out of her chest, right into the hand that held the ribbon. Julian was improving, and even men of God were still ordinary men with questions to answer, wounds to tend, minds to rest. What ifs began to gnaw away at the little peace formed only to be blown away in the next breathe. "A pilgrimage? When all is well perhaps I should take one myself..but I can not of yet." Julian needed her, she needed him. Her body couldn't be put through the trials of a pilgrimage either. Gently she turned to knock on the door. Why was it when Bromheilde answered she beamed at Janice as if she brought the sun to the room filling with twilight? It wasn't fair! Bromheilde at least didn't give Diarmuid the gaze of death, but a curt nod. "Come in, she is reading behind curtains..I pull them back. You take a seat?" The barvarian had two brought out, taking Janice's hand to guide her to one, "You still look too skinny, we fix that now you with us again for a little." She would patt her face,"Your husband too, we will fatten you both up. It is good for you especially."

Master Laurence

As the curtains were pulled back they revealed Claramae looking through the pages of a book. By the light of the fire and soft lamps, her coloring was beginning to return. The stain of the day was evident still in her eyes, by the way white still crept on the edges of peach-rose tint. "Good evening you both. What is the cause? I am fortunate to be so visited.." Janice had risen to pay a kiss to Claramae's cheek, sitting on the edge of the bed by its head instead of the offered chair first. The Laurence woman, holding the name of a saint as her own, touched the ribbon with the motto of her Irish kin. "Thank you. It is very pretty, I will keep it beside me as a reminder." (d)

Brother O'Corrain

There would be a playful arch of his eyebrow, as Janice was shown to be in Bromhilde's favor. A smile was a rare treat - or so his own experiences said - and to be taken by the hand? Said to be heaven, by those privileged enough. What was Brother Diarmuid's greeting? A narrowing of his eyes and a possible, "Bah." There was a gentle tease of, "Should I find my own seat, then?" He shook his head, before taking his seat. Already, the ball of fur was wide-eyed, peering this way and that. Looking for Sisto. Despite their first meeting, Claire;s had decided the old fuddyduddy was worth playing with. And she stalked around - looking for the black cat. Brother Diarmuid smiled, "I had come to check upon you...and se how you were doing in the flesh." (D)


Lady Voltaire

Oh indeed, indeed good Brother! To be so loved by the chatalain was to be as welcomed as saints where by Mary, Queen of Heaven. No two hands could be more consolitory where a pair of eyes could be so damning. Two chairs were pulled out, not one, though she did take Janice to a seat only for the girl to spring out of it to dote on her Master. "Always so sweet and gentle," she muttered like a kindly matron appriving of the behavior. "Oh you take your own chair well, Brother, you are a man. Put it by the bed jah? Madame likes you." At least she didn't wish him dead with her eyes. The expression was gentler (if she really was gentle with men) a cant of head, a hand offering him the chair before she went to see after refreshment. "Gentle, Lady Viscreed, no jarring her. We should be calling you Monroe now, soon?" The Bavarian looked at her expectantly. Happy to recieve a nod, she went on her way.


Master Laurence

Claramae had been given a shown when her curtain was pulled back! A little ribbon token, a pretty young daughter to dote on her, a kindly priest warring with her chatalain. Of the cat? animals always were for humor. Sisto was purring happily at the head of his mistress' bed as if to say, 'Are you coming up?' "That is kind of you, Brother. I am...mending. It has not been so well since yesterday, though the pain is duller now than it was on your earlier visit. It felt as though pins were being shoved through every aspect of my flesh through to my bone, other scars were akin to be gutted like a fish. I suspect you would not mind a blunt nor graphic response, but favor it as earnest." She jested, ah, that was indeed exact, "I have not taken a fever, so this is good. Nothing is infected. I merely think it is just the healing itself." (d)


Brother O'Corrain

The good brother was in the midst of taking his own chair over, a polite (and somewhat droll) "Thank you" was said to Bromhilde. At least they warred with jest and such, instead of glares of death and hands. Brother Diarmuid would nod quietly, "...it is to be expected, I think." There was a sigh. Just because it was expected did not mean that he could not wish she did not suffer it. Of course, the moment that the good friar had his chair positioned -- he found a fur ball in it. Quick as a kitten, Claire somehow gained the seat cushion before scrambling across to be beside Sisto. All the while, Claire was mewing (one could almost hear Sisto's name in it), eager to see what fun she and the fuddyduddy could get in to..... whether Sisto wanted to get in to fun or not. Once the seat was clear, the good brother laughed softly. And sat in it. There was a smile, "I have told the lady Viscreed... or do you prefer Monroe?... of my intent to go on pilgrimage soon." He hesitated, "I hope that was alright." (D)


Master Laurence

"Yes it is to be expected." Came the same refrain as she looked down beyond her book to the blankets covering limbs that had gone blue-black from a fall she had not deemed to tell them. She had collapsed after he helped her, and hard


.
Lady Viscreed

"You will get better again, just as you were but days ago, and better than that. You will see. You already do what no one else would. Walk, speak, oversee your house. I dare say we would consider you a marvel." Janice spoke open on the matter of admiration, leaning in to the master's other side of pillows. Claramae turned to tuck a strand of gold hair away while Janice dilly dallied with the brown braid that was her Master's. "That ribbon is of your favorite motto, the motto I think gives you the most strength. Your strength is very Irish. They seem a stout hearted people." Legs curled in to themselves, "Would you not agree Brother?" Was he not full blooded Irish? Sisto had climbed down from his perch, playfully swatting at Claire's ears. (d)


Brother O'Corrain

The playful swat at Claire's ears would set the whole the thing of, with Claire playfully glomping on Sisto. Brother Diarmuid kept a careful eye on them, least they look to pull Clarame into their games. Still, he smiled and would incline to head, "Oh, I most certainly agree to that." There was an incline of his head, "That you are the Grandmaster of the Hall, more than proves that." There was a soft smile, "I have little doubt that you'll be right as rain before too long." Then he smiled, playfully stage-whispering to Clarame, "You know, at the wedding, that she felt so right as rain to take a turn ont he dance flor with me?" It was offered as proof that Clarame was healing -- and healing well. (D)


Lady Viscreed

"You asked the Master to dance? Did you, I didn't see! Julian and I were dancing. Oh my goodness. Did you dance with her.." Janice leaned in to receive this tantalizing piece of news while turning an eye to Claramae.


Master Laurence

"Men of the cloth don't dance, Viscreed, but we did try a little. Maybe it was because it is from where he is from in Ireland. Most clergymen are stone cold sober." To toast a cup of wine to his cup of beer was no small feet. Janice shifted on the bed, causing only a mild wince of the master which brought the girl worry. "It's alright, it is bound to be like that. The fall was harder than anticipated. It just jars what is trying to stay set."


Lady Viscreed

"If you are certain..I do not know what would have happened if anything had truly taken you from this world." She looked at her, only mildly appeased. "Is there nothing that can be done for you? You should look to allowing one of the healersin the household recommend you a personal physician. I know master deAquitaine seems to fill the roll but when he is not about, you should be cared for." Said child to mother "Instead of always seeking to do it yourself. Goodness you are likened unto a physician and alchemist yourself but a fellow takes on a fellow to care for them. "(d)

Brother O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid laughed softly, "I admit to that...we did try." There had been moving of the feet, in something resembling rhythm. It had certainly been entertaining. There was a broad grin, "Must be the part of Ireland I'm from...." There was a playful wink. "Aaat!" He reached out to gently block Claire's way toward Claramae's head. Giving her gentle tap on the nose, to send her back to Stiso. Then he realized what Claramae had said, narrowing his eyes to her. ".....What fall?" Uh-oh. There was never anything good to be gained from keeping that from the good friar! "How badly are you hurt?" He was ready to ring for a servant - Bromhilde, after all, wasn't be wasted on this errand - to go and fetch his bag. (D)

Master Laurence

"We succeeded. Noble women are taught to dance as soon as they walk, priests learn somehow." She chuckled, putting the beautiful motto ribbon inside of the book she read as for the lot to remain on her bedside table. Claire was given a consolitory scratching behind the ears after Corrain's admonishment. Women. Always contradicting the men! "After you helped me to my room. I was fine for a time and then while walking a spasm started, my back wouldn't function a particular way and when I fell I bruised my legs and hip. It sounds worse than it really is, I'm afraid I bruise very easily now...Brother O'Corrain..you shouldn't trouble yourself so.."

Lady Viscreed

"No, let him trouble himself, please? I know you must have applied your cooling things..what are you using.." Her eyes pleaded and begged enough that Claramae consented

Master Laurence

"White willow bark, it also helps with the pain.. Things work better smelled instead of ingested though the white willow bark is in my teas. It is often mixed with other things to ward away internal infections."

Lady Viscreed

Janice slid from the side of the bed "Whatever you need brother but ask, we are well stocked of any herb or items to make your own potions. I will use the master's study, if it please you madame." It did, so she would be ready. Already Janice remained close at hand..watching, waiting. No doubt she'd have to assist if the man wished to see any bruising (d)

Brother O'Corrain

"Then I shall worry," and he would ring for a servant. Already his mind was working, considering what herbs and other medicines that he had on hand. While there was always the poppy and its derivatives, that was a cure of last resort. For brusing.... Hmm. Once his bag was fetched, there would unfold an event so startling that the very house itself would rock! The Mistress Bromhile was thrown out of the Madame's private chambers by the friar. "IhaveverythingundercontrolandtheLadyMonreishelping. Thankyouandgoodbye." Slam! There was a gesture for Jancie to come and give help, for it was for more proper for her to take a peek than it was for the good brother to do so. (Still, one did not often have a lady present....) "Perhaps a compress of herbs? St. John's wart, comfrey, and witch hazel?" He was seeking Janice's opinion the matter. (D)


Lady Viscreed

"That sounds very good, I was thinking to suggest the same thing. More compresses could help make them less tender. The White willow seems to have helped with the pain at least. Madame, may I?" She meant to look upon the bruising. Claramae visibly tensed in such a way it took great control to acknowledge. "I am sorry, I will take great care..I will only show the brother after..

Master Laurence

"Thank you." The fussing, the fidgeting. That Bromheilde was expelled from the room seemed to instantly raise the hair on her neck like the hackles of a cat. "Please let the Lady Bromheilde stay..she has known me fifteen years....when..you are ready..to recall her.." Suddenly she felt that her limbs were starting to go adrift. She instructed Janice to pull the curtain at first while the good brother set up his things.



Lady Viscreed

"Barley seeds, too brother don't you agree..perhaps as a compress along her back for the pain, while the others might be for the legs..I will tell you?" She gently shut the curtain closest to them. There seemed something wrong with this, reversed. Claramae often had done this for her. Who did it for Claramae? Bromheilde, Jean-Claude? She knew Peregrine had once held back her hair as the physicians worked upon extracting the poison and infection out of wounds on her back. Gently she pulled back the covers..making sure a quilt was over the madame's upper legs. She had taken one of the candles to use for light. She shone the candle over the exposed pale limbs. She had never seen them, her master's legs..or the skin beneath her gowns...or the human part. One of her ankles looked swollen, sore from the fall. It was the left. The right shin , the knee, and thigh were covered in bruises..the left hip bone was exposed as she gently lifted the gown."From one fall? Did you hit things...." She whispered softly.


Master Laurence

"A table, a chair I was holding to..I fell to the side, and then rolled over toward the front." It took a command of presence to soften enough to let skin be exposed. She looked like a bruised piece of peach fruit.



Lady Viscreed

"How is your back..may I.." The bruise came to life over a scar. Gently the gown was lifted, Janice supporting her front as she looked at her back. Tears couldn't helped but be formed. Who could do this, to a person? years old yet fresh to her.. she saw the tree of life carved, the hebrew words of elements, of God there on placed. What concerned her eye was the swollen areas of red...but she couldn't help but look at inhumanity. "Your lower backlooks like it hurts the most, that was what opened in your accident yes? And..your neck. That scar there. Oh master.." Gently Janice pulled back the curtains once she was covered enough save for her lower legs first. "Brother O'Corrain if you wish to look..I can help with the other areas..after you see that." She looked under Claramae's armor, now so would he (d)



Brother Diarmuid O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid stilled. ...Oh dear. He looked back toward the curtained bed. Had his ears deceived him? He would turn back toward the closed-curtained bed, "....did the Madame say she wished to have Bromhilde present?" ...This was *not* going to end well. When confirmation was received, he would go to the door and let Bromhilde in. Come one, come all to see the fight of the century! Even as Janice looked over Clarame, the very air seemed to become alive with conflict as the thick-set friar and the impressive Bromhilde faced off. There might even be minced words between them! Eventually, through valor and stubbornness, the good friar would win out. Hurrah! When the curtains parted way, Brother Diarmuid would be found instructing Bromhilde in to how to prepare the necessary herbs and other infusions for the compresses. There was an incline of his head, before he caught sight of the look upon Jancie's face. He would go to her, lightly touching her elbow. Softly, he asked, "You look shaken... is it bad?" Would she tell him all she had seen? Or just nod his head? The good brother was far too polite to go to the extremes of viewing Claramae's body as Jancie had, but would rely upon Jancie's inspection. By and large, he would allow Bromhilde and Janice to tend to the areas of the Madame's hurts that were not for the view of the male sex. (Save her husband, of course.) If nothing else, Jancie would gain some of a physician's training from the evening. (D)

Lady Viscreed

Bromehielde wasn't a fool when it came to tending her madame, in fact she knew as much about preperations it seemed as she did about arranging wardrobes, hair, or ordering about servants. There would be only squabble now about the amount or of certain additions. By the end he had won some of Bromheilde's respect by allowing to tend the Madame in the first place. It seemed that as much as personal relationships were distanced, so were things like this. What was it to merely bring someone close enough to be trusted to touch you? The Bavarian was silent as she had gathered the requisite herbs. When she was touched by Diarmuid she nodded. Turning, she adjusted the Madame's legs to be covered again, the curtain drawn again. "It is strange to see strength so hurt, that's all. It is silly. My masters aren't invicible. They have always seemed that way to me. I understand the nature of what they do, what must be done, yet they are not vicious for the sake of it. There are marks there from viciousness for the sake of it. It is wrong. It is awful." She whispered. "The bruising you'd wish to know about that. I wonder if she bruises if she is merely brushed against somedays. Her skin did not seem at all thin but perhaps it is." A great lesson indeed. Was it wanted? The curtains were drawn on the one side while all was applied to the wounds. "Perhaps you could look at her lower leg, one of them. Then if you wish I could describe what else I saw." She crossed herself, "It looks like it would be very painful" (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There would be a sigh, an incline of his head. "I think it for the best....the more I know of her hurts, the better I can treat them." Would Claramae be relieved, when at last Brother Diarmuid got to seeing her hurts for himself? There none of that 'turn the head away and try to do the job' nonsense, he would be a physician first -- and beg forgiveness later. It was to the bruises on her legs that he tended, looking upon her left leg and doing what he could. As he bandaged it, he raised his eyes to Claramae's and said but two words: "Bed rest." Although, in truth, it was said more for Bromhilde - since he knew Bromhilde would enforce it upon the lady. And he would spend much of his time then, seeing to Claramae's bruised legs. And, depending on the severity of her other wounds - usually with the imput of Janice and Bromhilde - he would see to those as well. How long would the day go, as he tended her hurts? At some point, there had been a scolding, "You've been putting this off, Madame....Do not do so again." And yet...was Claramae surprised to see it shot through with true worry? (D)



Lady Viscreed

"Yes of course." He would find Janice there to guide him where a physician's hands should go based on the guidance of what she knew from form. He would gain it for himself. Holy men would flush later in the face by a physician so aptly trained learned to disuade one flesh piece from another. His patient was good to him, not fighting, never complaining. Janice went to crawl on the bed from the other side, lending her hand to settle the warmed barley against her back.

Master Laurence

Claramae watched his skill, "You do not wrap like a European. Benedictins get more credit for their medicinal skill than Augustinians, but not all I wager, have had the study you have had." Was that a compliment? She adjusted herself a little as to cease from being stiff in one direction, "No, you are right. I have. I have been better of maintaining my healing ministrations to continue improvement but there has been much to address of late. I will strive to be improved lest the Brother chastize me again." His worry earned a genuine look of amazement. He really was genuinely that concerned? In earnest she thought after his pilgrimage he would surely leave them, not that she blamed him, too dark to truly be saved. Often she wondered if God had ever wanted to turn his face. There in the light, Janice noticed how far the scar from the back of her neck came to the front. It would take a weathered eye. "It's alright, that one gives me no trouble. You can not even notice it save how close you are, and it is not as my back nor legs will ever be on public display." Not under all of the layers of fabric she wore, tasteful, elegant, and proper. Until the last pair of years her neck was always covered. Only in the Italian style of gown did one even have a chance to marvel at the construction of the neck, or a neckline's ingenius working the feminity of the chest. "It is...strange to be so touched. By you." She wasn't asking him away, merely settling on the fact he did it at all. Let alone out of want. "It is an effect of years, touched or touching. Touch has been pleasurable and companionable to me, yet it has also procured visitations of extreme violence. It reminds me of being cornered."


Lady Viscreed

"You touch me, and others touch you now, so you are good to alleviate yourself of it..completely. At least within the house as you have so tried to change in other things? I know this view of you, my sweet master, is not for all." She understood why she was possesive then of anyone even having laid a hand on herself in her youth. Only the most skilled hands, only the best of everything. Only the most capable, only the understanding. "What think you of the bruising, Brother O'Corrain?" (d)


Brother O'Corrain

What would the Madame make of the Augustinian chuckling? "I should hope that I do not wrap as a European would...." He smiled up at them, before turning back to his work. "Even the thought of doing so causes the image of my late master, Adbual-Nasir Jabir, to form before my eyes. I can still picture how stern he would like." There was another soft laugh, before he continued, "....and the Benedictines are not without their due. My order was originally a Benedictine one. One of the last Grandmasters guided us to the Rule of the Blessed Augustine." That had been some time in the last hundred years. There was a thoughtful pause, as he finished wrapping one leg... before turning his attention to the other. "I cannot help, Madame.... but think of our last conversation. Of wants...and needs." He was quiet for a long while, "It is your want that you should be as aloof and untouchable... But is your need to be closer to the earth and touchable." He was quiet again, before raising his eyes to her. "I do swear now, and before God, that I shall never touch in such away as to make you feel uncomfortable." Quiet avow, for our good friar.Once he had finished binding her legs in the herbal compresses, he would nod his head. The work had been completed and satisfactory done too. To the Lady Monroe, he would say, "They are deep, but already show signs of a day's healing. They shall cause stiffness, undoubtedly, but that it be expected of bruises. They shall. In good time...and as long as Madame obeys her physician's orders." In this case, it was more of a priest-physician. There was a turn toward Bromhilde, a quirk of his eye. Ah. He caught on quiet quick, knowing that the formidable woman would turn her attention to making the Madame behave. (D)

Master Laurence

"You have had an education any 10 year physician of the continent would envy, instead of reading the works of Greecians and Moors, you have studied with them. Ahh, and your order. I see some things remain the same even as the doctrine changes. Well done sir. It is admirable." She watched the compress' effects on the skin, watched as they were wrapped by bandages to hide her skin. She settled back against the bag of barley, the stacked pillows behind. For an instant her eyes surrendered to the heavy feeling and closed. Not for sleep, no, but of comfort. Hazel revealed again showed a look of contentment. Rare peace. "Want and need. In some ways Brother O'Corrain you are correct. It is tedious and dangerous, in our profession, to be touched. Yet my Master emphasized our human components, the things that made us people above all else. It is why he insisted Sorschal and I remain paired even after he was free of his old hurts. For years only he, my master, Bromheilde and Maxamillion ever touched me. When we lose those few we trust and care for, it does not extend either want or need.The years have not been kind, and those here that have were also wrapped about toil. There comes a point beyond pride, merely guarding one's self. It is not a short discussion so I do not know if tonight you would wish to hear it, but I will say that as I have ceased many vile people in pursuit of crowns or kingdoms, I have had vile things done to me. It would have been easier to injest were they for the same causes. They were not. It was all volatile, for the sake of murder, and obsessions. Perhaps I still do have a need to be touched, as you've a need to remind us that we are still worthy to be touched .So Christ can love a rich woman as easily as a mute one, or a blind one." So referring to their earlier conversations. It was not so easy for the rich to come to heaven. She felt a little closer to grace now (d)


Brother O'Corrain

There was little doubt that Augustinian was deep in thought, as he moved back toward his seat. There was a slight bow to his head, as he reached out to scratch Claire between the ears. Once the kitten had purred, to show that her human had done good, Claire would venture forth on Claramae's bed. The kitten was ever mindful to be cautious, for the new bag of warm barley and wrappings were new...and tantalizing. After Claire had satisfied herself that yes, her human had done well (and she gave him the weighty praise of a 'mew'), she would head back toward he bag of barley....and set about what she did best: om noming on it and playing at it with her claws. Brother Diarmuid would nod his head quietly, "There is truth to what you say..." There was a soft smile. One that grew a bit as he said, "....I still intend to voyage to Iona." The smile turned in to a full one, one that reached his eyes. "But it shall be less than I had first thought." So it did not seem that he would take his leave of the Hall on his return. After all, were there still not many here who required both his guidance and his care? (D)

Master Laurence

"You shouldn't allow this to cease any length in your pilgrimage. Even you deserve to seek God in peace. While you are gone I will have to tend carefully to myself lest on your return the physician overtakes the priestand scolds me bitterly." For the rest of their days she would have deep respect for Diarmuid.

Lady Viscreed

The little one listened, taking in all that was done and said. Janice laughed at little Claire, picking her up from the bag of barley seed to put her on her lap, appeasing the lack of thing to play with by rubbing and scratching. "That isn't for you," she cautioned with a wry grin. "Thank you Brother. I feel much better in knowing you've cared for her properly tonight. It is just another way you bring peace of mind." Who cared for those that used their body to care for others? Claramae was not a woman one could attribute to what love was, but she had always said all was done of perfect love and perfect service. Such a price to pay (d)

Brother O'Corrain

Janice would needs be gentle, for one could almost see the 'Nuuu!' on Claire's cute features. She had indeed gotten her claws tangled in the fabric of the sack, but if Janice was easy enough she could indeed safely free Claire fromthe bag. And then Claire promptly forgot all about the bag of barley seed did not give her the attention Janice was offering. Rather 'resignedly,' Clare would submit to the rubbing and scratching. Even favoring Janice with puuuring. Brother Diarmuid would smile softly, "It means much to me, Madame, that you would say so... but I wish to know that there are many that I care for here." Not only in the sense of health care, but of a (chaste) familiarity with. He was growing quiet fond of Claramae. There was a smile to Janice, "It is, indeed, what I am here to do." He would grin broadly at Claramae, "And never fear.... my order allows me to chastise as a physician-priest ought." Oh bugger. There went any hope of claiming him solely a priest or physician. (D)

Lady Viscreed

In due time the Madame succumbed to the warmth of the herbs, the care of a friend. Her eyes shut in more than mere ease as her breathing slackened off without the need for strong antidotes to bring on a dreamless, black pit of sleep. Like a dutiful daughter Janice saw her covers drawn up. All the curtains were closed. Gentle hands plucked up the reading light to extinguish the flame. "Good night.." A soft fire now glowed humble, soon to go down to embers. Only when both where outside of the room with Bromhielde inside to resume a steady watch did Janice turn to speak again. "I believe the Madame has grown fond of you, in so short a time. That is extraordinary. Yet so good, so very good. She was in so much pain." (d)

Brother O'Corrain

If the bed was sufficiently wide, Brother Diarmuid would aide in the task of tucking the Grandmaster in for as long as she was in sleep's embrace. Once they were both outside, he would ease the door closed after offering a quiet, "Good night, Madame. Blessed dreams." to the room. Once the door would close, he would smile as he sat Claire down to play. Aww. She pouted, since Stiso had remained behind with his human. The Augustinian would smile, "Hmm. Then there is no harm in saying that I have grown fond of her as well." There was a slight incline of his head, further down the hall. He cared not where it lead, save that it was away from the Grandmaster's bed chamber. He did not want to risk waking her. As they walked, Claire sulking behind, he would say, ".... I have oft sought her ought. For I have felt adrift, in all things." He glance down, before looking up with a smile. "I think... with the Madame's words... that I shall find myself anchored again after my pilgrimage to Iona." (D)

Lady Viscreed

"I am glad it will give you peace. It must be so unsettling, moving from one life to another like that..so long at one. The outer world is hard enough as it is without all of this." Hands lifted, touching the finery on the walls. Watching the fabric, paint and stone glitter in the dark like jewels. The home was a jewel - within a chest -within another jewel. "Madame gives wonderous advice, it is good she may count you among her advice seekers and advice givers. To go on, to have left one form of thing behind yet to continue another. I think she finds it hard to slow completely. Even here she is ever moving, ever doing something. Her scars were so wicked. How good it is to be loved then, for her husband does very much so. Everyone knows that Master Vincere, the Duke, has had such a favor for his wife. He followed her you know, militantly In Avaria she was oddly his superior in militant rank, not merely social. He has wanted her to know peace in exchange for service. These last few years it has been fire and brimstone, so to speak. She says the Scotts are doubly as Violent as Avarians, and they were quite violent while the kingdom stood. I had never accounted for how much pain she was in, until I saw that." (d)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Black Omens and Fire:[/color] The Taking of Monroe

Master deAquitaine

And he called out with a mighty voice, “Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great! She has become a dwelling place for demons, a haunt for every unclean spirit, a haunt for every unclean bird, a haunt for every unclean and detestable beast. -Revelation 18:2 The eve of his wedding and come and gone passing well into night, and the father had spent his night at the bedside of a most beloved son. In the midst of the night Julian had taken the Lady Inveryne into his grasp but not once touched her. Blood stained her berry colored gown, and pooled on the carpets--it was his own. The Ebony Hall then remained awake as the news spread quickly of the sedation of the Master Monroe, and his attack on Rosalind. The blood filled rumors it was her own, and even the streets would soon whisper like spells cast over the crowd of the wicked ways of the Talons. In the midnight hour Jean-Claude stood by his son's bare flesh as he stripped the youth to reveal the carving of his flesh by edge of a dull blade. It was when Mouse opened his shirt did Jean-Claude fall to his knees with his hand covering his mouth to compress a sob. "Go get Brother O'Corrain." He could hardly breath as the pentagram was so clear upon the youth's chest. Mouse stood there with wide eyes looking down on another's husband, and his bare flesh. Yet, it was not the natural state of his body that brought color to her cheeks. "Go. Go get a man of God. Get every man of God. Get me the army of God!" He finally shouted at the end. Beyond himself now with the truth that he could not fix this with science. In French he wept as he pointed out the other lines upon his son's skin where he had marked himself. "Jesus Christ, move!" Mouse finally snapped from her stance and quickly ran as fast as little feet could carry her. (d

Master Laurence

You tried to warn me, but I did not heed. I thought to have heeded, but in truth it was still with a half heart applied to all your logic, all your senses unified where mine were seperated. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. No rest. No rest for the weary-worn as all thoughts of an end in sight were smote out as easy as candle light between two fingers pinched. All the day the sun had a strange rim of darkness 'round it, and the moon rose with omnious blood red tinge. Meticulous minds of science knew the sun wasn't the center of the universe, that it was the earth around which all things revolved. All liberated from the guise of supersticion should have all the answers in the world to unlock the door of mystery; or could it be said that the mind of science, minds metal bent understood the conditions manifested an explaination toward the greatest hypothesis of all: Was there a God? The Madame's mind was perplexed by all the numbers unable to calculate anything of this magnitude! How many wars would they fight only to be torn apart from the inside out? How many things done on behalf of a crown before the crown broke, and their heads went under axes? "I have no idea how this began, or why it was started! Who knew of their affiliation at any rate, who knew? Who marred their civic covers? I want to know, know, and what. Quickly! You must do everything to mask those remaining in the court. If it is too dangerous tell them to retreat to their estates. If they can't, we have no choice but to put them here. NO, everyone is culpable do this or we unravel quicker. Keep me a messenger! I must be ready to bring word to their majesties if necessary..that rumor is not true." Order after order articulated as the quick steps of the mongoose wanted to seek out the cobra to eat, but, how could she. What was it? Where. The rumos were enough to seize a heart. The world spoke of them, revealing mystery after mystery. Could ignorance not be bliss? Was there a God, yes..yes..but how many trials? "Fetch everyone, every master..where is deAquitaine? Inveryne...find me word on them this silence of them, in all this rumor, will not do!" Her voice split the mind of the journeymen, richoceted through the noviates declared ready enough to follow them as additional men. What had happened, where were they? Why was blood being spilled among their family- and to the horror- could it have been of family, against the same? "Have you found Viscreed, where is she...tell me she was not with them.." Though it would be better than this stabbing ache of more unknown facts. "She is not in the castle, nor is she along the row.." "SHE IS SOMEWHERE!" (d)! Either I


Brother O'Corrain

Crux sacra sit mihi lux. Words unspoken save for the voice of the mind, crafting a fitting prayer. For even know, a humble crucifix was bathed in the flickering, warming light of two beeswax candles perched in handmade wooden bowls on either side. Fingers moved from forehead to solar plexus. There was noise outside. A brief flash of annoyance crossed the face of Brother Diarmuid. Hand moved them from right shoulder to left shoulder. Louder, now, were the voices. Another flash of annoyance. Brother Diarmuid bowed his head. The door burst open, there was a neophyte there. And someone that he did not know. "I am sorry, Brother Diarm --" "You must come quick, Brother! Something terrible has happened!" DeAquatine's messenger interrupted, "Come quick! ...There's so much blood, brother." Brother Diarmuid would rise, something the messenger's voice harrowing his soul. There were shouts. Noiseoutside. Without a moment's pause, Brother Diarmuid would nod and said, "Then led us on!" And so he would go, racing after the messenger in the direction of the noise. Grabbing up his medical satchel along the way. (D)


Master Laurence

"The guard needs to be placed across ever vantage point, and even below. No one but those sanctioned are allowed to leave." No demon could be more lavicious, more cruel or lusty of blood than the fickle course of public opinion could it? This was wasn't known but if the discourse was saying this was the work of a Talon, it might be traced. Her mind churned three times its standard pace already quicker than mere mortal thoughts. Ten thoughts for two and a half worth a trifle. "Have a carriage and horses at the ready, in case. Voltaire - anything?" She turned to the most trusted man beneath God, just a sliver above the other men in her life. He shook his head. There she ran her hands in visible sign of distress. "If they were in distress it is not like them to be quiet! Inveryne wanted no more of it, she was eyes only! deAquitaine is discrete, Monroe..was there something he told us that I wanted to believe better of, was I a fool.. what if he." She swallowed the lump in her throat as the thought echoed in her brain what if the boy had killed his master and Inveryne? What if he marred them. She began to pace, to consider, turning her head up she saw O'Corrain emerging down the stairs. "Brother, your neophytes, you have not sent them out on errands of mercy this night? If so we must have all of them pulled within the house immediately..for their protection! Voltaire..find out about them if you can, and for christ's sakes find the girl...Brother, there is talk..bloody talk of...the Lady Inveryne, deAqutaine, and Monroe.." (d)

Brother O'Corrain

The Augustinian brother near tripped down the stairs, "Madame! What goes on? The whole house is in an up roar!" There was a ..harsh word... said, as he tucked the trailing edge of his habit in to the belt about his waist. "That much I know, not else!" He was too busy trying to keep sight of the messenger who was leading the way. There was a distracted, "All of them should be in their cells or at Matins!" Only the Brother and his neophytes kept the Holy Hours so late. There was a grim sit to the good brother's usually cheerful expression. In his experience? Blood talk often spawned...or was spawned.... by bloody act. (D)

Mistress Mouse

Mouse had been a nun in England, a servant to Oxford as well a servant to God. She loved life, and she was full of it with eager open eyes and a sweet sweet smile, "This way Brother. Come. I'll take you to him." She had been by Jean-Claude since the care of Woodstock. "It alright! He has the Young Master under control. He sleeps. He sleeps is all." She looked between the two with hopeful eyes that they would call away the guards. It had been hard to watch them detain him, but like a cat he calmed under the palm of his Master, finding rest then.

Master deAquitaine

In that moment Jean-Claude emerged from the room, his head in his hand as his eyes pounded needing a moment, and needing air. "He is asleep." He took a deep breath looking as though he had fought a war all over again, and the stress burning holes in his heart. "Where is Janice?" He asked Claramae, but soon found the hall giving way to the Brother, "Brother Diarmuid thank you for coming on such short notice. Can I get you anything?" Typical Frenchman to offer his hospitality even in the most dire situations, though his hand was upon his heart as if at any moment it would give out. (d

Master Laurence

She followed Mouse, content to know that where there was, it was at least within quarters. Still, why were the streets already whispering of it? Her mind would know no peace. "Mon Dieu.." her mouth lapsed to French without thought as the name of the Lord was taken in vein. Look at him. He was worse than when he had all but unraveled before the fountain. How could she collect these pieces. Maybe this was why O'Corrain was the Master of the Spirit. This was why God had delivered him here "Look at you.." She whispered to Jean-Claude. With no word spoken as to it being done she went to him and offered her support, putting an arm around her shoulders, her others around his torso. "I have sent Voltaire out for Janice. I am certain he will have her here soon." Her eyes looked to Diarmuid - get him to say what happened they silently instructed, if not pleaded.


Lady Viscreed

A husband's ways are those of the world where a wife sits by the fireside always waiting. Needle moving in and out, the clock chiming, still she waits. Supper gives way to breakfast again, to supper..still she waits. An apple sit on the table with a knife half through it abandoned in a hasty decision to defy the convention. She was not to be what she was not. He had told her that. It was not like him to not come home, and since daybreak the wife who should wait became the one who would act. By now her hair was looser in its ribbon, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Where are you... she worried. If only God could keep his angels ignorant but if they were, how would they serve man kind? She knewsomething was wrong - guardian shadows over rooftops joined with the normal forms. The streets were hush with glowing eyes, the world a rumble. The last place she thought to go suddenly became the first. "What is wrong?" She looked up to a roof. Poor thing - they'd say - speaking to herself after being so worried. The pair seemed so strange, not one now but two since the dress maker's son came to live with the book keeper. "What is wrong!?" No one would say until Voltaire found her at the beginning again, an ending for her after having been everywhere all day. Every street, every alley. Above, below. Even the crossroads they had gone to view the leaves. "Master Voltaire. what is wrong..what is the whispering..why are there so many out.." He captured her hand..telling her on the way (d)


Brother O'Corrain

"Yes!" Brother Diarmuid said shortly, "You can get me to where I need to go!" As for giving way to the Brother... it was a wise move! Despite his vows of poverty, the friar had a build that harkened to a love of good beer (after all, Saint Augustine was patron saint of brewers) and good food... and would have bowled over any who stood in his way. "I am summoned urgently here, while bloody talk is in the air! Bloody talk goes with bloody deeds, Master deAquatine! You can tell me what has happened -- and take me where I am needed!" (D)

Master deAquitaine

Jean-Claude was a mess, and on the night before his wedding of all nights. How could he even face Adelaide with the news of this night when all that he could do was worry himself over how the sky was about to bleed. "Come.." He whispered against Claramae's hair needing to be grounded as he had with Rosalind. He felt horrible for leaving her in the study but he had to tend to Julian. "Come, see for yourself." He turned to Mouse, "Please, some water, ma cher,." Mouse would return some time later with what they would need, but for now she would find her way down the hall. "Come inside." The door opened, with the fire burning brightly in the hearth, and the lanterns there by his bed to guide him home when the hour grew late, and the world far too dark. Julian slept as if he were under glass; upon his back with his arms on either side. The cool thin sheet was pulled over his bare chest and his flesh looked as pale as the icy color of the fabric. He looked like he was hardly breathing, and his lips were blue. Jean-Claude went instantly to his side and heaved a heavy breath as he took the youth's hand. His fingers were cold, but the rest of his body ran hot even though he shivered with the exhale of his breath. "I have him heavily sedated. He injured three of the guards on the struggle to get him down here." Trained too well now, and too fast. The first sign of the boys wounds came with scabbing of a line over his bicep where he had pulled the blade over his skin. Slowly Jean-Claude pulled the cover back over his naked chest to reveal the only cut that seemed to form a symbol--a pentagram over his heart, everything else seemed at random. Jean-Claude kept hold of Julian's hand while brushing back his hair from his apprentice's face, "He attacked Rosalind they said, came at her with a knife and in this he was hurt in the struggle, but until this." He motioned to Julian's chest, "I can not believe. It is no ordinary cut." He looked to Claramae and begged her, "She can not see this." (d*


Master Laurence

"Of course, of course I will come.." Claramae spoke to him as if he were a child in need of comfort. All of the world stripped to the essence; no work of man alone could combat flesh turned to instrument against its maker. She hadthought it a mark of delerium caused by unrest - yet - the metaphysical had aspects even the great humanists coming of the age did study. Every faith pondered the divine in story, wrote down esoteric for practice. Condemened or lauded. What if it weren't fiction? She listened to Jean-Claude as described the scenario rumor had laid out. It began to color even her face with white edges. Three guards? What had she helped to create, allowed to be manufactured Three guards more senior than him? Hands that should hold nothing more than seeming air held up the weight of a man, and when he pulled back the sheet, she gripped on him all the more. "Oh Jesus, oh my God - what is in his mind.. his soul.." She had no answer for this. The Great Master, speechless. As he began to plead she would rub his shoulders to soothe him..


Lady Viscreed

"La Bella, wait! Where have you been, tell me your story now..have you been looking for him? You look tired child..the masters are with him..Janice please.." Once within the hall he rued the amount of talking that went on to enflame any story. He hadn't realized how quick she was! When did she get so quick as to nearly keep on par with him? He could only follow at her heels, catching her on the way to Jean-Claude's tower by a fraction of an instant.."Master Voltaire, let me go. That is my husband. Not my lover, my husband." Clear, concise words near froze him in place. Common-law could not possibly win La Bella's heart. In this they had been blind to attribute youth's want to follow desire. In that moment, she looked every inch her father's daughter. Determined, unquestioned. He nodded,taking her by the hand at least and bringing her up in to the room. "I am sorry to interrupt..but I found her..." What as being covered..he crossed himself. "Janice, do not look." Merely seeing him as she was? She had looked enough. Then to Jean-claude being held up by Claramae. "Tell me it isn't true....it isn't...." She breathed as if already poised to not believe them anyway. "Julian. I looked everywhere.." She bit at the back of her hand, before moving closer, kneeling near the head of his bed. "Jean-Claude I couldn't find him. I'm so sorry.." It wasn't her fault but she felt like she failed.(d)

Brother O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid would glance quick to Jean-Claude. There was a moment's pause, before he quietly Crossed himself. "What did you sedate him with?" Even as he asked, Brother Diarmuid moved toward the bed. He would sit his medical satchel down...and began checking Julain's vitals. Brother Diarmuid would put his hear over Julian's heart, his hand held just above Julian's mouth. Once he was satisfied that the young Master still drew breath, he nodded. A bottle of antiseptic was fetched from it and uncorked, before he began to gently put it on a clean cloth. That was when he would hear the sounds of Lord Voltaire and the Lady Viscreed, "Bar the door, she does not need to see the young Master in such a state! Bar the door, I ---" And it was too late. He sighed softly. Then he went back to tending Julian's wounds. The good brother began to clean the wounds with his antiseptic herbal concoction, cleaning away old scab and doing what he could As he did so, he looked up to Master deAquatine. Softly, he said, "You and I shall speak with one another....when this is done." Then he went back to Julain's wounds. Once he haddressed and bandages Julain's wounds, Brother Diarmuid would put his kit back together. Then he would usher the Madame and the Lady Viscreed out, before motioning the Lord Voltarie in. "There are many things here that give me grave cause for concern...." He was speaking of the rumors. But what deAquatine had said, worried him too. For he remembered the Book of Acts.... "I know that young Master Monroe is your apprentice, Master deAquatine.... but you will heed *my* words on this matter." Quietly, he looked at Julain's form. Then back to the other man, "I would see him sedated....and restrained... He is *never* to be alone. These are the commandments I set down, to be followed until I say otherwise." He looked quietly again at Julain. Before he said, "Poor soul...." He shook his head. (D)

Master deAqutaine

"Shhh no ma petite..shh" He kissed the top of the Angel's hair before he moved away from her. Jean-Claude would cross his arms over his chest for fear of his insides spilling out he had simply been shocked by the entire thing, and there had been a great deal of him that would have been insulted to see his work questioned. Jean-Claude was one of the very few if not the only to have studied under every university money could buy. "I will do as you say, but tell me your prognosis? What is it that plagues him?" Was it Spain? Was it a demon? It really was too soon to tell, but something was very wrong with his apprentice, "A case study once spoke of a man who heard voices in his head by way of the mind breaking down, but I fear it is worse." Would the Brother look around him then of the wall of body parts in glass jars, and chains hanging from the ceiling of the tower next to cages that swung back and forth with dark feathered birds that pulled skin from the flesh of dead men. *This* was the mind of madness, but unlike Julian Jean-Claude had a deep faith, and an appreciation of the power of hell. Yet...he had no doubt he was going there. The Master had tools of trades not meant for medicine, but somehow worked hand in hand with those that would. Was he even alive? When his eyes didn't reflect much light or seemed as matte as they were now it was hard to tell. "I can restrain him." With iron cuffs if need be..Adelaide loved them. (d


Lady Viscreed

" I wanted to find you, Papa. I wanted to tell you he seemed worse...I couldn'..hurt you anymore." Janice wanted to confess every sin if it meant God would have mercy on deAquitaine and his son. She kissed Julian's forehead before obeying the dismissal. Part of her wanted to remain resolute . Stubborn, loyal to the man on that bed beyond his last breath enough to be his living effigy. She moved slowly, Claramae waiting for her at the door.

Master Voltaire

It was Voltaire who gently captured her shoulders, "Go. Let the Master tend you, and the Brother will tend him. Good hands he has around him, La Bella, si?" Obviously he was more Italian than German. The next words came in that language, bittersweet romance getting her to move. He promised to relay to her what was said if no one else would tell her. This seemed to give her leave to shake her head. He kissed her forehead, and sent her on. Dark business it was, darker all the more by what was said "In Genoa, they spoke of a man who pulled at his own tongue, clawed out his eyes and kept speaking in Latin of the end of the world. Tell me, Brother, is it like that...is this..a taking by something foul? He carved the mark of the devil in to himself." Either he was psychotic or that was the only valid reason. "I will come to watch him myself, Jean-Claude. I will find another as well, to guard him" He crossed himself before looking down at his student.


Master Laurence

Behind a sealed door the women went and she felt herself torn in half by her sex. Half of her remained in that room, listening. Wanting to listen. The other half of it held a young woman in her arms. "Let them do what must be done, child. We are a house of masters, we have a master of God. It will be mended." So she hoped. Janice locked her arms around her neck, and shook so hard Claramae had to hold doubly so just to calm her. Jean-Claude was right. The girl would become nothing, and Julian? He didn't mean to. (d)



Brother O'Corrain

Brother Diarmuid, who had been lost in thought, had not yet noticed the 'decor' of the surroundings. Then he jerked suddenly, aware of the dangling body parts and caged carrion eaters enjoying their feast. His response was a - by comparison - was a sedate. "Hrumph." A glance to deAquatine, a disapproving shake of his head (which managed to convey 'Necromancer'). Then he sighed softly, turning to gazed in the fireplace as he clasped his hands behind his back. At length, he at last said, ".....I do wonder, kind sirs, if your eye was ever caught by the weave of a spider's web...." Fitting for such a location as this and for the task that the Ebon Talon was called upon to do. "...When the morning dew is still upon them, they shone so brightly in the light. In their design, it is easy to see the hand of God.... They are small...intricate...and fragile. With but a careless gesture, we may sunder them to the winds... " There was cant of his head, as he turned to face the other Masters. "Does that remind you of what we know of the human mind? It is a complex thing, for we think... it is marvelous, for we create art...and it isfragile, for we may never note when a mind is sundered." There was a pause, as he turned to consult the flames once again. "....and yet... what I have heard this night makes me think of the Scriptures...of the Acts of the Apostles...and the Gospel of Mark....." He took a breath before saying, "...as yet, I can only tend to his physical hurts... I like proper insight to speak of his mind....of his soul." He looked back to them, "I would rather it be madness...than..." His voice trailed off. But his nervous tick showed, as he worked his rosary beads through his hand. In the pit of his stomach, he knew... but named it not. (D)

Master deAquitaine

Brother spoke to his heart in that moment, as if listening to the master's very thoughts, "Do not keep them from this. Let them hear." He would let Voltaire open the door as the large sheets still covered the orrery they moved with the breeze casting a rather ominous glow to the entire matter. "Oh pish posh. It is simply stress Brother." Right? He was second guessing himself the one true, "I would like for you to speak to him Brother. Perhaps try to get through to him the good word." Jean-Claude brushed his hands through Julian's hair noting the length and how he had known Julian to never keep it this long. He couldn't stand the way it tickled the back of his neck. "It is simply the stress of it all, nothing more." He smiled to Janice lying to her in that moment, but it was a comforting gesture to want so badly for her to understand what the world had done to her in the place of being so cruel. "Look here, your husband rests." Husband? So he knew? "Come, Mon Ange, Be at his side." Moving then he would let Julian go long enough to see the Brother by the fire. "Let us save that thought for the very end." It was almost a threat at how he spoke of the Brother calling his boy damned, though he in fact almost knew the truth. This was a real worry of Jean-Claude's and a deep seeded fear that he had in fact once been marked with the burns of the flesh. (d


Master Laurence

"There, there. How we underestimate you so. So strong you are, my child, so strong. Look, they open the door now.." The remnants of the last few words would reach her hearing. Had not Diarmuid and she flirted with that idea inconversation while drinking Avignon wine, ruling that science should have place over supersticion yet giving supersticion its due in truth? She wanted to step inside, Janice, yet to hear Jean Claude called Julian by what she was to her. It paralyzed the girl. "He is not cross with you, look. He wants you to go..go then. Be a dutiful daughter and wife." She led the girl in with her..letting her go as she found the strength to go on. Claramae went over to her brother, gently rubbing at his back. Whatever was decided as a measure let it not be said here - not yet. Protecting the ears of the angel was a fool's errand for she always found things out sooner or later. It was what she was born to do. Trained better to do. Gently she leaned in to Jean-Claude's ear, for him, and him alone.

Lady Viscreed

"Oui.." For the first time that night she gave Jean-Claude even a ghost of a smile. A warm, rich hint of what it truly was still haunted the outskirts, touched the center. Timid feet went across the floor, over to the Master before she kissed his weathered cheek. Only to turn, gently taking Diarmuid's hands and doing the same, "Merci." Validated in this knowledge, a weight came off her shoulders. No more hiding, no more worry. No more fear in that. Actions spoke louder than words. He would know but she would tell him herself again. Should Julian live through this she would let him do whatever it pleased to see them Cathedral promised. For now, the man she was promised to devoid of any finery, merely simplistic kneeling in a slanted Spanish church of mud brick received all her attention. Her fingers caressed his hair as she took a chair beside him. Heaven only knew it would take convincing to make her leave the spot later (d)


Brother O'Corrain

In an instant, the air of the 'jolly friar' was back around Brother Diarmuid. "De rien," he smiled at her. There was a cant of his head, "When are you going to allow me the privilege of officiating the ceremony, hmm?" There was a smile. Yet, above the Lady Viscreed's head, his eyes darkened and caught the Lord Voltaire's gaze. Then a incline of his head toward the door. As he and Lord Voltaire went to the halls, Brother Diarmuid would say only, ".....thenlet us pray that the end has not passed without our noting." And on that cheery thought, he and Lord Voltaire would moved into the hall. "While Master Monroe recovers...and the Lady Viscreed keeps his bedside....see to it that she is accompanied. Master Monroe is not himself atpresent....." And he greatly feared that the Lady Viscreed could be hurt. (D)

Master Voltaire

"Sometimes you need a ray of light in a dark world, no? If it is a madness, or anything more..she may calm him, with the same aplum as his father. I would rather her not there at all but we can not keep a wife from her husband. At least..not yet. I will see she isn't alone. Personally, most times. She will be not any other place unless it is to pray now, you know that. At least deAquiaine took it well." Of the marriage. Not that it was not public knowledge yet it was good to know that the boy was not keeping La Bella as a mistress. He would have waited for him to rise then only to slice him to pieces. La Bella was no man's whore. He stood waiting for Claramae, wondering if she would follow them. :"I do not know how much of this any of them can stand. It has been a long year already. They should be dead." He worried at his right temple with the nail of his forefinger. "Both of them, but they put one another together. Now you, perhaps you will do a good thing within this..triangle formation. Hold them aloft was each withers. deAquitaine is not a young man, having my own son this could kill a father. "Now, Diamante.." This was his word for claramae, as was Jean-Claude's, 'Diamond'. "Is not as old as him but she is not so young as to be so resiliant. As you care for the boy you must watch them as well, learn, as they have of each other. Signs of wear. Who can stand to what, when the beaking point is. This is a task all do of one another. Both of them will kill themselves for the rest of us, I live a little longer to see this not happen, perhaps you do too." He would pat the brother's shoulder. "I will help you. You are very knowledgable in your way, praise God .You were chosen for that, as we were for this." (d)

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

ii.

“There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills.” - Prince Gautama Siddharta

Young Master Monroe

The dawn broke in the early hours with the world alive under the closed lids of the Young Master Monroe whose hands were not bound under the leather straps, but body ached with being stagnant for so long. For all the night he slept so deep, with dreams no longer plagued of demons and fire, but of children and angels. It was of this he last dreamt before his eyes started to flutter under his closed eyes. The world came crashing down as he brought with it reality, and finally ice colored eyes opened to see the new morning. Confusion turned as he felt his wife beside him, but this was not their home. Where was he? And what was going on? Voltaire slept in the chair in the corner, and for a moment he thought it was Jean-Claude. It hurt that it wasn't. He felt so weak, and his mouth was dry; with this he knew he had been asleep a long time, but as he started to sit up in the bed he felt himself shake until he was pressed back down. (d

Lady Viscreed

People beyond the tower were highing themselves to a life led by the rhythm of the church bells. Masses would begin soon. Good wives would be veiling their heads to walk through the cathedral, holy water on their fingertips. Husbands would conduct them, then to market, to the table with friends. A world around them went on ignorant of the little tower where the blood birds called between themselves for bits of flesh to eat. How odd dawn shone in with such beauty through the body parts in jars. Janice had fallen asleep kneeling beside him. Her skirts splayed out, the golden sun was alive in the soft strands across Julian's hands. It had been so long since she slept, she simply fell away from all consciencness. When had she come in to the bed itself? All she knew was when she came to her kneels were tucked under her. A hand gently at his shoulder as she rushed up far too fast to keep him from moving. "Shhh...you're hurt. Just lay down." Thank you God, she thought. Thank you for letting him see the morning. Her forehead touched his (d)

Young Master Monroe

Always did the light bring forth the natural shine of her golden hair, and with it his heart melted. The sounds would wake Voltaire, but he would pretend if only for a moment to still be asleep, listening to the conversation that came to pass and watching Julian stroke her face lovingly, "You look worn.." He whispered brushing his fingers over her cheek living in the warmth of it, and clearly confused as to what happened. "I feel fine. I want to get up." He needed to eat, needed some water, and needed to remember what happened to him. Cupping her cheek he kissed her own as she pressed her face to his, and his arms would move around her holding her tight. He was naked? Wait. What? Looking around he realized he was in Jean-Claude's lab, under Jean-Claude's sheet, and bandaged by Jean-Claude's cloth. Had he been sleep walking? His arms hurt with a very real pain when they bent to wrap around her, and it caused him to pull back looking at the bandage there as well around his chest. Confusion set deep in the icy pool of his eyes, and he was clearly lost, "What..happened?" (d


Lady Viscreed

"The sleep has done much but you are not mended yet. Gentle..Julian, gentle." She cautioned him, reprimanded his quickness. Ever the good, sweet wife still she swooned soft, cooing in his kisses. Fingers moved through his hair. It was too long, wasn't it? When he looked down at his own body reality needed to be explained. Her own way of it was only what she had been told or seen, but a wife doesn't lie. "Sweetheart, you do not remember the last two nights, nor the last day.." In her own realization she nodded. "The night before last, you had not come home. I thought you stayed late in the shop or at your studies, but you had not returned by dawn so I spent all of yesterday in to the night looking for you. It was your father that found you.." She looked at the bandages on his chest. How much could a heart break in one instant? "He found you covered in blood. Rosalind was with you. Jean-Claude had to sedate you in order for you to rest, Voltaire told me you were stronger than three of his men..of his most senior men. You hurt yourself" Eyes brimmed with tears "You cut in to yourself so badly, when I came in I thought you had.." She breathed, gathering herself "There are vile awful rumors the blood was the Lady Inveryne's. Claramae is still at work, I imagine, seeing that everyone's cover remains intact, and that there is no uproar. You did not hurt her, Rosalind. But you have no memory of many hours sweetheart..Jean-Claude conferred with Claramae and the Brother, to help you. I am here, always. Jean-Claude told me to come in, he knows I am your wife. I didn't tell him. I believethey figured it on their own merit. When I was walking, I found this.." She pulled out their wedding certificate from spain. It had been stained, but it was nothing she couldn't restore. Folded, it had lived close to her heart. "My weariness means nothing. Do not give it another thought." (d)

Young Master Monroe

"I..I..I don't remember." He looked to her once again melting away in her arms with all the regret still there within the caves of his chest. "Did I hurt you? Rosalind?" He shook his head as the breath came quickly to leave his chest in heavy puffs of air. "Jean-Claude? Where is Jean-Claude?" Had he made plans for it? His head started to pound, or perhaps he just realized that it was truly hurting yet still he kissed Janice as if needing to know she was real. "I remember..asking for help. I remember asking Rosalind, and then it all went black." He put his head in his hands but then pressed his cheek to her shoulder, "But I feel fine now. I feel rested, and my thoughts are clear." Raising to meet her gaze he pleaded with her, "Can we go home?" He heard the little drizzle of the day outside, and loved it when the markets were full. "I want to go home." He wanted out of here as if he could hear all of their voices at once going over and over through the events of the night. "Did I miss Jean-Claude's wedding?" Had he ever planned on going? Yes. He wanted to get dressed, to stand up, to eat, to drink, and to go home. It wasn't much to ask for right? (d

Lady Viscreed

"My love..my love shhhh..be calm now. don't strain yourself..be calm." Thin little arms wrapped around him; two tiny wings that would stand up to assaults of stone, glass, and infamy. Could they really? Janice steadied her breathing so the beat of the heart could influence his. "You have not missed the wedding, no..I believe it will be today, on the Sabbath day my love. God willing, we will go together, yes? You are so loved, Julian. Do you know how much? Jean-Claude will break himself to pieces for you, Claramae has been beside herself worrying if she strained you. Shhh." Then he asked to go home. It was raining, and how she wanted to lay in their bed watching droplets of water cling to the French Doors leading out to the balcony. "When you are fully well, we will go home. I should say when we. We have worried them all so terribly, let us let them care for us but a little. Soon we will go home. It will be in good hands that mend you. Let me find us breakfast? Have warm water brought for you...You can not submerge those wounds I am sure, but at least to clean your arms..your hair and face. " She kissed that hair, the face, his neck before gently coming around to place two hands on his poor back. " I will find your father, he will be beside himself with joy to have seen you waken up." She moved around the bed, sitting on its edge for a moment in a spell if dizziness. Those were so frequent now, and the constant of being half sick. (d)

Master deAquitaine

He was thankful for not missing the wedding, but she didn't answer his question about hurting everyone. The blood that was spilled was his own, by his own hands in an attempt to bleed out. This was nothing new, and the cuts were not deep. Yet, why did he not remember doing them? "I can't go like this." He shook his head running a hand through his too long hair, but quickly moved from the bed to help her. Was she going to fall? Naked and all he cared very little for nothing seemed to hurt him, and his pride was wounded as far as it was going to go. However, his Janice was beside herself at the moment, and moving too fast. Julian would ease her back in the bed, "I'll send for Breakfast, water, and tea. You rest." He smiled at her, and this was what made Voltaire clear his throat letting them both know he would do as they wished, and Julian would turn red before sinking to wear his bloody clothes were. So it was true how Monroe loved Viscreed. He had only heard of it in rumors. It was not long before he returned with the idea Jean-Claude had put in his head to move them both downstairs. A room was ready and waiting in the estates of the Hall, the apartments saved for visiting royals, but here he would be waiting for them both with copper tubs and clean clothes. It was the Masters warm smile and rested features that seemed so inviting as he took them both into his arms he felt Julian give in to the touch. Jean-Claude would let Janice fall away for only a moment, so that he could wrap his arms around his son and hold him tightly. Julian gave into the embrace and let him be held like a child lost now found. In French Jean told him of his love, and how he would not let him become lost. Julian replied with words hardly able to be made out he cried so hard, but his apologies were there. After a moment of silence he let his son go to clean the tears from his eyes, and motion for their retreat, "Come. I get married in a few hours. I want you both there. I want you rested, and there. Today, let us just pretend this did not happen. Just for today no?" He smiled wrapping his arm around Janice who was looking a bit pale herself and kissed her temple. "We shall celebrate two unions, and a beloved new treasure." He touched her stomach gently with Julian unaware of what he was speaking of, and with a smile he would leave them to their own. (d


Lady Viscreed

"No..of course not, which is why you need to eat and wash...first." Vertigo made the world spin before tilting it sideways against her will. The comfort of pitch-black blank behind the eyelids was allowed to penetrate her entirity. "We are a mess," she concluded as she was laid back. In that posture she issued aweak laugh as her hand came up to her face. How humor could be born from horror was as kill only these morticians could fathom. Here he was, cut to ribbons, naked before Voltaire after a night he endured only to worry over the fact she swooned. She was days tired running on adrenaline and caring little for herself. Voltaire couldn't help but to nod in agreeance. It was worth laughing at. "Yes, Janice la Bella, you and your husband baffle me. You would think I had seen everything, by my age." Somehow the two of them made the journey from the mythic necromancer's tower down to a place of only fairytales It was a castle of illusion, no? Janice had known of the exquisite apartments, given she had seen a set given to Ana on behalf of Julian yet she did not know this was to be given. Biting in to her lip, she smiled as eyes watered with the reunion between father and son. This was home. With them. French words reached a heart that would always be more French than English, more French than any of the other parts that comprised her. When he came to her she held him so tight, nodding in agreeance. "It is your day, yours and Adelaide's. Papa." She kissed his cheek, only for him to baffle her when he touched her stomach. Oh...oh. As he left her cheeks went as bright as a rose (d)

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

iii.

“We're not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be” - C.S. Lewis

Lady Viscreed

Home was the place so small in comparison to the puzzle-box of an estate it could be fit three or four times over with another half place to spare, she thought, looking across the expanse of the apartments she swore made the entirity of the house. Home was the place she missed now - the little table with the bowl of fruit. Had it started to turn yet? The kitchen, cold now. Was dust settling on clean things? She had never questioned the sanctity nor safety of the little place where she'd lain her head yet felt a strange sense of half security, half longing living even a pair of days within these halls. It was the second night now. Her old apartments were still here no where near the expanse of this. Was this what happened when you grew too big for one space? "Ouch.." She cringed, piercing her finger with the needle instead of just air. The piece she was doing was a motto on ribbon for Claramae. Bromheilde had told her she was not feeling well once again, having been taken down by the sudden cold that challenged even Autumn's supremacy. All of them were a little weathered weren't they - a little broken (d)

Young Master Monroe

They were not able to leave, and a few of their personal belongings were brought over in the wake of the wedding. Julian found this somewhat comforting to be locked away with his wife, having always been locked away alone--forced to go to his room. (lol) He had bathed, had a change of bandage and now sat barefoot by the fire across the sofa reading a book of God of all things, he clung to the text wanting this feeling that he knew still harbored deep. For hours they were silent together, but her little break in the quiet hall he would look up at her. He let the book move from his chest, and closed the distance between them. He was dressed like a patient, a man of healing, but he was comfortable as he slid in beside her by her chair. How much of his blood had she been hands deep in, and to the boy who had once grew cold at the sight of red took her hand within his and wrapped the scrap fabric where the skin broke. (d

Lady Viscreed

In the grand apartments meant for visiting royalty, the most common people were placed. Already the instructions to find sheets to cover the furnishings, the bed, and all the little treasures to keep the look of age away was a conflicting thing written earlier at the ornate desk in the corner of the sitting room. Allowance to move about was granted within the hall. For air, the gardens, but the eyes were enough to keep one suitably away where it could be said he belonged. Did she too? By virtue of a wedding vow she would sit in a cold prison tower with him if it came to that. Not a martyr by occupation, Janice became one only in the extent of devotion's practice. "Thank you." First words of a true sentence continue to prick the silence of hours as the needle did her finger. How much blood had the two of them shed together? By self infliction or by another's indifference to life? Veritable rivers. Her long sleeves cuffed back, he could see where leeches had eaten at her wrist. It amazed her how perfect she was to him. (d)

Young Master Monroe

She was perfect, she was cherished by him. He loved those wrists, as she could love his own. He loved her big nose if she could look past his sunk in eyes. He curled one leg to his chest, he slid in beside her to press his head to the back of the sofa, "You're welcome." He smiled lightly and let his eyes settle in on her needlepoint, "So accomplished." He teased in that quiet tone of his that had often torn her apart with less conviction in his voice. She really did amaze him, and the book forgotten to his left would be taken up once more. "Here." He handed her the pages, "At least this will not draw blood." One could argue that, and she was one of the few that could. (d

Lady Viscreed

Janice could look past his every percieved flaw to find the beauty. Where some called it a deeper substance of soul to view one's inner presence, most saw it in regards to their courtship extremely backwards. Voltaire had taken a strange interest in their safety. Indeed - the boy was not always himself - but he had long ago come to appreciate his quirks alongside of his skill. Even Bromheilde was becoming attached to the little pair made by Viscreed-Monroe, prattling on in irratated German when the maids brought them soup that was too cold (which meant plumes of steam were not rising. which meant they were slow. Bromheilde was a terribly precise woman.) "Yes, spellbinding isn't it? Motto on ribbon. I might have to venture to a hem if I do not swoon from the blood lose." She grinned, laying the little strip on the neighboring table to look at the book he handed her. "Maybe reading is a more blessed activity." Then she saw it was a book on God. How opportune. She kissed his cheek, rubbin at his close leg before looking at the first paragraph - he knew it would draw her in. Vortex in words. Then she came to a portion on honest truth as a self liberation. Oh it wasn't blessed, it was being overly opportunistic. Her head went back against the chair. "I want to tell you something." (d)

Young Master Monroe

Slowly by each passing moment he drew closer to her, with one arm around the back of the chair, and the other grazing over her knee while his fingers ran over the surface of her skirts just to keep them from being idle. He was afraid of them without purpose, or drive. He did not trust himself to keep quiet, or be alone. For this he was thankful to read over her shoulder, though she was much faster. "I wouldn't think you able to handle a hem, Mrs. Monroe." He smiled pulling his feet beneath him, "Your husband is horrible at them." Harper would scold him like a child, but she never figured he did it on purpose for she always did his work for him. A heartless soul perhaps he was, but the dressmaker's apprentice was never one to let it all go so easy. "Is that so?" He squared his gaze on her, "So..go on." Somewhere he feared she would tell him enough was enough, and it was for this he pretended to be alright. (d

Lady Viscreed

"Oh, is he? Well Master Monroe doesn't' have to be good at hems. He is to be good at fixing things. I noticed there was a little set of gears near our french doors." He was trying to automate the house, wasn't he, with little bits of metal. The idea of their dwelling so quirked only made sense when one considered the exorbant expense of laying in glass and the crazy idea of doing it before winter. If it could be done before then. She dreamed on little things like that, determined that when all was said and done they would be home again. French nuns sewed with great skill, as the student of them she failed a little in the lack of coordination today. Offended finger was looked at before she turned to the eyes that most found disheartening or annoying. God, but he had already perfected his signature look hadn't he? If she hadn't grown so used to those eyes she would have cringed. Instead she tucked her legs up under her. "I'm frightened, Julian. All of the sickness is more than mere exhaustion, so the masters tell me. They believe it is because I'm with..child. I haven't accepted that yet as the reason." No she would sooner be locked with him behind doors for the rest of their natural life with all matter of grace than bend her mind around the idea she presented. Oddly enough today had been fine. Funny what could be when one stopped moving. It wasn't natural though, not to move. Her shop's locked doors must be gaining so much notice (d)

Young Master Monroe

There could have been a line drawn around his train of thought, as he went from one place to the other calculating the possibilities, and rounding the numbers. She could be..couldn't she? From Spain. It would have been the right amount of time. "How..when will you know?" He shook his head, his eyes a big large with the surprise of it, "When? Will you know..You should rest. I'm fine now. There isn't any reason to worry. You need to rest. Put your feet up?" What had Jean-Claude done with Adelaide? She would know. She was a witch wasn't she? He didn't smile. Not once, but he did not frown either. There was a heartfelt curiosity that now filled him. Yet his cynical nature made him wish for an answer first before he went either way. (d

Lady Viscreed

Everything was an equation with the man - yet it was a game of numbers no? The first night in Spain coupled with every night there after left infinite possibility. It could be well near a pair of months or just shy of but a pair of weeks. She hadn't sat down to figure or admit she could be terrible at it."How?" Giggle, she needed a little bit to break up all the nerves. Her husband may have his sense of shy reserve when it came to exposing the opposite of modest but he was quite comfortable in expression! "Well, when. I think it's been since we've been home. It's only been a little while, perhaps a pair of weeks now. Sometimes it comes on very quickly..others it takes weeks but, it's been very distinct for a fortnight. Could be at the most nearly a month. My feet are up." They were tucked under her, warm wry grin spread across her face. "To be doubly sure I thought to ask Adelaide. Not that Master Laurence wouldn't know, she's medicinally sage but Adelaide is more..womanly that way?" Claramae had never had a single desire to reproduce. Not a whit. Head came to rest now on one of her knees. "My mind will have a hard time grasping it either way. I'm just scared. Does it make sense to you that I'd rather trapse about the papal library with all matter of intrigue over my head than fathom this?" Maybe it'd make sense to him at least. Julian understood. Everyone else thought she'd be produce beautiful children to continue some tradition of light radiance. She actually looked a little scared. (d)


Young Master Monroe

She was a little scared? Ha! There wasn't a single bit of emotion that rolled over his face, nor did he wear his surprise well. "You..are talking about a baby right? A..human baby?" It shocked him greatly, "We're going to be responsible for another life?" It was starting to set in. "Janice..what do you mean it comes on? You're hair has been falling out, and you worry your face. This is normal?" He was shocked now. "You can be scared. This is a very scary thing." More so then the demons in his head! Or the image of this child stolen from them nightly by Jean-Claude.At first it seemed he was going to be unhappy, without any sign of smile, or any sort of break in his character until, "Well..Jean-Claude was unhappy he now had an empty room since I moved in with you." And there it was, his shy little smile. (d


Lady Viscreed

"No, no. That isn't from this..the.." scar on the side of her face wasn't scratched at for once, just rubbed. It was only a mild pink now. "The hair is the nerves..I've been worried so much about you, but you are right you do seem to be getting better. Then I can be worried on our lover's bench, by our fire. Hair grows back." She chuckled a little, fingering a few strands of it. At least it was staying in place the last few days. "I knew you'd understand. That is it..responsible for another life and. I've always been scared of that idea." The flat face was something beginning to tear a little bit at her heart..the worry. She would make that scar raw if he kept looking like that! Then he spoke, then he smiled. She giggled again, leaning in to his chest and wrapping her arms around his middle. "I saw things..in my uncles book when I was young..they stayed with me.The inside of people. I always thought because of everything I've seen or that i come from..I would marr a child by default. They say things like that pass on.. Do you think I'll learn to forget that?Or of being so worried my past is unworthy of bestowing on a child?" Everyone had locked her away or confined her. Fed what interested them or admonished it. It was all so backwards. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Imagine that. Janice actually asking him questions for once. "Not that the child is unworthy to receive it..it is just sad, and strange. and haunted. It makes me angry at them, but..now I've found myself missing them, horribly. My mother, my uncle. My uncle was all the father I had." (d)


Young Master Monroe



"Its frightening, Love. Very much so..but we must think as well that this child would never want of anything. You alone can provide it a life far better then the one I had, and together? I just..I just feel I have just grown myself." In many ways he had. After all the world that had been so harsh on him, it was his immaturity that held him back. It was his own childish ways that had him worried for what was to come, but it was her sweet smiles that kept him grounded. "I think it is natural to want your family, when you are starting your own. Your last marriage promised you many things, and that was a disappointment to you." He went over her feelings like reading them from a text, "This one is forever, and you know this." In the way he said that he took her hand clinging to the little fingers, "We just might..be a little too young to be parents." Couldn't stop what had already happened, "But we'll learn." Listening to her talk of her family he wrapped the arm that was behind her around her back. "You shouldn't be so angry. There is nothing to be angry over now. You have forgiven them, and somewhere doesn't it give you comfort to know they are proud?" Look at him talking about Heaven…?? "You wouldn't hurt a baby, Janice. I see when you fight, how you feel guilty about even that." He laughed then. "You wouldn't mar this child anymore then Jean-Claude has Genna." Which wasn't much.


Lady Viscreed



Was this her husband? He was so calm and consoling. Every word from his lips was heart toned rational. It had skipped around his brain but the place he spoke from was not entirely the seat of his analysis. She just listened for the longest time to it, drinking it in. Had he taught her the value of silence? Her ability to understand increased with the state of saying nothing right back at first. Her last marriage was often something she considered when she sewed as it was a steady moment - in one year she had been deBrabant and Monroe. The family she had was put off by the man. When he left for Austria, in the wake of her shock she realized the plain fact her position as a wife was never secure in so much as herself as well as him. He was willing to leave them to die. He was willing to throw away every promise he'd made, every choice from his first moment to that all for the sake of renown. Janice had enough of worry, but she would never abandon her family, break every promise. She'd sooner live estranged than do it. How strange when its realized perfection was never as absolute in the heart. No one is ever blameless. The Austrian merely took the bulk of it.

The Monroes had already been through so much. God ordained a similar set of circumstances, a similar test of strength, only from beginning to end the pair of who could hardly agree on which way a son rises formed the limbs, body, and head of a gigantic force. She refused to be his wife for the sake of business, citing that making a mockery of marriage was not something she could do. She'd sooner marry a fish! God had a sense of humor with his purpose. Every argument dug out more of what tied the pair together, every radical idea increased euphoric zeal. In the end the decision to marry she deduced was as much a want to protect the friend one found in the other in as much as business, yet, kneeling in the tilted Spanish church she found herself willing to keep every vow, knowing she'd never marry again their after or court even if it was only a marriage of business. Just when she began to feel black humorous, sad, over what had been done the truth came out. It was the most backwards of courtships going from end to beginning. It seemed that whatever was thrown at them they collectively broke it, studied it, debated about it, then laughed in their own odd way. No wonder it became the worst kept secret in the world. With his mind in turmoil and her hair falling out, the masters had confined them until they could put the little pair's pieces together again, of the separate selves in order to form a healthy joint. Oh she was worried, no denying that, but really they should have seen them in Spain. To this day only Julian knew about the sword cuts she had on her body. He knew she wouldn't hurt a baby, if anything it'd give her a reason to fight guilt free.

She held his hand tighter, turning on her side so that her head was against the side of his chest without hurting his wounds, more in the crook of his arm. "All of them would have been pleased with you - Elusha, Jacob, Danielle, My father, uncle, and mother. They are here..resting in peace now of the mind and somewhere, they are proud. I have survived them all, and lived like they lived. Not letting one thing or the other become the sole keep of myself," Fingertips were kissed, the palm of his hand. "We are very fortunate. Twixt whatever we choose to do beyond our family and the family itself. We might have to negotiate to hold our own child though." She chuckled. " With us together you are a genius. There is an entire other space between our house and the bookstore, you should take it, do what you wish with it. Outdo them all. They haven't had Sorschal's plans or gears or Jean-Claude as a teacher." He could do whatever it was he wanted, whatever it suited himself to do.She loved the way he worked in his study, so damn concentrated. "You are so gifted with numbers and fixing things. And you are so steady." That was debatable, but the real Julian was as steady as he was spastic. It's what his wife loved about him. "You're right, I shouldn't be angry. All is long since forgiven, their body and souls at rest, and always are they in my prayers, always loved. You and I are forever." It was the most comforting thought as she caressed the sparrow on the string same color as his eyes.Even Adelaide wore a ring now, had a veil, went down an aisle. The pair of them had gone down an aisle, and a mass, nevermind the building could have fallen down on them or she wore yellow, and wore birds instead of rings. She was content with it. "Always and forever. We will learn, part instinct, part lessons. We like to learn things," she chuckled a little a that, "Try to keep Jean-Claude from picking out lace just yet? I already see this poor child covered in it." Running jest - a baby you had to find to baptize for all the things it wore. Turning her head up she kissed him with no reservations. No worry for modesty or rejection. Without thinking, as he'd told her once.

She understood why women threw themselves in a lover's arms, defied all convention and duty for it. Tucked away in the grand rooms was everything she had ever wanted but never thought to have.

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

Fly Away, Fly Away, Fly Away Home
just a little longer?

[/size][/right]


Lady Monroe

The household felt different without the steady presence of the Irish friar. So quick to enter, so quick to leave in order to see what his place was; no one understood except maybe her husband what it meant to have someone you idolized in even the smallest measure leave you for the world beyond. Envy was a sin. God agreed to let her feel it so long as she did not succumb to the urge to lose herself in it. Days had turned to weeks now with the advent of the time spent in the house crafted of illusion. The Master had improved in health, but even now she was as carefully kept as the other pair she instructed to not be burdened overmuch. Janice measured the days like inches on a ruler. A foot inevitably ran out of inches. By the next measurement the consent for them to return home was achingly close. She couldn't wait to tell her husband! "Lady Monroe, you should slow down!" Bromheilde cautioned her at the mouth of the hall leading to her apartments "I will, thank you Lady Voltaire for your concern.." The German vulture softened to a sweet sort of overbaring hen for the likes of the master and her apprentices. Especially one carrying something so precious inside of her. The outside world was questionable when in here so long, one that rose her fear. The prickle of what ifs, the sting of what will happen - yet - she had no reason to be so afraid..she'd relinquish it. Poor dear. "Have you seen Julian come this way? I want to tell him that soon we are to go home..or is he fixing gears elsewhere again?" (d)

Young Master Monroe

Julian had felt the air leave the hall when the Brother had left, and he was not certain he could understand the way he felt as though he had been missing something. His chest rose and fell with breath but he felt as though he was without air, but perhaps it was simply the fact he had been working in the small spaces of where Master Alex's gears turned beneath the stone. They needed oil, and some needed replace--it amazed him at how quick he picked up on the mind of the magician though only with the most humble feelings. "He was this way." Lady Voltaire motioned to the hall where the invisible passage was left open to allow air in, and a bit more light. For the first time in his life Julian felt rather proud of his thin nature for he fit rather well behind the cogs, and spinning gears that another would have struggled to fit.Smudges of the covered his face, and fingers as he started on the end of being finished. The entrance would squeal anymore, and he hoped Claramae would be pleased as much as the Lady Voltaire's husband that he would not be the one to this before the winter came. He heard her voice like the chime of the bells, and smiled from his perch well above the gears. (d

Lady Monroe

Diarmuid was a much needed piece of sunlight or a moonbeam. He was a steady oak tree, a piece of earth. He was anything to anyone that needed him, and to see the Grandmaster humble herself before a man of God had endeared Janice to him even more. Without knowing her, he championed all her causes. Why it was on his insistance that her aptitude with plants continue to stay sharp lest it ever be needed! Following the motions of the Lady's hand she was able to deduce her husband was working with the enchantment of the miraculous castle. "Master Monroe understands the workings of magicians and tinkerfolk does he?" She called in to the passage with mirth. Everything was incredible, every reason only unlocked another mystery. Could he hear it like she could, the constant thrum of water deep in the foundations? Gears took longer than ancient principles to perfect, so there were items in the world of changing levels powered by the flow of aquaducts, the ability for stone to slide compliments of strong pulley and water wheel systems. Darling wife stuck her head in through the passage, turn turned upward to see him in places no common being could go. "And well!" Cheeks were apple tinged instead of oil painted. Health was becoming hers again! "You are coming very close, at this rate you will know every crawl space and make Master Peregrine very, very jealous. Fathom that, then you can change the passes on him just like the Grandmaster does." Janice would be behind him, giggling like a child at the prospect of it too! A few fingers fetched flailing hairs in order to usher them behind her ear. Two hands clasped behind her back as she craned her neck back up, up to see it all. No he wasn't miserable anymore than she was perpetualy giddy. Opposites understood one another best . "I will be caeful, don't worry, I'll take care." She stepped to him, over a few places, ducking in another before taking his kiss. "Everything's fine Julian, I feel much better these days thank you, and everything is very well. In fact I came to tell you that Claramae believes we are so much improved that within the day if we should like we are welcome to come and go again as we please, and allowed to return to the house on the row - oh, look look - " Blue eyes fell to being fascinated by the chasms in between the stone. She saw water in some places, the great equalizer. "It never ceases to amaze me. I still do not know how I ever managed to remember everything about the foundations in order to flood them when the fire took through the under-dark, I am just glad that I did.." She grazed her fingers over Alexander's work. She missed him and Vance everyday (d)

Young Master Monroe

He watched her for a moment, glad they could return home though liking the little life she made them in their room. The hall knew of how he needed her, and she him yet would they ever figure out why? "Jean-Claude told me that story. He tells it all the time, of how you saved him. Every time he catches me in here, or hears of my going beneath. It is not that I feel he wants to keep it from me, but maybe he is afraid I will leave to." His Master's wedding had returned their relationship, though it had started with the night before. The lantern was starting to dim, and the sun was growing late in the afternoon, it would be time to be home soon enough. Julian kept quiet for a moment his eyes growing distant as he thought of the day he had forgotten his way home, and the memory still so very black. He would not admit that, but perhaps in his moment of breaking from his thoughts he would look to her in a quick, "Maybe just a few more days?" Really, Julian? "Though to be back in our bed.." He sighed, pressing from the wall he would come up behind her. Was it so strange to like being here, and hardly even knew what day it was? "We'll have to figure out what room for the baby.." Though little did they know Jean-Claude already had. (d

Lady Monroe

"I think he worries of it, because he saw what happened to Master Sorschal. But Sorschal was a showmen, besides what he endured and it's natural for him to travel, to explore. Vance went with him. There are even rumors he took Mr. Renquest, though heaven only knows why. The Masters Penchant for..pretty assistants would only get Vance in trouble and burden poor Nathan. What a group they must make. I think his magic is as healing for him as this is for you, taking things apart and putting them together again. I think he worries Claramae will leave for good. She wouldn't. She is happy in Skye, it is merely though I am surprised he has not tried sending carriages to the door to usher her off to her country estate. Now that, she needs. You will think it strange for me to say so, but his Majesty should have seen the pair of them long ago." Nothing could remove the little bit of gold left on their statues in her mind. Merely the way they all still suffered fromtheir scars. Kings had many affairs to deal with, what could she claim to know, but was not England important? "Hmm? If you wish to stay a few more days we certainly can." The first week together up the walls crawled the Monroes but now it seemed to have grown on them, admittely though she did miss their bed the most. "Yes, and finish our poor garden before it gets too cold. The baby's room to be done now. The house seems as if it will never be finished. You didn't finish animating our french doors all the way," unknowing Jean-Claude had probably made it so that all of her touches would have to be 'retouched' month by month until the house was exactly the way it was prior. His distant eyes touched a part of the 'what ifs' she had spoken with Diarmuid on. How could they do this without him? "We'll make due. At the very least coming and going as we please, perhaps I should find an assistant for the book shop? It's been closed so long now, but I can not go on about running it as have with such late hours." (d)


Master Monroe

He ran the cloth over his face, the dampness pulling away the grease as best it could as he listened to her, and pondered a smile. "You always speak of Mr. Renquest with such oddity, beloved. Tell me again about that kiss?" He liked to tease her on it, and often. He liked watching her face flush with it, and was deeply thankful his first kiss was in Spain. He took up her hand as he listened, and gave a nod when she spoke of hiring an assistant, but.."Janice..have you thought of where you wish to go? I mean..well..guess you can not with a child now, but what of the hall?"He would take her home tonight, his mind was made up when she went over the list. It was a strange way to think of their life together, but he wasn't certain he could have it any other way. It bothered him greatly Jean-Claude could not find the cause to his suffering, or what had made him so out of his mind as to draw blood. He had hurt Ada, though this was kept between he and the healer, but what was it? (d


Lady Monroe

She watched him come from grease covered to refined with a swipe of cloth. Admiration turned to mild embarrasment as the roses opened up to spread color on her cheeks. "Carpe diem, and let that be the end of it!" The back of her hand served as a thing to hide behind before she cleared her throat. "It hardly matters. I should like to think I think the better and best of any suitor a woman could have had every morning and evening." Janice happily curled her hand in his own. "Where I wish to go? Well as far as travel now..with the child I do not know if it is advisable, certainly it is done but I have heard horrible stories of how ill women become on boats. The dizzy spells are enough, fortunately I have had no reason to be ill to my stomach. Though after, he or she shall be a well traveled child. France or Italian states harken, with my husband at my side of course. Of the hall? I love this hall as much as I love our house, and all within it.As much as I think you've come to care for it too. I want to see it just as well taken care of. I am glad you are able to do as you do..and I do what i will do. It helps all of the masters." Beyond the little passage to gather what things could be gathered of the room ...though oddly Janice felt a few things should be left. It was their apartnment after all. Another side of their lives together. An inevitable long night or visit would call them soon. Diarmuid's reasoning for Julian's madness was said to be a gaping mental wound caused by strain, to which Claramae supported the stress of what was seen, done, and experienced in Spain compounded upon already harder aspects of his life. The spiritual? Hadn't it been brushed at with kid gloves? Janice noticed he became more....tolerant...toward faith of late. "Voltaire promised me he will make implicitly sure that the master takes good care of herself as we go home." She looked in the direction of Claramae's rooms. Her heart was breaking still. Those wicked, wicked scars. Her husband had his own self inflicted marks of pain too. All of them would heal,yes? (d)

Young Master Monroe

"That is a given, but I can not help but think of it. You were so young then." So was he, but really there wasn't much of him that wasn't so willing to let her go just yet. "I like it when you blush." He whispered touching her cheek gently, and laughed lightly, "Strangely ok that its of the memory of another." They were children then, hardly adults though both had grown well past their years. There wasn't much to pack as he had been living on what was simple, just as he had all his life, but he would leave a few things. She was right, and when they took to the streets he could feel his heart racing to be home with her. Claramae had offered to show him her scars, but he had refused. There was a great fear in him that he would have passed out at the thought, but in truth he wasn't ready to think her human just yet. They were just starting their path, and Claramae was a big part of his life now. It wasn't until a few on the streets would do a turn and look did Julian realize that he must have been a mess, and would think of a nice hot bath the entire way. However..the large bow on the door was a quick motion to cause him to stop. Only Jean-Claude could tie bows like that, "Oh no.." The flashy gold in the color held a note, that spoke in riddles, but more or less told a story of how they needed to venture upstairs. There were packages everywhere, of starting a new life together that they almost couldn't move through the door without something new getting in their way. He had not put anything where he didn't feel was his place, but the Master had in fact been busy in the room that had once been a study. "Should you go first?" Was he afraid? Partly. (d


Lady Monroe

"It felt like forever ago, to tell you the truth. As if it were ten years twixt then and now." To be close to him was a feeling she didn't give up. Always shoulder to shoulder, a touch even if one wasn't called for. Laughter caressed her ear. She had been a child when others were long grown, but so was he. All of them given a chance to express themselves, to mature with years, a rare chance they neve rtook for granted. Once the curves carried them closer to home, Janice thought the little fountain park, the dancing water and colors had never looked so welcoming! A few people were out for evening rides, off to suppers. Lights shone in welcoming windows just as their own would be lit again. It was hard to remind herself not to run, but she certainly did walk five steps faster! Oh what to do first! Light the lamps , pull away the sheets from the furniture. Fix a supper for the pair of them? The Hall made it hard to dote on her husband in the way a wife preferred..yet a golden bow on the door? "Why...." She whispered before he read the note, then took it to see. Oh no indeed. Oh God. "Oh my heavens! What..are all of these..oh my. If we aren't careful he will insist to plan a cathedral ceremony next, or a court party..how much golden ribbon an one box have! That is enough for five dresses! I can not even see to my study door..what is.." Hadn't the note read upstairs? "Oh my..you do not think..the largest room? There were two others upstairs..your study. He wouldn't have.. the bedroom...any. Oh my." The skirts were lifted up beyond her ankles, to near the knee as she dashed up the stairs after lighting a lantern. Hanging the lantern over the stairs she noticed the red fabric around one of the boxes. "Heaven help me." (d

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

Lady Monroe

"I never wanted any either," a woman who didn't want children was akin to a cat not enjoying sunlight. It didn't factor, thus rendering them abnormal. "I found out and I was so terrified.. so much change, and so soon. I didn't want to bring us strain or stress or..but.." He took hold of her and and find she collected the little plush animal close to her body. "Names...they'll need a name won't they.." She had no idea. No intuition of yet, would she? Hang needles over the belly, necklaces and rings to find out what it would be like a silly old wife? "Danielle?" It was like he reached inside to scoop up the tarnished stature of her mother to place it back on the shelf. Her life, he cleaned it off and never judged it. Always made it worth while. "Danielle Monroe, that is beautiful..and for a boy? I'm a traditionalist. The first born son should be named after his father..Julian. Perhaps Julian Elijah. For you, and my Father? Elijah is English, for Elusha." One hand let go of the toy to rub against his shoulder. "Our baby. No matter where we've been or what we've done. Our baby, to love, to cherish always. Claramae told me there will be a feast to celebrate the birth and she'll have it no other way. She talks of preserving one of her estates for the child on the continent, if not two, and of promising nothing but the finest midwives.. This child is already the most spoiled child on the island, rivaling the royalty." (d)


Young Master Monroe

He smiled leaning into her to brush his lips against her own, and whisper, "I like the sound of that," before he kissed her. His hands coming to her hips pulling her closer if possible but mindful of her changing form. Not much had truly changed save for tenderness of particular areas, and her dizzy spells. When his arms circled around her the deeper meaning to his kiss was revealed, but the sound of the door opening would catch his attention as he turned towards the hall. Jean-Claude's voice carried up through the staircase and Julian shook his head..figures. "We'll regret that he's so close, perhaps we'll put him out in the country with Claramae." A joke..did Master Monroe just make a joke? Ha.


Master deAquitaine

"You have not opened anything!" He called up clearly disappointed, "Look here a fondu set, a skillet for waffle, bah mes amis, what am I going to do with you? Are you upstairs?" Youth had served him well in the past months, and he made his way up the stairs without little effort. His grin spoke of his surprise, and how please he was at the outcome. "Do you like? I have been collecting this for years, Julian. Look..This was to remember your first day of school." He picked up one of the dolls dressed in a smaller version of the outfit that only children of his age wore to school, but Julian didn't recognize the outfit.."Well..ok, I would have sent you to school in this, had you let me."


Young Master Monroe

"Jean-Claude, I was fourteen.." He seemed rather annoyed, as he shook his head--his son would never wear sky blue velvet.


Master deAquitaine

"I know, I know, but still..I shall get this on Little Jean-Claude no? Ha!" He was giddy, and it was alarmingly eerie. (d


Lady Monroe

"Mm.." He coaxed his wife ever closer to find her whisper with laughter against his mouth before taking one kiss, then another. "There is more that I like.." A bold comment as he took her by the hips. Would anyone ever understand how so much two opposites could attract? North and south pole anchored every hour together. She sucked on his lower lip while pushing a piece of his bangs away. Wouldn't it be known that in the moment she opened herself to be bold to her significant other the subject changed enough to cause her to blush a flame ridden red, leaning her forehead against his shoulder? At least she laughed! Her father in law went on all about how they did not open the fineries all around, little pieces of this or that. "Is that another case of china beneath my shelves of glass plates, Papa?" Probably two sets! Velvet was presented up for review to which Janice said "If we allow the velvet later you musn't drown our baby in lace during the baptism, hmm? It is beautiful, all of it, thank you. Years worth..goodness. Were you intending to marry off your poor son complete with a thing that suggested all expectation for children?"She clucked her tongue teasingly. "Well. You may have this one to love upon but you must promise to not expect a gaggle akin to geese." She wagged her finger at him before kissing his cheek. The number would be left entirely up to Julian and herself, though at least one would distract him for awhile! Buy them at least three years. (d)


Master deAquitaine

: "One is enough for me, for now, just so long as you promise the night before the Lord's day. He shall spend the night with me, play in the evening with Genevieve. I shall take him to church in the morning, and then we all shall go to brunch." Jean-Claude smiled bending to kiss them both with all the warmth that could capture a man. "I've come to invite you both to dinner at Adelaide and I's town home. He went quiet watching Julian, who had moved away from them slowly and was rubbing at his arms as if he were cold. "Julian..?" To hear that boy's name on Jean-Claude's lips gave it a sound that could rival any French title.


Young Master Monroe

He had not meant to drift in his thought looking over the room again he felt as though he could live here it seemed so full of life, so ready to take on the new life. He felt so in love already chills went over his arms from the warmth his heart felt, "Hmm? " He broke from his thought turning back to them with a wonder he was even ready to take such a leap, but there in fact he was. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking." Jean-Claude had seemed worried, almost frightened holding his breath until Julian spoke again. "We were about to have dinner..do you want to go?" He needed a bath first, badly. (d


Lady Monroe

"We will try to share him or her, it may be a her. Danielle if it is to be a girl. To name it for the mothers if it is a girl, fathers if a boy." Little plans like that made the reality sweet, wonderful. When Julian stepped away, rubbing at his arm she wanted to worry but it would unravel everything. Faith. Faith was so important. He looked so, so well. He sounded well. His thinking couldn't unravel everything because it was his thinking that brought her to this place of peace. "Sweetheart?" She went to her husband, lavishing her kisses on him. "Why don't I run you a warm bath before supper? You were working so hard on the hall." Ginger touch carressed his cheek with a warm tenderness. Life was changing so fast yet he made her want to keep flying in to the sun with him. "Jean-Claude excuse me for a few moments? Before supper I want to see that my husband is content." Jean-Claude was right. Janice doted on him as supreme example of her love for him. "I at least need to brush my hair." (d)


Master deAquitaine


Jean-Claude smiled watching them, it warmed his heart at what a wonderful wife she was. He could not have been happier in the choice Julian made, and though Margot was something special--this was the one. Janice was truly devoted, and cared after Julian as he needed. Jean's only concern was did Julian do the same for her? In the past few months he had not been able to, he had not been himself. However, watching him now be so tender with her he knew his boy had it in him. She should not worry so much, but in truth Julian shouldn't give her much reason to worry if they could get him in his right mind. He was not a violent person, nor was he the sort of such evil. It had surprised Jean-Claude to hear of him fencing so well, but when he came to watch he gave credit to Julian's keen ability to his precise aim.


"I shall see you soon, I need to return home and help Adelaide." He kissed them both before making his way back down, whispering once more his congratulations before his departure.


Young Master Monroe



"I'd like a bath, I'd like to put my feet up for a while, and rest. I'm very tired." In truth he was, for now his mind switched from the nights of no rest to a nearly constant ability to fall asleep no matter where he was. It was his bodies way of making up for what had been lost over the years, or perhaps he was simply still weak from whatever had happened to his mind. "Perhaps, Danielle Clare, or Julian Jean Elusha would like to partake hmm?" He smiled at the mouthful, but how could he not?

{End Thread}