"Ah man. Truly nothing is more monstrous than what lies in the hearts of some." Lord Gazter holds Eglantine’s hands in his. "Although beauty can be found within many hearts as well." Lord Gazter looks into Eglantine’s eyes.
edited by Lord Gazter on 8/17/2016
“Perhaps.” Another long sigh. “I am chilled to the bone, here, and my dread lies too heavily on me.” Eglantine rises, kisses Gazter’s cheek, and steps away, smiling sadly. “Think kindly of me, if they should strike me down before I see your face again.”
With that, they slip away along the paths, to go find shelter and warmth, and the kind of almost-solitude that comes from being just another face in the crowd.
With the right group of people scouting your every move, you can be anywhere you want without a soul laying eyes on you. Eli is in possession of one such group. "The Disappearers".
And yet, they are not here to make anyone disappear. They’re hear to check on some agents, grease some palms and kiss a select few asse(t)s.
"Caretaker, Barker Fox is just down by the shoreside, chatting with the guy that shot you." The brutish young woman speaks plainly and seems to be outwardly hoping for a chance to get some blood in on the side.
"If anything is to be said about Them, it’s that they are certainly devoted to their duty." Eli sighs. "Signal Them to meet me by the quayside, away from Gazter. I think it’s time to cash out this little venture."
"Hm. On it."
There’s only the one public house on Mutton Island, and it’s there that Eglantine retreats to. In the Cock and Magpie, they can take a moment to themself, breathe easily, and think. And buy Rubbery Lumps, of course. Those are a definite aid to improving one’s mood.
Eli enters in a flash, finally wearing a vest that isn’t grey. His scouts tail Gazter and ensure that he will not sneak up on them.
“Good lord, Eglantine.” Eli says, taking a seat at the bar next to them. “You look more exhausted than I’ve seen you after an operation. Been working hard?”
They give Eli a smile that’s a tired imitation of its usual flirtatious brightness. “And here I thought I looked pretty in my flowers and fine clothes. You do say the nicest things, don’t you?”
“Even in flowers and lace, it takes a friend to see the cracks that lay in the armor beneath.” Eli chuckles, waving to one of Passionario’s contacts enjoying a bowl of soup. She doesn’t wave back.
“I see you’ve been keeping the company of the mark I set you on. Bet you’re starting to hate me for it right about now, eh? What have you discovered?”
“Personally? No danger to you in a fight. As a player? Unpredictable.” They shrug. “But he does like me.” Eglantine forces one of their cockier smiles. “Most people do.”
They dig into their food, to have a brief respite from speech.
“Well, on other fronts he has proven to be virtually worthless. He does not have any economic or military power to offer and his one connection in the Embassy is already being brought into question. I’d advise that you get rid of him at the earliest opportunity. He does more good working against Flowerdene than for it.”
Down at the beach, lit by bonfires, surrounded by music and dancers the Curious Captain meets and hears a tall, lanky figure, a Drownie Diplomat. “… so you see. His Complexity will arrive soon, you are invited to join the feast – after business.”
Absimiliard nods. “I’ll be happy to be done with the business. Tell the Fathomking the last remains of the Principles of Coral shall be his if he meets my price in Drowning Pearls. Any other words will be but pleasantries, which I will share happily, but I do not wish to waste His time if He is busy. Come to me again when He is arrived, until then I shall join the dance – perhaps even sing.”
The Diplomat departs, walking into the surf, sinking into the waves, descending into the depths off Mutton Island.
Ashore the Captain joins the dance. They dance nothing like a respectable Londoner, their moves are more reminiscent of the Khaganians – suited to the veils and silks of the Khanate. However their timing is excellent, and their moves show a catlike grace that suits the festive music.
“Advice noted.” Eglantine’s smile is hard-edged. “As to the Embassy…” They slowly pull up a sleeve. On one forearm, a reddened mark lingers, burned and bruised and cut in such a way that only the grip of a devil’s hand could have done it. The grip of a devil’s hand, moreover, when he’s not feeling terribly restrained. “There’s one more there who will listen to you. I have his surety on that.” Terrible harsh pride in their eyes, though their voice is still perfectly quiet and even.
Sometimes a leader of men needs to know the price for his successes.
“You’ve been invaluable to our cause, my friend.” Eli puts a hand on Eglantine’s shoulder, a more restrained hug. “I couldn’t ask for a better friend, nor a better earner. And to think, we met at a murder trial.”
Eglantine laughs, pulling their sleeve back down and rearranging their flowers. “Some things can’t be predicted, I suppose.”
They stand. “Some things can, though: I predict that I’m going to go out there and have fun. I need it.” They flash a final smile Eli’s way, before heading out into the firelight to return to the dancing. Maybe they can forget what’s coming, for a while. They hope so.
By the next hour, anyone other than the most skilled of detectives couldn’t possibly prove Eli was ever on Mutton Island. Poof. He’s gone
A woman, dressed entirely wrong for fishing. Her elegant skirts are now torn and soaked in briny zee water.
She sits on the edge of the beach, listening to the drownies sing. Sometimes she adds her voice to theirs - a haunting soprano. They seem to be old friends.
She occasionally looks up the beach at the people dancing. Probably there are people she knows there. She should join the merriment.
But her heart has been heavy lately.
The sad songs are so lovely. Soothing, in their own way. Beautiful.
Eli announces his presence only by the trio of scouts that arrive before him, he trudges towards Appolonia and takes a seat on a nearby rock.
“M’lady, you wished to speak with me at Flowerdene, correct?”
Appolonia is surprised to see Eli, and his scouts.
"Oh! I did not realize you were here."
"How are you? It’s good to see you again." She smiles genuinely.
"I stopped by Flowerdene to thank you again for your help, and let you know. Well… there has not been much in the way of good news, but I think the matter is at an end. The man I had mentioned to you … my suitor … he has gone back to the Surface I think. After causing a great deal of harm here." She sighs. "But it is over."
"And life goes on."
"I hope all is well with your sweetheart."
"I thought I would see if you could use more donations or help with the good work you’ve been doing in your neighborhood. The least I could do after your help! Honestly, I could use the distraction."
"Did you come out to hear the drownies sing? It is quite beautiful."
Eli eyes one of the drownies with concern, but it appears not to recognize the man who put her there.
“My deepest condolences to you, Appolonia. If there is any thing that I can do personally to help repair the damage, you must let me know. As for help, I might have just the opportunity, but not quite yet. Watch the skies for my ravens, you’ll be hearing from us soon.”
She nods.
"Anytime. I’ll watch for a raven."
"I don’t know there is anything else to do for me. As I said, the danger is past. My friends are keeping me distracted and helping lift my spirits. More distractions are most welcome."
"I wish… I wish he had left me a note. Something. Anything. To read when he was gone. That would have told me what to do. How to … go forward. When someone holds your heart… Ah, it is foolish. I must simply guard it better. But it is hard to not have a … farewell."
"Nothing you can do for it. Or me either! I am sorry to be melancholy. Time heals anything. Eventually."
"Say ‘hello’ to Ezekiel from me."
"I promise - next time we meet - I will be calm and sensible and … not caught up in my own foolish melodrama."
“The only war with justification is the one fought on the frontiers of ones own heart.” Eli stands and his scours immediately fan out. “Fare thee well, I’ve a ferry to catch. Stay safe, Lady Appolonia.”