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srwug_alpha_rp2013-08-07 02:19 pm
armored_fruit) wrote in srwug_alpha_rp2013-08-07 02:19 pm
Entry tags:
02: How an Aristocrat Mourns.
[1]
Isaac has been dressing in darker colors these past few days, in mourning for the deaths of his comrades, Dozer and Chips.
As you walk by the cafeteria, you notice him sitting at a table, writing something in elegant cursive on some sheets of paper with a fountain pen.
Take a closer look?
[2]
He's managed to get his sword back from Richard, and is in the garden area, practicing forms, over and over again. They're mainly brutal chops and log-splitting slashes, moves designed to win battles in the first few seconds. His body is quivering with exhaustion.
[3]
For some reason, he's dressed in brighter clothes this particular day, with only a black arm-band around his sleeve. You notice him heading to the computer room and reserving a comm booth for himself.
If you decide to get sneaky, you can peak in and see him talking to an old, matriarchal figure, dressed in a high-necked blouse. You hear scattered words from Isaac's conversation: "Betrothal", "land deeds", "finances", "Lord Althelstane", "court appeals", "hand in..." and other such things. You see Isaac's expression grow more and more brittle.
[...]
Isaac finally exits the booth. He trembles, and then lashes out with a cry of rage, shattering a nearby glass panel into tiny fragments with a clenched fist.
Inquire?
Isaac has been dressing in darker colors these past few days, in mourning for the deaths of his comrades, Dozer and Chips.
As you walk by the cafeteria, you notice him sitting at a table, writing something in elegant cursive on some sheets of paper with a fountain pen.
Take a closer look?
[2]
He's managed to get his sword back from Richard, and is in the garden area, practicing forms, over and over again. They're mainly brutal chops and log-splitting slashes, moves designed to win battles in the first few seconds. His body is quivering with exhaustion.
[3]
For some reason, he's dressed in brighter clothes this particular day, with only a black arm-band around his sleeve. You notice him heading to the computer room and reserving a comm booth for himself.
If you decide to get sneaky, you can peak in and see him talking to an old, matriarchal figure, dressed in a high-necked blouse. You hear scattered words from Isaac's conversation: "Betrothal", "land deeds", "finances", "Lord Althelstane", "court appeals", "hand in..." and other such things. You see Isaac's expression grow more and more brittle.
[...]
Isaac finally exits the booth. He trembles, and then lashes out with a cry of rage, shattering a nearby glass panel into tiny fragments with a clenched fist.
Inquire?
3
And then his eyes go wide - and back to normal - when he realised that the idiot just went and smashed his fist into some glass.]
Oi, we've had enough people losing their arms around here! Don't you start too!
Re: 3
"Do not test me, Richard Chevalier." He growls.
...at least he's not calling you a 'Gaul'.
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Besides, I doubt you're in much the mood to fight. Whatever happened in there... its hit like an arrow to your heart.
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"Do you know what it is like to own land for a long time?" He asks.
Re: 3
Trouble at the Sinclair holdings then?
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"Imagine that the home you grew up in...the forest and fields you played in, the shire you learned lessons in...was your father's, and your father's fathers, and so on throughout the centuries. Your ancestors are buried beneath it, and no matter how strange the world becomes, you have an anchor to your existence...land. Land that will forever be your own."
He clenches his fists. "And now those damn Athelstines are using their government lackies to seize our land!"
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[Somewhat more vast than most people's has any right to be... But a home nonetheless.]
I take it they've also found sort of legal technique that you can't deal with because you're on the frontlines?
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"A Royal Writ from the Ministry of Agriculture, granting them eminent domain over the Sinclair family estate. W'ere expected to evict ourselves, while they move in and demolish our holdings...holdings that have stood for hundreds of years, through invasion, calamity, Second Impact!"
He grimaces.
"But that's not the worst of it..."
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[Richard remembers 'betrothal' coming up...]
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But how in the hell did he even get such a writ to begin with? Doesn't there need to be a reason if its eminent domain?
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"I do not know, in fact! I neglected to ask my mother that. Do you think the Athelstane may have acquired that writ under false pretenses?"
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1
Not that Texotic can actually read your words, but not a lot of people know that.]
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"I have disturbed you, Milady. Apologies, I shall vacate the premises."
He moves to go...a little too hastily, if you ask me.
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Isaac hesitates, looking down at the sheafs of paper in his hands. He averts his eyes from you.
"I am writing my own letters of condolence to the relatives of my slain comrades."
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[Texotic does not look at Isaac's hesitation. Instead, she tries to pierce the paper with her gaze, as if hoping to discern sense from the letters by sheer effort alone.]
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He bows his head. "It is my dearest hope that by doing so, they may be able to temper their sorrow with pride for their kin."
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Yes.
That's really important.
I hope you will tell them everything you know.
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"Aye. Of course I shall."
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3)
[Hey Appletree? Guess who just left the infirmary to go checking up on her teammates.]
... Bad news from home.
[It wasn't a question, rather a statement waiting for confirmation. Cora's looking plenty concerned though.]
Re: 3)
He meets Cora's eyes, his own filled with a mix of anger and desperation.
"The damn Athelstane family...they're trying to seize the Sinclair homestead for themselves!"
Whoo boy. The Athelstanes are one of those wealthy Brittanian families...that are also in close cahoots with the Crown.
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I'm guessing this is something they've been at for a while...?
Or did they just have a flight of fancy?
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"But now, according to Mother...they've acquired a Royal Writ, claiming eminent domain over our entire estate. We're expected to evict ourselves like common thugs, from a land we've held for centuries!"
Bones are creaking in his fist.
"Lord Ferris vi Athelstane, of course, made a private offer to us: he would let us keep our lands...if he and my sister agreed to be join in the bonds of–"
He can't finish the sentence.
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[Cora pressed her fist to her forehead.]
Don't. You don't have to finish that sentence. I know where its going...
And I know just what exactly will happen. Even if he marries your sister, if anything happens to you or your mother he'll still be able to get it writ or no.
... Damnit, if it was anything else I might've been able to talk to the Commander. He would have been able to put up a paper trail so long that it'd be decades before any progress would've been made.
What does the rest of your family think?
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"Little Marilyn has sworn that if she gets betrothed to that piece of human excrescence, she'll stab him in the brain with a fire-poker on her wedding night."
He folds his arms. "Mother is remaining calm, stonewalling Athelstane and his inspectors with razor sharp witticisms while she calls on her own contacts and resources. But–"
His arms fall limply to the side.
"The Sinclair family's influence," He admits suddenly, "Is...not what it was."
My god, he's admitting it!
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Isaac. I can't promise anything. But I'll do my best.
[She puts her hand onto the nobleman's shoulder - looking determined as ever.]
.... Besides... the next time you go back home... Athelstane wouldn't even set foot or look at your family the wrong way if he knows what's good for him.
With everything we're up against now...
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"You speak more truly than you know...Milady."