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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 7, 2017 15:06:34 GMT -5
( Hello! Could I claim the "A Little Fall of Rain" plot? Also, would it be okay if I roleplayed Muse A? If not, Muse B is fine with me. ) [Hey, Rain! Of course you can have Muse A x Can I just get a charrie name and then whether you have a preference as to mxf or fxf?]
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Post by Heather Chandler on Jan 7, 2017 15:31:47 GMT -5
( My character's name will be Marielle Fortier and I'd prefer mxf. )
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 7, 2017 15:38:15 GMT -5
[No problem, I'll add you. Would you mind starting?]
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Post by Blossomshadow on Jan 7, 2017 16:44:17 GMT -5
(They are too cute <3)
Julia shook her head. "This may be out of line to ask, but I could really use a hug right now." She looked a bit nervous, her stomach in knots. This young man had been her rock these past few weeks, the only thing keeping her going during her treatment here. She had began to keep everything bottled up inside her. She wondered when or ever, if they were going to get out of here. Unbeknown to them, the war was meeting its end outside the walls of the basement.
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Post by liz on Jan 7, 2017 16:53:39 GMT -5
"I've made the acquaintance of Mr Hamilton and Mr Madison, indeed," Isaac said "Mr Hamilton is more similar to me than anyone that I can say I have met. I can't say much about Mr Madison, we haven't spoken much. I also haven't yet had the chance to have a full conversation with Mr Jefferson, but since you are marrying him I am sure that an opportunity will soon arms. Well, I do hope that the decisions go well - Mr Aaron Burr has been keeping a close eye on Mr Hamilton and I do believe there are tensions bubbling forth between those two." Indeed, he couldn't understand how Hamilton and Burr considered themselves friends, considering that neither seemed to particularly like the other. But he supposed they had their reasons. "I've noticed the same thing, both are so similar I fear one will off the other." She said, frowning slightly when he mentioned her marriage. Looking down at the cloth in her hands, she simply sighed. What does one say to a man she cares for much, much more than she cares for her soon to be husband?
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Post by Blossomshadow on Jan 7, 2017 16:56:36 GMT -5
(Hey, Liz, quick question. What color egg was your third dragon hatchling there? Egg in a puddle??)
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Post by liz on Jan 7, 2017 16:57:53 GMT -5
Yes!!)
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Post by Blossomshadow on Jan 7, 2017 16:58:33 GMT -5
(Okay, thank you (: )
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Post by Blossomshadow on Jan 7, 2017 17:00:05 GMT -5
(Found one! Lol)
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Post by 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘯 on Jan 7, 2017 17:15:42 GMT -5
Emeline smiled. "When you grow up with King James for a father, you learn." Even the staff here, especially those who'd been here growing up, knew a thing or two. Truth be told, she was one of the least strategical people in this place, at least out of those that had been educated. She had no chances of ascending to the throne, at least not unless her brother passed and that wasn't something she liked to consider, so she didn't need to be.
She finished the food on her plate, and before she could gesture for it to be taken away, a server materialised to take it away. The young boy gave a deep nod as he retreated back towards the kitchen, but Emeline didn't acknowledge him past a quick glance.
"Would you mind if I asked you a question about you home?" she asked, looking curious. "What are people like there? We're all different here, but there are definitely overarching similarities. Is it like that where you come from, too?" "The people at home?" Adele asked "Well, yes, we are like that. We tend to think quite similarly to your people, but we are less strategic, I think. We are analysers, but I wouldn't call us particularly aggressive. I suppose that's why we don't make very good strategists in general. I mean, it's are to explain us, but I would say that we do all seem to have similarities. I think it's just that our cultures encourage people to think in certain ways" She too finished her food, and her food was taken away moments later. It was kind of interesting, sitting here,, chatting about what each other's people were like. It didn't seem like they were all that different, which Adele suspected would be useful for her people, who had a whole new society to integrate into,most probably. Emeline nodded. That made sense, she supposed. She knew very little of Adele's former Kingdom and the people that lived in it, and their culture was very much a mystery to her. But it seemed, at least from what little she'd been told, that they were quite similar, which wasn't too surprising considering the proximity.
"Do you have anywhere you wish to go?" she asked, nodding to the now empty table before them. "We can stay, if you'd like, but there are much more comfortable chairs elsewhere." These weren't half as comfortable as a sitting chair would be, they were made to eat in and nothing more. Entertainment would take place elsewhere once everyone had finished their meals.
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Post by ωιℓ∂ cнιℓ∂ on Jan 7, 2017 21:26:16 GMT -5
Agnes smiled and dipped her head, "Agnes Porter, pleased to meet you ma'am." She said, liking how casual she was with her, sure she was a lady-in-waiting and technically above a servant such as herself but she was still polite. Noticing her her take her hair down Agnes set down the bucket that she had just picked up and walked over to Eliza, "Would you like some help taking your hair down?" She asked, wiping her hands on her skirt to make sure she didn't get any ashes from the fire in Eliza's hair... Wouldn't that just be something, to sully someone's hair who didn't completely ignore her. "Oh, would you mind?" Eliza asked "there's just one pin that I think is in there too tight for me to be able to reach it. Once you take that pin out it should just be a plait, and I can wear it like that to bed" She always put her hair in a plait before doing her updos so that when she undid the style she'd be left with a plait. She liked to wear them for bed to stop t tangling too much. She had an evening off from caring for the queen - she had requested one of the other ladies that evening. It was a clear power play, trying to keep Eliza as far away from her, and therefore the king, as possible. It was a good move on her part, since everyone knew that once the king had his eye set on a lady-in-waiting, she would quickly become his mistress and then would likely quite quickly replace his wife. Agnes smiled as she made her way around to Eliza's hair. "Not at all." She said in answer to the question. She searched a moment, her long fingers delicately brushing through the beautiful strands of hair, careful not to ruin the plait before gently tugging out the pin. "Ah, there it is." She said with a grin, placing it with the rest of the hair pins that Eliza had already managed to get out. Stepping back around, Agnes stood a moment, knowing she shouldn't linger for no reason but not sure what else she needed to do here. "I am finished with your room but I was supposed to bring any laundry that you had down with me, was there anything you wanted me to take?" She asked tilting her head slightly and raising a questioning eyebrow.
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Post by Heather Chandler on Jan 8, 2017 0:49:10 GMT -5
( Here's the starter. Sorry this took so long! I was really busy this afternoon. )
Marielle clutched her golden hair, bringing it to the front so she could look at it. It had gotten pretty long, going about three fourths of the way down her back. And now, it would have to go. She rather liked her hair, and she guessed that she would miss it, but right now, Marielle was afraid of it. What if someone thought her hair looked more feminine or something and became suspicious of her? She shook the thought from her head, but she knew that it wouldn't last long. These thoughts had been plaguing her mind all day ever since she had made up her mind to disguise herself as a man and join the revolution. They had haunted her dreams, creating nightmares where others had found out in various ways who she really was.
Marielle sighed and picked up the knife in her right hand. Its sharp blade was typically used to cut bread, but now she was using it to cut her hair. She swung the knife through the golden strands, which slipped through her fingers and fell on the floor. She cut off a few more strands and looked into the mirror. What her green eyes saw almost startled her. Marielle had been fully aware that she would look much different, but in her mind’s eye she still saw herself as she looked before she had thought of doing this. She was used to looking in the mirror and seeing a woman, a normal, typical woman, not one who was disguising herself as a man.
The short hair would help convince people, but was it enough? She looked away from the mirror. All that she had done would have to be enough. Cutting her hair, wearing men’s clothes, and even talking in a deeper voice had to convince them. She wanted to do this, more than anything else. She wanted to fight for what she believed in and help change the future into a different place. And now, she was ready to start doing just that.
Marielle opened the door of the small house and left, not looking back. Her fingers nervously fidgeting at her sides as she walked, she tried to look as though she wasn't as stressed as she felt. She was going over the information for her new identity. Marielle had to make sure that she had all of the information down. One thing contradicting another could lead to suspicion. The name was her biggest problem. She could remember it fine, but she was afraid that when someone asked for it, she would answer with “Marielle Fortier” as she was used to saying, instead of “Michel Faucher”.
She swallowed her fear and realized that she had been so lost in her thoughts that she had walked too far. She turned around and walked, looking more carefully now for the place where the revolutionaries met. Marielle’s green eyes caught sight of it and she walked up to the door, took a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and stepped inside.
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Post by John 3:16 on Jan 8, 2017 4:24:07 GMT -5
Ethan caught the second suitcase as they ran, legs pumping as fast as he possibly could, trying to ignore the distant shouts coming from behind them. As long as those shouts stayed distant, they would be okay. He didn't stop running, not for a second, though his legs began to burn after a little while. He was meant for sprinting, not endurance. Not that he couldn't do endurance, of course he could - he had to, it was part of his job. It just wasn't Ethan's…natural strong suit. Soon they were getting closer to the outskirts of the city, judging by the fact that signs began to get more sparse and there was generally just more space. Good. If they could get out of the city they would have enough time to work out where they needed to go to get to the borders. Running like this made it very easy to become disoriented. Sebastian oh so desperately wanted to stop and take a break, his throat had gone cold and he was sure he was going to cough up blood after this long of a run. He wasn't supposed to be doing this, he wasn't in shape or fit at all, but he just kept his legs pumping and just kept himself going until the Nazis were as far back as they could get them, which did take a surprising amount of mental strength to keep running. Sebastian could tell they were getting closer to the city outskirts, and eventually the city limits, as said before things were getting more spaced out and it generally didn't have the feel of the town space they had both been in seemingly moments earlier. This was good. This was very good. They were starting to get into more of a forest-y kind of place, where it would be hard for regular transportation that the soldiers going after them would no doubt use, and Sebastian smiled as he passed by trees and leaped over roots. "You Or- alright?" Sebastian called back to Ethan, knowing that maybe the other wasn't fairing as well as he was.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 8, 2017 12:17:35 GMT -5
(Just letting everyone know that from tomorrow onward I will not be particularly active. I go back to school tomorrow and it's intense exam revision from now until June)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 8, 2017 12:22:07 GMT -5
(They are too cute <3) Julia shook her head. "This may be out of line to ask, but I could really use a hug right now." She looked a bit nervous, her stomach in knots. This young man had been her rock these past few weeks, the only thing keeping her going during her treatment here. She had began to keep everything bottled up inside her. She wondered when or ever, if they were going to get out of here. Unbeknown to them, the war was meeting its end outside the walls of the basement. "Nah, I don't think it's out of line at all" Harry smiled, moving closer to the woman and hugging her, wrapping her in as warm an embrace as he could possibly muster. They had supported each other as much as they possibly could, as they went from torture, to starvation, to illness and back again. Both of them had been going through exactly the same thing and he had been so grateful to have somebody to rely on,
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 8, 2017 12:47:20 GMT -5
"I've made the acquaintance of Mr Hamilton and Mr Madison, indeed," Isaac said "Mr Hamilton is more similar to me than anyone that I can say I have met. I can't say much about Mr Madison, we haven't spoken much. I also haven't yet had the chance to have a full conversation with Mr Jefferson, but since you are marrying him I am sure that an opportunity will soon arms. Well, I do hope that the decisions go well - Mr Aaron Burr has been keeping a close eye on Mr Hamilton and I do believe there are tensions bubbling forth between those two." Indeed, he couldn't understand how Hamilton and Burr considered themselves friends, considering that neither seemed to particularly like the other. But he supposed they had their reasons. "I've noticed the same thing, both are so similar I fear one will off the other." She said, frowning slightly when he mentioned her marriage. Looking down at the cloth in her hands, she simply sighed. What does one say to a man she cares for much, much more than she cares for her soon to be husband? "Are you okay?" Isaac asked gently when he caught her sighing at the mention of her marriage "You are…happy…aren't you? Because if you aren't happy, Eleanor, even for a second, you should tell me. I'll be there for you as best as I can."
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 8, 2017 12:52:51 GMT -5
"Oh, would you mind?" Eliza asked "there's just one pin that I think is in there too tight for me to be able to reach it. Once you take that pin out it should just be a plait, and I can wear it like that to bed" She always put her hair in a plait before doing her updos so that when she undid the style she'd be left with a plait. She liked to wear them for bed to stop t tangling too much. She had an evening off from caring for the queen - she had requested one of the other ladies that evening. It was a clear power play, trying to keep Eliza as far away from her, and therefore the king, as possible. It was a good move on her part, since everyone knew that once the king had his eye set on a lady-in-waiting, she would quickly become his mistress and then would likely quite quickly replace his wife. Agnes smiled as she made her way around to Eliza's hair. "Not at all." She said in answer to the question. She searched a moment, her long fingers delicately brushing through the beautiful strands of hair, careful not to ruin the plait before gently tugging out the pin. "Ah, there it is." She said with a grin, placing it with the rest of the hair pins that Eliza had already managed to get out. Stepping back around, Agnes stood a moment, knowing she shouldn't linger for no reason but not sure what else she needed to do here. "I am finished with your room but I was supposed to bring any laundry that you had down with me, was there anything you wanted me to take?" She asked tilting her head slightly and raising a questioning eyebrow. "Thank you," Eliza had said when she felt the pin finally come loose from her hair, allowing her undo to tumble down into a thick red plait down her back. She watched as the woman looked to see if there was anything else to do "I don't think there's anything to take, but I think you should know, for tomorrow's meal preparations, that the King has had a real hankering for venison lately. I can find out what he craves, if you want? I know you serve the meals and you could pass on the information to the cooks in the kitchen. It makes sure that the King gets what he wants"
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 8, 2017 12:58:34 GMT -5
"The people at home?" Adele asked "Well, yes, we are like that. We tend to think quite similarly to your people, but we are less strategic, I think. We are analysers, but I wouldn't call us particularly aggressive. I suppose that's why we don't make very good strategists in general. I mean, it's are to explain us, but I would say that we do all seem to have similarities. I think it's just that our cultures encourage people to think in certain ways" She too finished her food, and her food was taken away moments later. It was kind of interesting, sitting here,, chatting about what each other's people were like. It didn't seem like they were all that different, which Adele suspected would be useful for her people, who had a whole new society to integrate into,most probably. Emeline nodded. That made sense, she supposed. She knew very little of Adele's former Kingdom and the people that lived in it, and their culture was very much a mystery to her. But it seemed, at least from what little she'd been told, that they were quite similar, which wasn't too surprising considering the proximity.
"Do you have anywhere you wish to go?" she asked, nodding to the now empty table before them. "We can stay, if you'd like, but there are much more comfortable chairs elsewhere." These weren't half as comfortable as a sitting chair would be, they were made to eat in and nothing more. Entertainment would take place elsewhere once everyone had finished their meals. "I don't have anywhere in particular, but I don't feel like it is a good idea for me to be here if and when your parents return. Is there anywhere you would like to go?" Adele replied She didn't know the castle well, but she knew Emeline did, and she suspected that the girl would have some good suggestions as to places they could go around the castle. Better than anything Adele could come up with, at any rate. She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be comfortable with the castle, if she'd ever know it well enough to navigate it. Probably not. Either she wouldn't at all or she would but she would never be comfortable in it. It would never feel like home
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 8, 2017 13:27:26 GMT -5
( Here's the starter. Sorry this took so long! I was really busy this afternoon. )
Marielle clutched her golden hair, bringing it to the front so she could look at it. It had gotten pretty long, going about three fourths of the way down her back. And now, it would have to go. She rather liked her hair, and she guessed that she would miss it, but right now, Marielle was afraid of it. What if someone thought her hair looked more feminine or something and became suspicious of her? She shook the thought from her head, but she knew that it wouldn't last long. These thoughts had been plaguing her mind all day ever since she had made up her mind to disguise herself as a man and join the revolution. They had haunted her dreams, creating nightmares where others had found out in various ways who she really was.
Marielle sighed and picked up the knife in her right hand. Its sharp blade was typically used to cut bread, but now she was using it to cut her hair. She swung the knife through the golden strands, which slipped through her fingers and fell on the floor. She cut off a few more strands and looked into the mirror. What her green eyes saw almost startled her. Marielle had been fully aware that she would look much different, but in her mind’s eye she still saw herself as she looked before she had thought of doing this. She was used to looking in the mirror and seeing a woman, a normal, typical woman, not one who was disguising herself as a man.
The short hair would help convince people, but was it enough? She looked away from the mirror. All that she had done would have to be enough. Cutting her hair, wearing men’s clothes, and even talking in a deeper voice had to convince them. She wanted to do this, more than anything else. She wanted to fight for what she believed in and help change the future into a different place. And now, she was ready to start doing just that.
Marielle opened the door of the small house and left, not looking back. Her fingers nervously fidgeting at her sides as she walked, she tried to look as though she wasn't as stressed as she felt. She was going over the information for her new identity. Marielle had to make sure that she had all of the information down. One thing contradicting another could lead to suspicion. The name was her biggest problem. She could remember it fine, but she was afraid that when someone asked for it, she would answer with “Marielle Fortier” as she was used to saying, instead of “Michel Faucher”.
She swallowed her fear and realized that she had been so lost in her thoughts that she had walked too far. She turned around and walked, looking more carefully now for the place where the revolutionaries met. Marielle’s green eyes caught sight of it and she walked up to the door, took a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and stepped inside. Antoine Clement had joined the revolution a little while ago, and he'd done so to not only fight for freedom (as he saw it, anyway) but to show his parents that he had his own beliefs. Antoine's parents were quite rich, it was true, and because they were of the aristocracy they didn't support the revolution. So Antoine had left, and his parents had, in true aristocratic fashion, proceeded to cut him off and disown him. Not that Antoine minded. He never liked his family anyway, if he were honest. Some said that Antoine had simply feared for his life and that joining the revolution had been an act of self-preservation, but Antoine and anyone who knew him knew otherwise, which was all that mattered to him. The revolutionaries were never going to take kindly to a rich boy joining their ranks. Not that he could call himself rich anymore, but he wouldn't miss it. He'd always felt like an outsider when he was rich, like nobody really trusted him, like he didn't quite fit in. The world of aristocracy simply wasn't for Antoine. He was sitting in a well-concealed building, an abandoned house, which was a well-known meeting place of the revolutionaries. He and a few fiends were sitting around a table, each holding a mug of beer and talking over a few plans. This was how it seemed to be at every table - revolutionaries talking in groups around tables and coming to decisions that way. Whatever it was, it seemed to work. Antoine was average height, well-built, with tanned skin and blonde hair, paired with deep blue eyes. So in terms of coloration, he wasn't too average but also not too standout. He looked around, as well as a few other revolutionaries, when someone new entered into the building. Wait, were they new? They must be - Antoine hadn't seen them around here before, as far as he knew. The man gave a little wave of greeting before turning back to his friends, knowing that the new revolutionary would find a table to sit at. They'd introduce themselves to one revolutionary and within a few days everyone in the revolution would know them and be able to identify them - that was how the revolution worked. They were good communicators, and messages passed around quickly, whether you wanted them to or not. People in the rebellion soon knew everything about yourself that you dared speak out loud, sometimes along with a few secrets you were sure you'd never told. It was funny, that. The revolution was like a hive of bees, in that way, with everyone sharing knowledge and skills and information. Perhaps that was why there were able to stand up to the French army. They knew how to communicate.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 8, 2017 13:37:27 GMT -5
Ethan caught the second suitcase as they ran, legs pumping as fast as he possibly could, trying to ignore the distant shouts coming from behind them. As long as those shouts stayed distant, they would be okay. He didn't stop running, not for a second, though his legs began to burn after a little while. He was meant for sprinting, not endurance. Not that he couldn't do endurance, of course he could - he had to, it was part of his job. It just wasn't Ethan's…natural strong suit. Soon they were getting closer to the outskirts of the city, judging by the fact that signs began to get more sparse and there was generally just more space. Good. If they could get out of the city they would have enough time to work out where they needed to go to get to the borders. Running like this made it very easy to become disoriented. Sebastian oh so desperately wanted to stop and take a break, his throat had gone cold and he was sure he was going to cough up blood after this long of a run. He wasn't supposed to be doing this, he wasn't in shape or fit at all, but he just kept his legs pumping and just kept himself going until the Nazis were as far back as they could get them, which did take a surprising amount of mental strength to keep running. Sebastian could tell they were getting closer to the city outskirts, and eventually the city limits, as said before things were getting more spaced out and it generally didn't have the feel of the town space they had both been in seemingly moments earlier. This was good. This was very good. They were starting to get into more of a forest-y kind of place, where it would be hard for regular transportation that the soldiers going after them would no doubt use, and Sebastian smiled as he passed by trees and leaped over roots. "You Or- alright?" Sebastian called back to Ethan, knowing that maybe the other wasn't fairing as well as he was. "I'm fine," Ethan replied as he also navigated the forested areas - it seemed Sebastian knew this area a lot better than Ethan and so the Brit was more than satisfied to let the other man lead the way "I'm just more of a sprinter than a long-distance" There were required levels of endurance for spies, of course, but Ethan was more suited to sprinting, which was part of why he had been selected for this mission. He was good at quick in-and-out infiltrations because of his speed, and this mission would have required a lot of those if he'd actually managed to do much in it. This - the kind of in-and-get-as-far-away-as-possible missions - was not Ethan's strong suit, and he wasn't generally picked for these. Which was good because when you had to run this far it generally meant having to get out of range of a bomb, and Ethan wasn't particularly a fan of being blown up, if he could help it.
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Post by Heather Chandler on Jan 8, 2017 14:58:08 GMT -5
Marielle looked around the abandoned house. It was pretty much what she had expected to see; there were lots of tables, and sitting at each table was a few people discussing things, most likely plans for the revolution. A few people waved to Marielle, and she waved back, but to her relief no one said anything to her or really paid her much attention. That was good. The less people talked to her, the less she had to say, and the less she had to say, the easier it would be to keep her true identity hidden.
Continuing to look around, she knew that she couldn't just stand near the door forever. She started to walk around, looking for an available seat at one of the tables while her mind was whirring with a thousand thoughts. This was it, wasn't it? It was her time to help win the revolution. That was, if a simple mistake didn't uncover the fact that she was a woman. With everyone seated at different tables, Marielle figured that information must spread like wildfire from table to table. If she wasn't careful, everyone would know in no time that she wasn't supposed to be there.
Trying to calm herself down, she took a deep breath, only breathing through her nose so that the revolutionaries would be less likely to notice. She came across a table with an open seat and sat down there. The revolutionaries said hello to her, and she said hello to them, making sure to lower her voice like she had practiced. They asked her some questions, like what her name was, how old she was, and why she wanted to help the revolution. All of the questions were answered with lies except for the last one. She thought she did pretty well, and no one looked as though they suspected anything of her. So far, so good.
Aside from the stress that she was feeling, Marielle was enjoying herself. The revolutionaries were nice and she liked talking to them about their different ideas on how to help the revolution. She even offered a few ideas of her own. In all, she found it a nice experience. She wasn't regretting her choice to disguise herself and join the revolution. At first, it had been worth it just to help, but now, Marielle found herself enjoying the entire process of helping.
She was now starting to believe that she could really do this. She could fight in the revolution, no, not just fight in it. She believed she could win the revolution, and without anyone suspecting her of really being a woman. And she was going to try as hard as she could to make sure that really happened.
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Post by Blossomshadow on Jan 8, 2017 15:58:37 GMT -5
"Thank you." She whispered gratefully, giving him a full embrace. She knew that she must smell horrid, but then again, they both smelled the same so... She felt his heart beat against her ear. She thought it was soothing. She still could barely see him in the dark but had grown accustomed to the darkness, and her eyes were able to make him out and give her a face in return. She fell asleep to the sound of his strong heartbeat.
(Now should we roleplay them getting rescued?)
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Post by liz on Jan 8, 2017 19:34:18 GMT -5
"C-can I be honest with you?" Eleanor asked softly, staring at the ground her eyes watering slightly. Glancing up at the man, it became harder to hold back her tears and she shook her head, looking away as she raised a hand to cover her face. She'd always thought herself an ugly crier, she couldn't bare to think of doing such a thing in front of a man who looked at her like she was the most beautiful masterpiece in a museum. She couldn't bare to imagine his thoughts right now, becoming extremely embarrassed as she stood in silence.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 11, 2017 12:36:38 GMT -5
Marielle looked around the abandoned house. It was pretty much what she had expected to see; there were lots of tables, and sitting at each table was a few people discussing things, most likely plans for the revolution. A few people waved to Marielle, and she waved back, but to her relief no one said anything to her or really paid her much attention. That was good. The less people talked to her, the less she had to say, and the less she had to say, the easier it would be to keep her true identity hidden.
Continuing to look around, she knew that she couldn't just stand near the door forever. She started to walk around, looking for an available seat at one of the tables while her mind was whirring with a thousand thoughts. This was it, wasn't it? It was her time to help win the revolution. That was, if a simple mistake didn't uncover the fact that she was a woman. With everyone seated at different tables, Marielle figured that information must spread like wildfire from table to table. If she wasn't careful, everyone would know in no time that she wasn't supposed to be there.
Trying to calm herself down, she took a deep breath, only breathing through her nose so that the revolutionaries would be less likely to notice. She came across a table with an open seat and sat down there. The revolutionaries said hello to her, and she said hello to them, making sure to lower her voice like she had practiced. They asked her some questions, like what her name was, how old she was, and why she wanted to help the revolution. All of the questions were answered with lies except for the last one. She thought she did pretty well, and no one looked as though they suspected anything of her. So far, so good.
Aside from the stress that she was feeling, Marielle was enjoying herself. The revolutionaries were nice and she liked talking to them about their different ideas on how to help the revolution. She even offered a few ideas of her own. In all, she found it a nice experience. She wasn't regretting her choice to disguise herself and join the revolution. At first, it had been worth it just to help, but now, Marielle found herself enjoying the entire process of helping.
She was now starting to believe that she could really do this. She could fight in the revolution, no, not just fight in it. She believed she could win the revolution, and without anyone suspecting her of really being a woman. And she was going to try as hard as she could to make sure that really happened. Antoine watched as the man - Michel Faucher, was it? - sat at his table, and he listened to the questions and answers the other revolutionary gave. He didn't ask any questions of his own, mostly because he hadn't wanted to answer questions when he first came and he didn't want to be responsible for making others as uncomfortable as he had been. He had wanted to reveal things at his own pace. When the man answered the questions about why he had wanted to join the revolution, a few of Antoine's friends nodded, clearly impressed with his answer. "That's good - at least you have a good reason," began one of Antoine's friends, before gesturing to Antoine with a thumb "Not like Mr Rich Kid over here, who only joined up to prove he could live without daddy's cash" "Not true," Antoine insisted, before turning to the newcomer "Don't listen to a word he says. My parents just happened to cut me off when I joined, I didn't plan it. I joined for the same reasons as anyone else" "Call it what you want," his friend smirked "You're still trying to one-up your parents. Come on, Antoine, you know it's true." He turned back to his friend, and smiled "At least I am managing without a franc of my parents' money, which is more than a lot of people can say. So shut it. I work more jobs than you" His friend laughed but didn't say anything else on the topic after that, something Antoine took to mean he'd won whatever that little dispute was. He didn't exactly know what to call it - it could hardly be called an argument. It was one he and his friends had every day as a way of teasing, and they often just teased and mocked each other. But for whatever reason Antoine hadn't felt much like teasing back if he were honest. Maybe he didn't want this newcomer to think he was really like that, a spoiled rich kid trying to prove a point and trying to save their head when his parents inevitably landed in hot water. Maybe he was just not in a teasing mood that day. Or maybe he just didn't care about teasing anymore. He had no idea what it was.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 11, 2017 12:44:25 GMT -5
"Thank you." She whispered gratefully, giving him a full embrace. She knew that she must smell horrid, but then again, they both smelled the same so... She felt his heart beat against her ear. She thought it was soothing. She still could barely see him in the dark but had grown accustomed to the darkness, and her eyes were able to make him out and give her a face in return. She fell asleep to the sound of his strong heartbeat. (Now should we roleplay them getting rescued?) [Sure!] "You're welcome," Harry smiled, quickly moving away when he heard movement coming from the doorway. A Nazi? No - he heard shouting. Shouting in English. Suddenly the light of a torch was in Harry's face and he put up his arm to shield his eyes from the sudden light. "Oh my God," he heard a voice say "They've got prisoners. And they've been starving them. Anyone got an ID check on these?" "Sure" he heard another voice say, though it was crackling - through a microphone? "I'm checking the logs now" A moment later - "Harry Johnson and Julia Reynolds." "They both went MIA months ago!" said the voice, surprised, and Harry heard the sounds of clicking - he must be picking the lock.
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Post by Blossomshadow on Jan 11, 2017 12:52:00 GMT -5
Julia started to cry, out of fear and relief. "Harry," She whimpered, beginning to succumb to her injuries. "Please don't leave me." She sounded pretty messed up. She was beyond traumatized from her whole torturing ordeal and not to mention was super sick. She reached out to him, eyes droopping. She wanted to throw up and did, moments later in the corner. It smelled foul.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 11, 2017 12:54:21 GMT -5
"C-can I be honest with you?" Eleanor asked softly, staring at the ground her eyes watering slightly. Glancing up at the man, it became harder to hold back her tears and she shook her head, looking away as she raised a hand to cover her face. She'd always thought herself an ugly crier, she couldn't bare to think of doing such a thing in front of a man who looked at her like she was the most beautiful masterpiece in a museum. She couldn't bare to imagine his thoughts right now, becoming extremely embarrassed as she stood in silence. "What? Are you not?" Isaac asked, and pulled her closer when it seemed she was about to cry, pulling her into a warm hug to try and help her feel better "If you're not happy, Eleanor, don't marry him. Marry someone you love, someone you would be happy to marry. I'm sure there must be someone who would make you happy like that." Of course, he dreamed it could be him, but he knew it couldn't be. What about Eleanor's family? They would never accept him, never.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 11, 2017 12:56:06 GMT -5
Julia started to cry, out of fear and relief. "Harry," She whimpered, beginning to succumb to her injuries. "Please don't leave me." She sounded pretty messed up. She was beyond traumatized from her whole torturing ordeal and not to mention was super sick. She reached out to him, eyes droopping. She wanted to throw up and did, moments later in the corner. It smelled foul. Harry shushed her gently as their rescuer worked on the door, even while she was being sick, not even wrinkling his nose at the smell. "Shh," he said gently "I'm not going anywhere. We're getting out of here now, and you're going to get better, and we're going to have our lives back again"
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Post by liz on Jan 11, 2017 15:25:41 GMT -5
"I can't. You know that," she said in a shaky voice. "I need to think of my family. If I marry Thomas, my sisters can marry whoever they love. I should do this for them. But I can't stop these horrible thoughts. I feel so selfish." She choked, rapping her arms around his torso. She loved Isaac, she knew she did. She hardly knew a thing about him, she knew Thomas much better, she could rely on Thomas but she wanted Isaac. She needed him.
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Post by 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘯 on Jan 11, 2017 16:12:24 GMT -5
Emeline nodded. That made sense, she supposed. She knew very little of Adele's former Kingdom and the people that lived in it, and their culture was very much a mystery to her. But it seemed, at least from what little she'd been told, that they were quite similar, which wasn't too surprising considering the proximity.
"Do you have anywhere you wish to go?" she asked, nodding to the now empty table before them. "We can stay, if you'd like, but there are much more comfortable chairs elsewhere." These weren't half as comfortable as a sitting chair would be, they were made to eat in and nothing more. Entertainment would take place elsewhere once everyone had finished their meals. "I don't have anywhere in particular, but I don't feel like it is a good idea for me to be here if and when your parents return. Is there anywhere you would like to go?" Adele replied She didn't know the castle well, but she knew Emeline did, and she suspected that the girl would have some good suggestions as to places they could go around the castle. Better than anything Adele could come up with, at any rate. She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be comfortable with the castle, if she'd ever know it well enough to navigate it. Probably not. Either she wouldn't at all or she would but she would never be comfortable in it. It would never feel like home Emeline thought for a moment, considering the places she hadn't yet shown her. "How about I show you the gardens," she offered after a moment, thinking back to their conversation about it earlier. "It's beautiful this time of year, and you haven't seen them yet. If you don't mind spending a little longer on your feet."
She rose, because regardless of if they ended up in the gardens or not, Adele had a point. Neither of them should still be there when her parents inevitably returned, having reached a silent agreement they wouldn't bother enlightening her about. They'd either return still in a fury, or they'd be ready to scold them both for breaking rules that hadn't been there minutes ago. Neither sounded tempting.
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