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Four of Wands Reversed: Uncertain Social Harmony
Topic Started: Jan 19 2015, 12:43 AM (507 Views)
Agatha Hall
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Elder
[]
The small crowd was gathering on the fringes of warmth at the door of the Green Man.

Four men, dressed for hard toil each with their hats jauntily placed on the head, are exchanging talk of possible work at the nearby canal. Two stout dogs on rope leashes crouch glumly at the base of a outside water butt.

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The strains of a folk ballad can be heard from inside the bar. Several, less professional, voices are joining in with enthusiasm.

Sooty smoke and the stale smell of ale hang heavy in the cold air.

Agatha makes her way to the bar. Hearing the sound of song and cheer.

Small and lithe, Agatha has startling porcelain skin, fair hair and excited, eager eyes. With her hair tied into two long plaited braids tied with dark purple ribbon bows. She's dressed a little younger than her years might suggest - the coding of the plaits and hair worn down indicates she wishes to be seen as youthful.

Agatha's dressed in a shawl, a little bonnet and clutching a walking cane and a neatly embroidered money purse. The hem of her skirt is short enough to match the style of youthfulness and shows her single stockinged leg to mid calf. It's clear that she's wearing a single laced boot and that one leg is a simple, if clearly well looked after, wooden peg leg that - to judge by its style and her limp, it probably extends above her knee.

The two dogs look up at her passing and growl a throaty alarm. Innocent of the possible threat, a tug on the leash from one of the heavier set canal workers silences the growling. He turns to nod an apology to Agatha and tip his hat.

Nodding her thanks and to acknowledge his gesture, Agatha smiles.

Her wooden leg taps hard on the cobbles. Pausing at the doorway, she's checking the size and nature of the crowd within.
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Helena Serieux
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Methuselah
[]
Helena sat at her carved oak vanity unity, her palms flat together, her index fingers resting lightly against her lips. Her eyes stared unblinking at her mirrored self. Another experiment had concluded. Another failure had been carefully documented. If anyone wished to know the extremes under which a blood bond could hold, she thought ruefully, Helena had it well documented.

Yet failure was not acceptable. She had to continue her work if she was to have hope, if she was to return to her days lost. The experiments had to escalate. She had to move beyond the animal kingdom and into the realm of proper subjects... sentient subjects. Her mind recoiled at the thought, eyes fluttering closed as her head twisted away. Her conscience balked and she knew that to do this would be to lose a part of herself. The thought slithered down her spine and settled as a cold weight in the pit of her stomach.

The Toreador rose, a fluid motion of wondrous grace. She needed a distraction, to let the thought percolate in her subconsciousness for a while. Perhaps an alternative solution would present itself. For now, she wanted to immerse herself in people. Surround her dead heart with people, expose it to love, life and laughter and remind herself of all that was gone.

She raised her chin and exercised her will*, calling out with her force of personality. Margaret was a terrible maid, lazy and prone to hide herself rather than work. Her one redemption for Helena was her body. She was not a woman Helena desired, rather her body was immensely close in form to Helena's own and Helena needed the woman's attire for the evening.

*Presence 4: Summon.
Edited by Helena Serieux, Jan 20 2015, 11:26 PM.
Merits: Well Traveled, Refined, Natural Leader, Occult Library, Manor, True Love
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Flaws: Vengeance, Driving Goal, Infamous Sire, Sire's Resentment, Vengeful Childe/Jilted Paramour
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Agatha Hall
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Elder
[]
Unaware of Helena's plans and intentions, Agatha has scouted out several of the patrons and tried to assess the general mood of the bar. She raises her free hand in greeting and offers a cheery; "God Bless all here!"

Three men, backs bent with the contortions of hard labor in the fields, nod to acknowledge Agatha's greeting, but soon turn back to their own conversations.

A broad chested man is singing the conclusion to a hearty folk-ballad. Several drinking friends watch in drunken admiration and raise their pipes and tankards and join in the last rousing chorus.

Leaning on her cane, Agatha nods a happy greeting to several patrons who glance her way. Limping closer to the bar, hoping to buy a drink to at least look appear to fit in, Agatha smiles to the landlord and tries to guess what ale and gin might be available.

The men at the bar briefly study tiny Agatha before getting back to their drinks, pipes and talk.

Waiting her turn, she rubs at her peg leg and listens to the old folk song.

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Helena Serieux
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Methuselah
[]
Helena strode purposefully through the narrowed streets of York having left her carriage far from her destination. She wanted a cloak of anonymity and arriving with her own driver would not achieve that. She knew her destination, her auspex-heightened hearing had made her privy to a conversation held by two of her students. Alice and Rosemary were cousins so close in age and companionship they were akin to sisters. Helena had been engaged by their fathers to educate the young morsels ready for their presentation. Of course, they held their own council on what topics were of interest and The Green Man had been mentioned more than once. Her maid, Margaret, had willingly divulged the location of the tavern as she shed her clothes hours before.

A sound ahead drew Helena's attention to the present. A man stumbled in the street before her, his movements marking him clearly as intoxicated. "Whoee.. thar'sh'a pretty 'un." He staggered towards her. "I's gotta pretty penny iff'n ya willing?" Anger snarled in her chest, her frustration from her failure coupling with her outrage at his actions. She drew herself up, ready to unleash the full magnitude of herself at him and hesitated. He was clearly drunk and her Presence worked on emotion. His reaction could not necessarily be anticipated. Besides, there was also some satisfaction to be had through other methods.

She closed the distance with a step before her form blurred, her vitae fueling her clans ability and letting her move at the limits of human potential*. She was within his reach before his mind could register the motion and begin to react. Palms forward, she drove both hands into his chest**. The alcohol already had him staggered, the man crashed to the floor, head lolling and a groan rising as the pain slowly registered.

"No. Thank you. I have plans." It was petty, it was unneeded and she certainly expected better of her girls. Helena walked from the street with a smiling hinting on her lips. My was violence satisfying on occasion.

***

Helena opened the door to the pub and stepped inside as the folk song reached it's crescendo. The sound of merriment roared into the street as the Toreador stepped inside. Men stood with drinks raised, mouths wide with song. Ale splashed onto the worn blue of Helena's skirts. She skittered back into the doorway, surprise on her face. "HA!" Bellowed a nearby man, foam soaking his bristling mustache. "Never fails. A beaut' walks in and Tommy drops his pint." Raucous laughter filled the room, infectious in its enthusiasm.

This was what Helena needed. Humanity. Stripped of pretension and vibrant. She wanted to immerse herself within it before choosing the next phase of her experimentation. Before choosing to methodically destroy a person.

* Celerity 1
** Potence 1
Merits: Well Traveled, Refined, Natural Leader, Occult Library, Manor, True Love
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Flaws: Vengeance, Driving Goal, Infamous Sire, Sire's Resentment, Vengeful Childe/Jilted Paramour
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Agatha Hall
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Elder
[]
The singing reaches a climax and Agatha, cane clutched under her arm, applauds with vigor. The crowd cheer.

The song was a good one. She'd heard it before. This man had brought a life to it, though. Not technically polished, but, in a place like this, that mattered little.

Her peg leg tapped to join in the applause too.

As the singer found his many friends patting him on the shoulders and pushing beer his way, another call came up from the crowd. Some banter.

Then a figure fell to the ground and jests were made at his...

It was then that Agatha saw the strongest, most confident, the most beautiful, chamber maid she'd ever seen.

Blinking, she almost dropped her cane. This woman, dressed as if for the parlor, had seemingly bested Tommy. A man whom, Agatha guessed, was more used to lifting shovelfuls of muddy earth from railway embankments than China cups.

An easy quip on the maid's lips removed any recourse Tommy may have felt to fists or threats.

Amazed, Agatha simply watched.

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Helena Serieux
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Methuselah
[]
This was unusual. Visiting the domain of the lower classes was something Helena had done previously but not since Aklina's embrace, some forty or so years previously and only in St Petersburg. It was more novel than unnerving to find herself socially awkward as she was confident none in here could do her harm should she wish.

Her lips twitched and she tittered nervously, stalling for time as she pondered how to respond. That chance was taken from her as the same bearded man stepped alongside the pint-spiller spoke loudly once more. "Bah, Thomas, have you no manners?" Thomas grinned, glancing at the speaker in confusion. "You can never leave a lass wet and waiting." Teeth flashed in the speakers smile as the pubs occupants roared in laughter at the crude humour, he was a showman and loved it. He patted Thomas once on the back, then shoved him into Helena. "You get her dancing!"

At his cue, the musicians sprang into life with a high-spirited tune. Anger flared in Helena's chest as Thomas laid his hands on her waist. Who was he to dare touch her? No, she repressed her Beast ruthlessly, that is the anger of Helena Serieux, tonight I am Helena-the-chambermaid. Thomas was a solid young man who, from his solid physique, clearly performed manual labour. Helena, for all her scores of years experience, for all her vampiric might, had the body of a slender woman, full of promise. She was light in his grip, and the floor behind Thomas cleared as he spun her into.

The Toreador was startled. She had danced at court and at home, she had danced for pleasure and danced for politics. She had never danced like this. The tempo was quick and Thomas' feet moved to match it. He pulled her with him as she stumbled into the motions, his hands planted firmly on her as he pulled her about the impromptu dance floor.

It took maybe a half minute for Helena to recover and adapt, her footwork had to be quick but she was up to the task. More importantly, she would be the one to lead. She placed her hands on his wrists and with a quick application of pressure, forced his grip from her.* She spun away from him and stopped as suddenly as the music whilst he looked from his hands to her in surprise.

A familiar, predatory smile rose on Helena's features, her eyes flicking to one of the musicians and, with a nod, the music bounced back once more. She twirled back to Thomas, snared one hand in her own and slipped the other behind his shoulder before pulling him into her dance. They moved quickly, Helena leading Thomas in a dynamic dance, springing this way and that. It became clear that Thomas could not keep up and, with a final twirl, Helena sent Thomas spinning to the edge. He staggered, but caught himself before falling even as Helena turned to the closest man, pulling him from his chair to the amusement of all.

She kept the dance simple for him as she bore him no ill regard. His eyes bulged as she pressed close, dancing across the floor towards her target: the bearded comic. His mouth was parted with laughter but his eyes were on the room, noting how the crowd had changed and were supporting her dance rather than laughing at her discomfort and his comedic 'excellence'. He saw himself as their leader Helena knew as she moved fluidly, depositing her partner even as she hooked her elbow into the comedian's own pulling her into the floor through her twirl.

Their eyes met and they each knew the other. They were born leaders despite the vast gulf between their worlds. She turned him about, suddenly changing direction and keeping him in one place. They were clashing in the midst of his people, on the battlefield he had chosen yet she had an arsenal he had not reckoned upon. Once more, she suddenly switched directions. The crowd cheered as the two danced, unaware of the power struggle the two enacted. While his mouth laughed, his eyes narrowed and his mind whirred to find his own advantage.

He could not, for as she flipped their revolutions once more, her fingers tapped his shoulders in a seemingly light pat*. The potence-fueled blow was too weak to do more than bruise him but coupled with his disorientation it was enough. Helena skipped over his legs as he sprawled over the floor to the laughter of the room. She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head in mock despair. She spoke, deliberately emphasizing her normally trace French accent. "'Ow tragique! Vraiment, as there is no man to dance with..."

Helena raised her arms over her head and pirouetted once more. Planting a foot, she stopped in front of Agatha. The Toreador drew upon the latent power of her Presence as she smiled warmly, shared a wink and offered a hand to the woman before her.

*Potence 1
Merits: Well Traveled, Refined, Natural Leader, Occult Library, Manor, True Love
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Flaws: Vengeance, Driving Goal, Infamous Sire, Sire's Resentment, Vengeful Childe/Jilted Paramour
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Agatha Hall
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Elder
[]
Agatha still had yet to be served by the landlord. But now the dazzling chambermaid had, quite literally, stolen the whole show.

She quipped with Thomas, the band started up a jig and the rest watched Thomas spar and joust with the French maid. Her accent gave that much away and explained a great deal...

Such beauty! Such grace... such refined steps of her dancing! Her legs, her legs must be truly amazing!

Agatha gripped her cane even tighter. Watching, wide eyed, she studied the lady's easy footsteps. Admiring the ease with which this powerful woman made the pub her own playground.

Even more mysterious was why this astonishing lady suddenly denied Thomas a rematch with her jig and, pausing, offered her hand to Agatha.

Blinking. Gasping. She did not hesitate. She couldn't. There was something fully magnetic about the French lady. Something irresistible.

Agatha, smiling, a keen student of showmanship, knew not to hesitate too long. It was almost instantaneous. The tiny girl took Helena's hand and allowed herself to be danced in a strange, unfamiliar, jig.

It had been many, many years since Agatha had dared dance. Quickly, she became aware of Helena's aroma and scent. The refined lingering scents of rare perfumes.

The elegant aroma of expensive soaps.

This was no ordinary lady! This was... Agatha reached for the word... she found herself thinking of a Fairy Tale Princess in disguise. Descending from her high castle whilst under some enchantment!

Her wooden leg barely touched the floor as the strongest woman she'd ever met held her without trouble. Agatha giggled as she was spun around and around.

Helena might yet catch Agatha's cheaper aroma of soap and more than a fair share of peppermint for toothpaste.

Her tiny hands held fast to Helena and found herself wishing the dance would never, ever stop. Such was the allure of this Princess.

"Oh, Miss!" she gasped in a breathless, beguiled, whisper as the she and Helena span through and around the delighted crowd for the third time. The band's enthusiasm and obedience were now clear. The tempo mounted. Agatha's peg leg tapped to the floor only on every fifth beat. She'd never felt so weightless!

Thomas could only look on, not risking a scowl. He risked only folding his strong and muscular arms in a discontented gesture. Wondering what other plans this lady had in mind for making the Green Man her own.


Edited by Agatha Hall, Jan 25 2015, 02:39 AM.
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Helena Serieux
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Methuselah
[]
Something was wrong.

Helena let her attention drift, her thoughts churning to uncover the reason for her wariness. Untold years of experience took over, her body twisting and turning as she led her partner about the floor. Her dance was passable. It was too rough and improvised to impress at court, but it captivated the room well enough.

It was not the woman she danced with. Yes, she was a cripple but between Helena's own experience, her vampiric strength and her partners obvious practice with her peg leg they moved well enough. As for her partner being a woman, that was desirable rather than problematic and in recent decades she had danced more with Akilina than any other.

Her eyes scanned the crowd as they moved. There was no threat there. They cheered and jostled for a better view, no doubt wanting eyefuls of leg and cleavage as the women moved. Her gaze fell on her bearded foe, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes narrow and chest heaving from exertion.

His chest was heaving.

Helena felt like an idiot as she forced her lungs to action. As kindred, she need only draw breath to speak and it had slipped her mind that she needed to show it once more. Her bosom swelled with breath within her bodice. Swelled against Agatha's chest as it did not. Her eyes slid to regard her partner. There was no time for an aura reading, but she had no perspiration and she did not seem to need breath.

Helena slid from Agatha, moving them both to extend apart, gripping each other by just their hands. Neither hand held any warmth for the other. Helena tugged her arm, spinning Agatha in close so she could whisper in her ear. "Breathe or breach." With a final turn, the two stopped, Helena held one arm dramatically in the air and her attention focused on Agatha, gauging her reaction.
Merits: Well Traveled, Refined, Natural Leader, Occult Library, Manor, True Love
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Flaws: Vengeance, Driving Goal, Infamous Sire, Sire's Resentment, Vengeful Childe/Jilted Paramour
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Agatha Hall
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Elder
[]
Agatha's peg leg tapped and tripped off the floor as Helena danced and span.

The crowd was absorbed by Helena's beauty and vivacity. It was an electrifying experience!

She knew that the crowd was all-eyes for the beautiful chambermaid, but she was game enough to lift her calf-length dress to just above the knee to join in the demonstration required.

It was all part of the atmosphere.

Dancing required a lot of her attention. More than she'd imagined and Helena's whisper came as a surreal surprise.

It was a useful, timely surprise though.

Blinking. Nodding and smiling to the crowd and Helena, she gasped to replicate heavy breathing. It had been exhilarating and... it seems... informative.

Dipping a theatrical curtsy to the crowd and then Helena, Agatha nodded her multi-layered understanding.

She breathed again and, wide eyed, held fast to the hem of her dress.

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Helena Serieux
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Methuselah
[]
With a cheer of the crowd, Helena brought the dance to it's climax. The kindred ended with the Malkavian bent backwards, supported by Helena's hand in the small of her back with the Toreador looming over her. A long beat later, she raised her peg-legged companion back to standing and bowed to the audience, bending at the waist rather than offering a curtsey. As her head dipped, she took the opportunity to murmur of Agatha's ears, "We must talk."

The Toreador rose, an enchanting smile lay over her features as she exerted her will on the inn's occupants. "Monsieurs, mademoisselles, truly, I thank you all. I thought I might find my friend here and as well I found many, many more. Thank you to my dance partners," her smile twitched with mockery as her gaze swept over the bearded man, "thank you to wonderful music-makers, thank you all!" She swept her arm wide and was met by another cheer.

"Bon, but I cannot dance again. I did come to meet my friend. Monsieur barkeep, might we have a private room to speak?" The barman, a rotund gentleman of middling years nodded his swift agreement. He hurried from the bar, head bobbing with each step, "this way, this way."

Helena took Agatha's hand in her own, leading her through the disappointed people to the back of the in, up a small flight of stairs and to the small chamber the innkeeper had unlocked for them. He ushered them inside and then stood hovering nearby, eagerly asking: "Anything else miss's? I can get you refreshments? Maybe some food? Or..."

Helena silenced him with a hand on his wrist as she plucked the key from his fingers. "Privacy, please." She spoke softly and with a final head-bob, he hurried away. Helena lingered at the doorway for a moment, switching her attention from her Presence to her senses until she was satisfied they were alone.** Then she closed the door and turned to Agatha, offering her a key with a raised eyebrow.


*Presence 1: Awe
**Auspex 1: Heightened Senses
Merits: Well Traveled, Refined, Natural Leader, Occult Library, Manor, True Love
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Flaws: Vengeance, Driving Goal, Infamous Sire, Sire's Resentment, Vengeful Childe/Jilted Paramour
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