|
|
Post by Benedict Dieudonné on Apr 22, 2009 19:59:46 GMT -6
 He was getting tired. The daily drawl of paperwork and politics was beginning to catch up to the middle-aged husband and father of four. Dealing with the day-in and day-out threat of persecution; trying to keep his family, his neighbors, and his friends safe was a difficult task.
But despite it all… he did appreciate the trust his fellow townsfolk placed in him.
With Claudette closing in, Benedict knew there was precious little time for complaints. He needed the council to convene and decide exactly what to do about the encroaching inquisition. He needed to gather the pack – as large as it was becoming – and reinforce the laws he had been shoving down their throats for years now. He needed to make sure that everyone understood the dangers of His Majesty’s secular organization.
But… he sighed.
For now, he simply needed rest. Closing his records book, the bone-weary man leaned back in his chair and stretched. It felt so good to relieve his protesting muscles… So good, in fact, that he thought about stopping by the tavern on his way home. His wife wouldn’t much appreciate the scent of alcohol in their home… but Benedict was less inclined at this moment to give a damn.
Taking his coat from the rack, the older Garou gently closed the door to his office behind him. He pulled a key from his pocket and swiftly locked it before proceeding down the hall. Focusing his senses, Benedict kept a sharp alertness as he finally exited City Hall.
Perhaps I can convince Evelyn to join me at the Full Moon, he thought with delight. Though the man would never consider adultery, he couldn’t deny how fond of his Captain he was. Her diligence at her job was reassuring and he knew that, with the stern soldier in charge, his beloved town was in good hands.
”Ah, Benedict… you old fool. Perhaps you should have remained in fair Westeshire… safe behind the English Channel from this wicked world...” He sighed, again thinking about his old home in England. Life had seemed so simple then…
”Oh well. It’s all history now, as they say.” He had a tendency to talk to himself when he was stressed, but the insanity of it never truly struck him. Smiling instead as a breeze ruffled past him, he was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to transform. The full moon wasn’t for another couple of nights… but maybe he could spare just one thrill ride…
No, you old dolt. You can’t afford that now. Find Evelyn. Matters must be attended.
|
|
|
|
Post by Évelyn Faustine on Apr 23, 2009 6:56:00 GMT -6
 The day had finally decided to end itself and for that Evelyn was immensely grateful. She had worn her official uniform – complete with attached mail and weaponry – and the weather had been less-than-pleasant for such an attire. But it didn’t matter now… soon, she would find herself at home relaxing in a warm bed. Oh… what I would give to have a warm supper waiting for me as well… she thought with dismay.
But… it didn’t matter. With a hand on her scabbarded longsword, the agile beauty continued her darkening rounds. She always saved the last few hours of her shift for patrol time – that is, her designated period to scour the town for any sort of miscreant or sign of trouble. Sometimes she would even go so far as to hide her belongings in the forest, shift, and check for any traces of outside dangers – mainly Claudette.
The word from the big cities was that he was making his way North, directly toward her adored Ville de Kadence. It would probably take another month or so at the rate he and his men were going, but she wanted to be ready for them.
Sighing as she ran her hand through her hair, the soldierly figure paused for just one moment. She thought for a moment she had heard some kind of commotion… but as she listened intently now, she realized there was nothing. Your mind is playing tricks on you, Fool. She swore beneath her breath, keeping ears pricked for any trace of misdeed.
It wasn’t until a few moments later that she discovered another sound. A voice. A man’s voice. Scowling, the woman rounded a corner with the intent of lashing out against this person (she hated men, you see) but to her surprise, it was her Mayor’s face that greeted the faye.
”Bonjour, Dieudonné.” She’d never had a way with formalities but Benedict had learned long ago not to expect them. The barest hint of a smile crept across her features, not because she was particularly happy to see this man, but because she noticed his ruffled and exhausted appearance. For some reason, that amused her. His stress was confounding… such a pitiful little man!
|
|
|
|
Post by Benedict Dieudonné on Apr 25, 2009 19:02:16 GMT -6
Benedict watched the emotions flicker across his Captain’s face like dancing candlelight. He thought he recognized a smile in that muddled, hard gaze… but dismissed it. Captain Faustine was a very strict individual that rarely smiled. She certainly wouldn’t spare him one of her unique graces. Bowing his head lightly in response to her greeting, he realized that he was indeed very pleased to have her stumble across him.
”Bonjour, mademoiselle. I’m glad you’re here… there are a few matters of state I’d like to discuss with you.” Always business with Benedict. He hated having to jump to the point so quickly, but he felt the ‘matters’ were urgent. There was no time to dawdle. Not when his families’, his friends’, and his neighbors’ lives hung in the balance.
Beginning to walk at a slow pace, it was evident the mayor expected to be followed. He debated how best to breach his topic and finally decided to just jump right in. ”I’m afraid of what will happen to Ville de Kadence, Captain Faustine… Evelyn…” His golden oculars pleaded with the sky for a moment… begging God for an answer. He dreaded facing Claudette and his men. He was terrified of the thought of watching his children burn.
”Evelyn, we need to organize a resistance – should it come to that. We need an escape route and an offensive tactic. We need to plan… to be ready.” He fought to control his rising horror. Visions of death and ruin plagued the man’s thoughts. He could drive himself completely mad thinking about what might happen to his family. Not all of them could run as wolves, after all. Not all of them would be able to escape if it came to such terrible consequence.
He stole a sideways glance at his armored captain, worried about her thoughts toward him. Benedict couldn’t imagine she despised him… but she certainly had some odd habits. And her hatred of men was no secret. Though I do find it funny she promoted Edmond so quickly… He thought, for a moment distracted.
”What do you think, Madam? Is fighting our best option… or fleeing?” He dreaded her answer, but knew that she – above all people – would know what to do. She always did. When it came to warfare, this was the perfect woman for the job. Her talents were extraordinary and Benedict found himself putting an undue amount of responsibility and hope on her shoulders.
|
|
|
|
Post by Évelyn Faustine on Apr 26, 2009 12:35:26 GMT -6
Évelyn scowled visibly when Benedict took the lead. His subtle authority often enraged the warrior because he didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it. Not a dominant man by any means, his unconscious air of confidence and command seemed to reward him with the respect of everyone he encountered. Everyone including Évelyn – though she would never let him know it.
Falling into step beside her village’s mayor, the uniformed female listened to his pleas and growing worry. She thought she detected a hint of hysteria in the undertones of his voice, but couldn’t be sure and wrote the thought off. His words of war and revolution took her by surprise. This old man was one of peace… she couldn’t possibly imagine him trying to hold a sword – or even trying to use his fangs, for that matter. Benedict was a submissive dolt that sometimes followed the lead of his wife! His idea of ‘fighting’ was certainly much different from her own.
”Benedict. If our circumstance called for a battle, you should understand that not everyone would survive.” She tried to be sympathetic but her voice quavered with hatred and anger. She was cruel and she knew it and sympathy was not one of her habits. ”We would be slaughtered like pigs, Benedict. They’d rage against us for heresy and no one would survive because we chose to oppose them.” She pictured the carnage, the memory of blood in her eyes and nostrils bringing a sadistic gleam into her eyes. She relished the thought of battle… but knew her neighbors were unequipped and untrained. There was no way they could stand against Claudette and hope to win.
”Do you want to see your family killed? Stabbed or burned at the stake? Would you really expect your daughters or your wife to fight?” Ruthlessly, she continued. Gauging his expression, Évelyn knew she would hit a nerve when she breached the subject of his family. This was a matter he had asked about, however, and she wanted to make sure he understood the consequences of combat.
”Our statement would be lost in history and our lives would be given in vain if we chose to stand against the French Catholic Church… but we could easily escape if we – like you said – formulate a plan. By far, our best option would be to split up. To reorganize in another town, another land. Our agreement to meet in another place is really all that we can do.” It pained her to say it, but she knew the truth of what they faced. Not everyone would live if Claudette judged them unfit. But some would, if not most. And the lives of those lost would not have been in vain.
|
|
|
|
Post by Benedict Dieudonné on Apr 29, 2009 19:58:37 GMT -6
Her words were not at all what Benedict wanted to hear. They stung him as painfully as embers leaping upon his skin. Thoughts drifted to his family, to his children. Those of the Garou lineage might be able to escape Claudette’s vast reach… but the others? His darling daughter and young son? His wife? They’d be burned for their affiliation to him. For being half of him… And Benedict couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t care if he died, but he would not face the ill-ending of his children or wife. ”I don’t like being so helpless, Evelyn.” She a harsh soul, one not privy to restraint… but he had always appreciated her honesty with him – especially in these sorts of matters. He wanted her opinion – the truth – but he also felt the need to stress his concern. He would not have his family killed because, simply, they were different. He would not subject them to such pain! He wouldn’t! Even if it meant hiring a thousand mercenaries to protect their cause. Even if it meant creating his own army. Even if it meant… He was being ridiculous now. There was no way he could amass his own army. No way to pay for that many mercenaries – much less find ones willing to fight for heretics and ‘traitors of God’. ”Evelyn… when Claudette comes, what are the chances of our discovery?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this answer, but knew that Evelyn – with all of her experience at the French capitol – would know precisely their possibility of un-discovery. ”Do we have reason to hope? Is there any way to escape this unscathed?” He could feel his voice rising, his fervor pronounced and growing steadily with every new word that tumbled out of his mouth. He was afraid for the lives of everyone. He was their elected patron. The man that was supposed to keep them safe. The man that was supposed to keep Claudette at bay. He needed some sort of reassurance. He needed some kind of plan. He needed… hope. Hope in anything.
|
|
|
|
Post by Évelyn Faustine on May 6, 2009 15:53:19 GMT -6
(( shall reply this also ASAP ;P ))
|
|
|
|
Post by Évelyn Faustine on May 7, 2009 9:37:06 GMT -6
She could sense his rising concern and it frustrated her more than anything else. She had matters of her own to attend; she didn’t need to baby-sit politicians all night long. Running a hand through pale locks, the captain sighed loudly. Her eyes flashed in the darkness, threatening him with an unspoken message. She wanted him to be quiet. This kind of panic would not help anyone. Could not help anything. While she agreed with his feeling of helplessness, she couldn’t condone his losing all sense of reason. Of face. These were trying times that required a strong leader.
Glaring at the older Garou now, she let her expressions display her true emotions. The disgust in his cowardice was evident and she wanted him to recognize it. She wanted him to grow a backbone. It was true he had more to lose than she did – a family, to be exact – but he was the one that had competed for this position. He was the town’s authority. He was the town’s strength or their weakness.
”You need to get a grip, Benedict.” She had been patient with him for a long time now, but this escalation needed to stop. If he couldn’t suck it up he had no right defending them. ”Shed your tears now and prepare for the worst. No one can predict our futures but you, of all people, should understand our chances for success.” Her voice was monotone, never faltering in its lack of emotion. Her face was a shield to go with it, as expressionless as when she’d been training in the royal French military. There was no reason to fear or hope, in her opinion. What happened would happen and nothing could change their fates.
All she wanted in life was a glorified death.
”You are the face of this city, Monsieur. It is from you the people draw strength… or weakness. From you they see reason to hope or abandon. You are this town’s inspiration and it is your duty to display the utmost courage in the face of danger, Benedict.” Évelyn felt harsh but she wouldn’t – she couldn’t – lessen the blow. She hated weakness with a burning passion and seeing this side of her commander made her despise him. She almost wanted to shake the man. To force him to adapt her mentality.
|
|
