Flashback Cousin, Who Art Thou?

For Madeira

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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.

Cousin, Who Art Thou?

Postby Gomer Caitiff on January 23rd, 2018, 5:54 am

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Though he poked his head into the room after Madeira opened the eastern door, it too was disappointing enough that he let her explore it alone. It was large and mostly empty, nothing like what he'd been expecting. Though, the more he thought about what he'd been expecting, the less that came to mind. He knew he felt let down, but he couldn't place exactly why. Already he had begun to re-weave the strings back through his physical hand, finding that the basement was as benign, if not more so, than the rest of the house. The silvery fibers wrapped their way through him as he withdrew from the second room, deciding how best to spend his own investigative time.

Choosing to look around the workshop some more, Gomer stared down at the open books and partially rolled scrolls, some of them in languages he couldn't read while others employed technical writings that didn't make much sense at a glance. Picking up a particularly heavy tome that had several different diagrams of what looked like parts of the body, he stared down at the images, tracing the intricate lines with his gaze.

When Madeira rushed back into the room, he glanced up from his book, quizzically raising a brow as he watched her hastily snatched one of the many candles scattered across the tables and dashed back into the large, empty room that, as far as he was concerned, housed only dissatisfaction. He heard her voice and, drawn by the excitement, once more put his head through the doorway.

His cousin knelt upon the ground, her starchy dress giving her the appearance of a peculiar moth-like doll that had fall from a shelf into an awkward stoop. He felt his lips turn in an amused grin, and though he had missed her initial discovery, with the light from her candle better illuminating the area, he too noted where it was the ghost nails seemed meant to be placed.

Even with the revelation, Gomer didn't find it all that exciting. There were no ghosts, no magical devices, just an engraved circle upon the ground of the type one might find anywhere a Craven was involved - though the size was certainly impressive. Returning to his book, Gomer shrugged, thumbing through the pages until he landed on another set of images, these depicting what looked like an artist's technical representation of the astral body - or as the illustrator had labelled the pictures "the soul".

Perusing the notations along the bottom of the pages, he gathered the book was a compilation on the study and examination of the physical body with the current chapter dedicated to theories as to the nature of the soul. It was, most certainly, not a magical grimoire, but out of everything they'd discovered thus far, it was the most interesting. In the upstairs library, he'd never seen quite such detailed work, and the ink was dark and clearly legible, meaning it was certainly not an ancient work.

Flipping his way through several more pages, Gomer didn't look up when his cousin returned a second time, preparing his reply but before either of them could finish, he felt a cold shiver of nervous fear slide down his spine as they both froze simultaneously in the wake of the dreaded noise. Instinctively, he shut the book, his usually calm and easygoing expression too shocked to hide his wide eyes and uncertain fear. Before he could think to put the book back, he found he was stumbling after his far faster thinking cousin, barely able to mutter a hurried, "W-wait, I-"

Then, there was just the two of them, knees knocked together and flame burning dimly in the dark between them as she pulled the closet door shut not two ticks before the workshop's door opened. Close enough he could feel her breath on his chest but far enough he needed to lean forward to whisper, he hissed out a frustrated, "Will you stop panting? They'll think they've locked a dog up in here for Ionu's sake."

Gently but firmly pushing on her shoulder, Gomer knelt down by the door, too concerned with what was outside of the room to really notice what was around them. Quietly and delicately he pressed his face against the door, taking care not to lean, and looked through the key hole. He felt the stiff fabric of Madeira's dress press against his shoulder as she listened above, but he was focused on trying to spot whom it was who had decided to interrupt their little cover foray.

The book rested heavy on his knee, one hand keeping it steady while the other helped him maintain his balance. At first, he was unable to discern who had entered the room, his point of view restricted as it was, and he quietly shifted into a more comfortable position as Madeira took a few careful steps back. Finally, a head of dark, neatly waxed hair came into view. It sat atop a sallow, pale face of a man with dark, tired eyes that seemed like old coals, empty of flame and heat. His chin sported a tuft of dark hair just below his lower lip, and he was clad in a pressed silken shirt and a pair of smart tweed trousers.

Recognizing him as Reginald Craven (in the moment, the man's proper surname escaped Gomer's anxious, sprinting thoughts), Gomer found his lips turning down into an annoyed frown. Reginald was not the worst Craven they could have asked for, but he didn't know enough about the greasy, middle aged man to find his presence a comfort. He had heard that Reginald wasn't particularly popular among the family, but his soulmist was surprisingly high in quality and was the main reason he had been accepted.

Whether he would rat them out or not if he found them... Gomer supposed Madeira's guess would be as good as his. Finding all the least helpful memories rising to the surface, he remembered the last time his mother had found him with cuts all over his hands and had publicly spanked him in front of his father and brother. The humiliation then had been unpleasant - he doubted it would compare to what the sisters would do to him if they found him breaking so firm a rule as going into the basement without permission.

Moving about the room with purpose, Reginald seemed not to notice the missing book nor the candle, though he had begun to collect the other books, organising them in piles. Retreating from his peephole, Gomer let out a silent, frustrated sigh through his nose. It seemed their cousin had come down to clean - and Ionu only know how long that would take.

Turning to relay the information to his cousin, he caught the expression of fear mingled with astonishment on her face a tick before she tripped over him, her back slamming against the wooden door with a stomach dropping thud, the latch rattling from the force. Immediately, there was a muffled, "Who's that?" from behind the door followed by hasty footsteps.

Without saying a word, Gomer grabbed Madeira by her shoulders, finding her even smaller and lighter than she appeared, and quickly pulled her off of the door, snatching the candle from her hand and flinging her behind him. Knocking the candle against the wall to put out the light, and using the noise to cover his own frantic hiss of, "Against the back wall, stay low!" before the door was opened, and Reginald stood frowning down at an instantly apologetic looking Gomer.

"...Caitiff." His voice, high and airy, hardly seemed surprised, and his eyes didn't wander except to roll in a weary expression before he took the boy the shoulder and, with a surprisingly tight grip, pulled him from the closet, letting the door close behind him. "How did you get past the door, Gomer?" Again, there was little interest in his voice - it sounded far more like the man was going through the motions.

Though it was a good sign, Gomer found it, just like everything else in the basement had been, a little disappointing. "...Marie didn't shut it all the way."

A heavy sigh dropped from the man's lips as he held out an expectant hand. "Mmm. I thought as much." Gomer put the book into his hand, watching apprehensively as his cousin set it calmly on the table beside them before turning back towards him with a tired frown. "I'm certain you've heard this before, boy, but I find your behavior... disappointing. Estelle will not be pleased. This sort of thing reflects poorly on more than just your own reputation, you know." He crossed his arms, his tone sounding as though the lecture was as much a chore for him to say as it was for Gomer to listen to. "And I can only imagine how Godric must feel about... all of this." He made a vague gesture with an incline of his head.

"I-"

"No. I'm speaking right now." There was no anger in his voice, but the weariness seemed to increase slightly. "I respect Estelle. I like your brother. I appreciate everything Rune does for the family." He listed them off in a sort of monotone, as if it were expected of him, not so much that they were his actual feelings. "So I will do them the favor of offering you a choice. You can spend the next season assisting me - silently -, and I will not relay what I have discovered down here today."

Gomer didn't wait for the other option. Instead he nodded earnestly, further showing his understanding by keeping his lips pursed and refraining from saying anything.

"Good. Get out."
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Cousin, Who Art Thou?

Postby Madeira Dusk on January 28th, 2018, 4:53 am

Madeira was still riding that slow wave of shock when Gomer pushed her against the wall and gave his hushed command. The young blonde did as he said without question, her eyes vacant with a kind of mummified horror. The candle had been snuffed out against the wall, plunging them both into darkness. The vessels vanished into that inky black, but the low chorus of voices were only getting louder. They seemed to sense the two warm bodies in the room. More and more whispers were joining in. Some blathered incoherently, clearly gone mad in their confinement. Others were shockingly lucid. Sweet persuasions and gory threats were pushing in from all sides, and Madeira fought the urge to cover her ears and cower like a child.

A spear of light sliced through the closet, and Gomer was suddenly up and being dragged out by the shoulder.

There was a muffled conversation on the other side of the door. It took Madeira a long tick to peel herself off the floor press her ear to the rough wood. She breathed evenly through her nose, and pressed her palm over the opposite ear in the effort to block the whispers of the condemned spirits.

Reginald was giving her cousin a lazy scolding that fell from his lips with a heavy dose of shame. She couldn't see him, but she could imagine the look on his face; the way his heavy lidded eyes looked out docilely from under his dark brows, the way he never showed any teeth as he spoke. It dawned on her that she wasn't seeing this in person because Gomer had taken her place. She should have been out there wallowing in anxiety and disappointment, but her cousin had made sure she was not seen.

Gomer was given a curt dismissal, and the scuffing of one pair of shoes faded away up the stairs.

Madeira looked through the keyhole just in time to see the door leading upstairs swinging closed with a soft click. Reginald was standing in the middle of the lab, arms crossed, watching Gomer leave. Finally he shook his head and with a slow, plodding lack of urgency passed through one of the branching doors to the other rooms.

Knowing she had only a tick to make the decision, Madeira ground her teeth before opening the door to her hiding place. Reginald could burst through at any moment, but to stay another second in that closet was more than she could handle. So with thoughts of the evil place she was leaving to spurn her on, she ran to the exit as fast and quietly as she could. She slipped through the door to the stairs and tiptoed her way to the landing. She cracked the second door open and checked for passerby before edging out and closing it soundlessly behind her.

And just like that, she was out. She put a hand over her thundering heart as if to muffle the sound.

What she saw in the basement was disappointing, but it also made the house above ground seem insubstantial and paper thin now. The hundred-year-old structure with it's lordly architecture and sinister air was nothing but an elaborate set dressing. The heart of it all was underground.

She wanted to run upstairs to her new room, retrieve her integrity from where she left it, and leave this all far behind. But before she could she had to see Gomer.

She started down the hall at a brisk pace, smoothing down her hair that had frayed in the excitement. The hem of her skirt was dark with dust, and the perfect half-moons of her fingernails had a dark line of dirt. She pulled at the tight bodice of her dress to coax cooler air under her collar.

It didn't take her long to find her cousin. She ran the last few steps to his side and fell into step beside him. She was quiet for a few ticks before she spoke.

"Thank you, Gomer. For... everything."

She cleared her throat, somehow unable to summon the proper words. Everything felt hollow and token on her tongue. Not only had he gone against the rules of the house to show her what she wanted to see, he saved her when her curiosity backfired at the cost of his own skin. She choked on the enormity of it and fell into a silence loaded with everything she didn't say.
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Cousin, Who Art Thou?

Postby Gomer Caitiff on January 28th, 2018, 5:45 am

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Poutine fam plaid hoodie offal twee.

Uncharacteristically obedient, Gomer turned to leave, repressing the urge to glance back at the door behind which Madeira waited, presumably and hopefully for the chance to escape unnoticed. Pushing the door open, he stepped out, letting it close behind him with final click. Things could have been much worse, and he had anticipated the possibility of such an unfortunate event, going even as far to, more or less, state he would take blame if possible. Preparation, however, did little to calm the worried flutter in his chest. His own shortcomings were one thing; that he might be responsible for tarnishing his cousin's did not set well with him. If anything, it was partially due to how he knew his mother and brother would react. The very thought of their disappointed faces was enough fill him with an uncertain anxiety.

Though he lingered for a moment or two outside of the door, he was not so naive as to think waiting for Madeira would help her in any way. Drawing a steadying breath and trying not to think about what he'd just agreed to in order to net the chance that his cousin might not be discovered, he started up the stairs, stumbling quietly in the dark until he found his way to the ground floor's door.

Fumbling with the latch, he cautiously peeked through the crack in doorway to make sure there was no one about. Once certain, he stepped out, hurriedly closing the door behind him and not bothering to try to latch it. Instead, he ran a nervous hand through his hair and paced back and forth. For all he knew, it could be bells before Reginald gave her the chance she needed, and if even she took it, there was no guarantee she wouldn't be caught.

Guilt was not quite the proper term for what he felt. After all, she had been the one to ask him, and it had been she who'd given away their hiding place. Whatever her own transgressions, he couldn't ignore the fact that she had been, however briefly, placed in his charge. Much to his chagrin - but not his surprise -, he found that the whole exchange had been just another failing to add to his long list.

With a frustrated sigh, he started down the hall, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He knew that Madeira would be called upon sometime within the near future, so he opted to head towards her room and try to deter whoever was meant to deliver her summons. Though he was, as his elder cousin had so languidly stated, a disappointment to the Craven family, not all of the servants felt the same way - especially those around his own years. They had had some luck in being discovered by one of the more phlegmatic family members; all he could hope for was that it might continue.

Rounding the corner, Gomer's focus elsewhere, he bashed heads with a startled young woman. In the confusion, she dropped her little silver tray, the paper perched precariously atop it sliding across the floor as she put a hand to her forehead with a wincing and astonished, "Oh, Mister Gomer. Please watch where you're going."

Quickly scooping up the fugitive summons, he gathered up the tray as well, properly situating them before offering them to the maid with a contrite smile, "My apologies, I've been... distracted as of late." It wasn't a lie, certainly. Eyeing the milky, folded parchment, a small spark of curiosity danced in his eyes as the maid received tray and letter with a slight blush. "This... doesn't happen to be a call for Miss Madeira?"

Blinking, confused, the maid nodded, her neatly kept brown hair bobbing. "It is just that, in fact. How'd you guess such a thing, Mister Gomer?"

"Ah, well," Silently grasping at straws, he put a bit more concern in his voice. "She was rather hungry after her trip through the city, and I brought her down here to get something to eat." Thinking on his feet, he continued, the maid listening with a emphatic mirror of his own expression. "And before I could stop her, she'd already eaten a couple of Harriet's 'scones'."

Harriet was not a well known figure. In fact, she wasn't a Craven at all, but one of the kitchen hands who had taken on the job in hopes that her own skill with soulmist might be recognized. For whatever absurd reason, she seemed to think that the more disgusting the ingredients in her soulmist, the more effective. She'd recently taken to baking it, in the hope she might achieve some new form of "super-soulmist". All her experiments were as much failures as they were unpalatable, and at the mention of the scones, the maid put a polite hand over her lips as she grimaced.

"Needless to say, I'm uncertain how long she'll be indisposed, but I'd be happy to pass on the summons personally." He extended a hand to take the letter, and though the maid hesitated for a moment, she seemed to agree with him, allowing him to pluck the contents of the tray without protest.

"That's a right warm welcome to the Manor she got." She tutted the words, her clear distress over Madeira's imagined discomfort almost touching, had Gomer not been so preoccupied on trying to sell his lie. "I'll have them prepare some stewed potatoes. That always helps with... these kinds of things."

"Very kind of you, I'm certain she'll be quite grateful."

With a last nod and a now settled look of concern on her face, the maid headed to the kitchen. As the door swung shut behind her, Gomer let out a relieved sigh as he pocketed the paper. Deciding it best to wait for Madeira in the main foyer, as she would need to pass through it to get back to her room, he started off once more.

Before he made it too far, there came the hurried, familiarly light footsteps of a young woman. Though she fell into step beside him without saying anything right away, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Her quiet thanks were met with a cocky grin that he turned for her benefit. Any fool could see the younger girl was distraught, and whatever thoughts danced around her head, he imagined they were not the sort of warm and fuzzy feelings of having successfully gotten away with a tricky misdirection.

In a pleasant, playfully indifferent tone, he raised his brow. "And what are you on about? I don't think I've ever received such solemn gratefulness for a simple tour before." Eyes glinting with a characteristically impish spark, he slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the summons, handing it to his cousin with a ceremonial flourish of his wrist. "You are expected, Miss Madeira Craven. And to help with the indigestion you so unfortunately fell prey to after you ravenously consumed some particularly putrid scones in the kitchen, the maids are now preparing you a mellow stew of potatoes and..." He vaguely waved at the air. "Other things you put in soups."

Giving her the once over, he added with a mock frown, "And I think it's best you maybe wash up once more. You still seem a bit out of sorts." He more whispered the last sentence, his lips turned in a cheeky grin. It wasn't the first time he'd been shouldered with punishments, and she seemed far more learned for the lesson that he, even without the repercussions. His frustration, however, was forgotten in the face of her gratitude, however subdued it might might be. It felt pleasant to be genuinely thanked for something, even if half of it - perhaps more - had been his fault to begin with.
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Gomer Caitiff
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Cousin, Who Art Thou?

Postby Madeira Dusk on February 3rd, 2018, 4:16 am

Madeira accepted the brandished envelope meekly. She was already getting used to Gomer’s cheekiness and flamboyancy. That smile he had been flashing since the moment she stepped through the door was becoming so common as to be cheap. She recognized that a cocky grin was his neutral expression just as a frown was hers.

"Indigestion?" She raised her brow, but didn't complain. "But you’re right, of course. Thank you for the... tour." the corner of her lips quirked up, but she quickly fought the urge. She should not be proud! They disobeyed the rules and just about ruined everything! Yet at the same time she was so pleased to have seen these things that the adults forbade. If nothing else, she knew she had found a partner in crime, should she need it.

"I owe you a favour, Gomer. If you ever need something... Well, you know where I am. Thank you, again."

She held his hand and squeezed it once, as if sealing the promise. Then smoothing her hair as best she could, and beating the dark line of dust out of her skirt, she raced on ahead to get ready and answer the summons. And, of course, retrieve that integrity that Gomer was doing his best to corrupt.
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Madeira Dusk
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Cousin, Who Art Thou?

Postby Madeira Dusk on February 5th, 2018, 11:52 pm

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Madeira Craven

Skills
  • Socialization: 2xp
  • Observation: 4xp
  • Rhetoric: 2xp
  • Investigation: 4xp
  • Planning: 1xp
  • Persuasion: 1xp
  • Stealth: 2xp
  • Running: 2xp

Lores
  • Location: Craven basement
  • Persuasion: weedling answers
  • Lore of the theory of Shielding

Awards & Retribution


Notes
Notes here.
User avatar
Madeira Dusk
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1774
Words: 1599220
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 11
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (3)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

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