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 Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]

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ChristianaKat
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PostSubject: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 1:59 am

What a shame really, a pity is what it is. The dragons spared little in their attack, not even the most holy of relics. The sacred household used to hold mass away from the main chapel was destroyed, its wooden walls unable to stand about the might of the dragons. ”Oh yee faithful, those who withstood, those who endured, come and hear the words of He who is most holy,” she decreed confidently to the whimpering masses, lost amidst the devastation and their own self-pity. ”Let those who wish to hear the words of He, listen. Let those who need to hear the words of He, come. Let not the destruction brought down upon the earthly realm by the agents of ravaging flames discourage us from lowering our heads in respect of He!” Standing with the backdrop of unbearable grief behind her, the rubble of the sacred household, the large masses devoid of any joy or hope, Christiane-Gael performed the duties expected of the future mistress of her Chapel. Donning a white, light absorbing outfit, a heavy alteration of the traditional nun uniform, she spoke to them all in her demure, echoing voice.

This was not the optimal time to hold mass, two to three hours until dinnertime, but they must adapt as the situation demands. Yet, it gave her an opportunity to adorn herself with one of the few outfits she prefers as Christiane-Gael. White, everything was white save the violet trimming. It was all covered, every last part of her body from head to toe save her face. Stiletto boots, an airy flower patterned dress, skin tight blouse, gloves smooth to the touch, and a headdress gives her the image of that which is truly divine. An image she plans to take advantage of, especially when people are in such a need to find hope anywhere they can.

”Find somewhere comfortable to sit, we shall begin shortly.” Subtly moving towards her left, towards the shade covered area under the hold of a relatively still living tree. Everyone else, they had to make do with sitting on burnt grass, charred dirt, or they had to stand on their own two feet. Some had shade, some didn't. Thus is life, and it is not fair. Averting her eyes from the sights of others, she waited, and waited, and waited, until it was finally time, ”Let us commence.” For the next hour, with breaks as appropriate, she related stories of He, the one they worship so profusely. But even more, she committed tirades on the greatness of their patron saint, hiding behind euphemistic names and natural distrust of all.

By the end of it, she was tired, yet the worshipers felt at ease once more. ”I am glad you are all alright my brothers and sisters in faith. Now, if you will all excuse me...” Sighing once her back turned to them, she felt a wave of satisfaction crash into her. She was finally finished talking to them about stories she's heard and told again and again, numerous times! But it was worth it. Now, she could enter Hosenka, use her image to her advantage. ”Oh? Do you have a question about the sermon today?” She asked a stranger, not one of her followers, but likely a curious passerby. She was irked, to say the least, but this intrusion should be no more than a few minutes delay.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 2:41 am

It was a wonderful day to be out and about, the sun was shining with a gentle breeze that caressed and soothed the heat for anyone lucky enough to have it embrace them. It was a small blessing for Michael as he strolled through the broken down town, the smell of smoke still in the air while the once regal town was struck by disaster. He hadn’t been in town when the dragons had attacked, and even if he had he wouldn’t have done anything to stop them. What those creatures did here didn’t concern him in the least; he had no masters that he knew of in the city after all so therefor he had no cause for defeating them.

His scarlet eyes scanned the streets idly as he walked the streets, the gentle breeze blowing his black twin tail coat as he made his way down the stone road. He was dressed as he always did with a black butler coat over top of a grey vest along with a white collared shirt. A black tie wrapped snugly around his neck as it flowed down to disappear beneath the vest to prevent it from flapping around while he walked, each step silent despite him wearing black dress shoes that remarkably had no ashes or dirt on them. It was as if he had just cleaned them despite him having been walking around for several hours now.

Eventually he would find himself walking along the road before witnessing a large gathering of people near what appeared to be a severely damaged church. Out of pure interest he walked over to the edge of the crowd without the people even aware of his existence while he literally hovered over one of the man’s shoulder, his ruby gaze locked onto what he assumed to be a priestess as she gave a long winded speech. Religion was never something he ever thought about; in fact he would have left after the first fifteen minutes of attending the drawl even however the woman kept him locked in place as he quietly watched her.

He recognized her from somewhere, he had seen her before, he knew her, however for the life of him it was far more difficult to recall where he had met her before. Michael was not the type of person to ever forget a face no matter how briefly he saw it, however he recognized nearly everything about this woman. Her lips, her eyes, her cheeks and neck, as he studied her closer he knew that it wasn’t just a passing meeting that he had met this woman before, he must have met her several times. It was then that he began to lock onto the reason why he could never quite place his finger on where he had seen her face before; he had never seen all of it. It was one of the members of Tartaros that always hid her face, one of the members of his own guild that he quietly watched from the distance and only served once or twice. She likely had never bothered to pay much attention to a mere servant to have recognized him however he was raised differently.

It was his responsibility to be at her service and from the looks of things the church was in need of help. Even if he didn’t believe in her preaches it was his duty to assist her in any way, and by extension this church if she so demanded it. Slipping away from the rest of the crowd his long strides quickly caught up to her as he seemed to glide across the ground. Making his way until he was in front of her he gave her what appeared to be a sincere smile as he bowed deeply. One of his white gloved hands pressing against his stomach as the other one was around his back in a formal bow of respect. “Excuse me for my rudeness mademoiselle, however I couldn’t help but notice your church has…run into a series of bad luck and misfortune.” He said politely before raising up from the bow, both hands clasped behind his back as he stood straight up. His posture was perfect, back straight and shoulders squired like a well-disciplined servant or soldier. His scarlet gaze, a color that was inhuman looked patiently at her as he continued speaking. “If you command I shall assist you in anyway you desire in the recreation of the building and any other tasks you may have for me. I humbly await your and shall fulfill them to the best of my abilities.”


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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 3:22 am

”Oh? Pardon?” Question him calmly, somehow, her heart rate accelerated as the surge of adrenaline entered her bloodstream. Who is this wretch? She asked herself. No one but those in Tartaros, Nanine, and extremely trusted members of her congregation call her Mademoiselle. ”Mademoiselle?” She asked him, falsifying her sense of curiosity through her own experience, ”I am not a Mademoiselle yet, mister. Perhaps you are quite mistaken?” Smiling brightly as if she were answering the pleas of a forlorn child, Christiane-Gael formulated in her mind over and over again. Who could this man be? He is not a trusted member of her congregation, she would know. All those in the congregation who know of Enfant Perdu are known to her. ”It is true, this household used to hold mass has been desecrated, but we shall preserver as we always have. There is no need for you to get involved stranger,” though her voice remained restrained and cheerful as always, the agitation from being unable to figure out who would know her as Mademoiselle gnawed at the tips of her fingers. If this kept on, she would use her magic on him in broad daylight, in public without her mask. She would unveil herself to all of Tartaros.

That must not happen. Whoever this, this man is, she must find out. ”Pardon me, but I am feeling a bit woozy from all this exposure to the sunlight and the tarnished air. Could you please come with me so we can talk just a bit more?” Bowing in respect, she turned away from him with nothing but disrespectfully intentions. In all honesty, the sun had begun to burn through her skin, as did the air continually pollute the insides of her lungs; but, the true intentions are to reveal him, to eliminate him if necessary. ”Come now, shelter is not too far from here,” holding the regal appearance of a lady, she held her hands in front of her like the most modest of women, nodding at passerby men and women like the most precious of ladies. Those men and women she passed were given the signal to clear the shelter out for her, to get the congregation out of the area. The former they have already done, the latter they are going to do.

Pass the shrubbery, a small pond, and a extremely blessed bushes which escaped the dragon's flight of terror, she led him to a little shack just out of the way. Not large in any standard of measurement, but just large enough for Christiane-Gael. Leading him inside, she had him, ”Please, sit down,” while closing the door behind him. A square shape, bed in the corner, armoire next to it, female essentials across, and a table for herself plus two guests in the farthest side from the bed, along with a few candles here and there for nighttime use. There is no way out now, ”Who are you, you filthy cur?” She began harshly, unlike her innocent, motherly tone from before, ”Speak now! I do not have time for games, I have plans for this evening involving unsuspecting people. How do you know to call me Mademoiselle?” She crossed her arms, awaiting an answer, keeping her eyes always on him.

He is handsome, yes, meaning he will most likely fib his way out. Yet, his manner of dress, his speech infer a sort of sophistication inherent in the upper class. Therefore, he has learned that the truth is better left unsaid sometimes. ”Do not lie to me,” she warned him sternly, ”Tell me the truth, or I shall extract it from you. Forcefully.”

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 4:03 am

It was odd how she tried to deny a title that belonged to any lovely lady; it was something that caused his inhuman gaze to continue watching her patiently while he studied her. Mademoiselle was not an insulting term; it wasn’t something reserved for certain professions, so why would she attempt to deny it? Unless of course it was because she was scared, scared of what he guessed to be her life in the dark guild. It made sense, she always wore a mask and it wouldn’t be wise to be known as both a priestess and a dark guild mage. However out of respect for her he wouldn’t bring it up, it was his job to put his masters at ease and fulfill their wishes not to reveal their secrets recklessly. Nodding politely as she spoke to show that she had his undivided attention his hearing could detect the subtle hints of strain in her cheerful voice, this was the person he had suspected her of being. He was sure of it after he had seen her face and studied it and now the signs all added up to prove him right.

“If you may excuse me for speaking madam, however one should never by shy to accept help from another in a time of need. Doesn’t your church accept charity and good will whenever possible after all?” He replied smoothly in a respectful tone as he continued watching her. As she suggested they go for a walk he knew that it wasn’t for reasons connected to the church. She wore a mask for a reason at the dark guild and he was a potential threat to it in her eyes. He knew the danger, he knew the risks, and however he didn’t hesitate in the least as he fell into step behind her. His arm right arm linking around her left one to look as if he was escorting her, however by the pressure and way he linked it was clear it was for incase she fainted. “Excuse me madam, allow me to stay by your side. It would be a shame to soil such a lovely white outfit on the dirty streets should the sun get the best of you.” He said in a perfectly respectful tone while his gaze stayed looking ahead, keeping up the appearance of a true blue gentleman while in the presence of a mistress.

He followed her patiently, nodding at her as she spoke to show he was listening while his crimson gaze idly looked around as they walked. As they approached the shack, a building away from the common fold, away from help, away from where his cries for help could be heard, it was obvious that the reasons she could want to speak with here was no normal reason. However despite all of this he simply smiled politely at her and followed her into the trap, walking into the spider’s web without a second thought. It was insane most people would think to go willingly into what they knew could be their deaths, however this was his duty and his job. There was no use resisting his position in life just as there was no use in denying his mistress’s commands.

“As you wish.” He replied smoothly while stepping forward to sit at the foot of the bed. His ruby eyes looking patiently up at her while he placed his hands on his lap, one over top of the other while his posture remained in impeccable shape. He wasn’t slouching or leaning back on his hands, instead he kept the aura of confidence and regal servitude about him while awaiting his mistress’s true plans for him. He didn’t so much as blink when her personality took a sharp left turn, doubled back and twisted upside down. His face was still as calm and patient as ever while he kept that small polite smile on his lips at the face of the harsh words and interrogations. Opening his mouth just as he was about to speak his closed it immediately again as she spoke yet again, warning him not to lie to her.

He waited one heartbeat, two heart beats, and on the third beat of his calm heart he opened his mouth to speak knowing she was done. “My name is Michael Gervaise. I am a butler in a certain organization in which you know of. I call every young lady I meet mademoiselle for no reason other than my position in life. I serve my masters and mistresses just as I am bound by duty and responsibilities to serve you due to your higher status. My reasons for approaching you were for nothing more than to serve you due to your ties with the destroyed church, which is why I offered my services. Is there anything else you wish to know mademoiselle? I assure you I have no reason to lie to you and every word I speak is the truth.” He replied in the same ever courteous tone, the same calm face and gaze as he seemed completely unfazed by the situation that he had walked into.
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 4:50 am

It was all worth it, right? Was it worth it? To tolerate his toxic touch, around her arms. She had agreed to such an action reluctantly, if only for appearance's sake, but if she could use her magic whenever, his lungs would be drowned in a pool of her water as he struggled to find out what he did wrong. Yet, luckily for him, she has limitations. Identity just happens to be one of them. Although, even as they walked, Christiane-Gael felt she had seen him once before. More and more, with every smile and every step, his mannerisms, his voice, his face, it slowly started to resemble something she's seen before. Then again, it could most likely just be her mind trying to rationalize it. That's what it is, yes.

And as she awaited his answer, her arms tightened in the need to intimidate, her brows and her lips cringed at the mere sight of him, her memory slowly returned. But it couldn't be, could it? ”You...” she trailed away, taking a small step forward to analyze his face,”I think I remember you now. You're the little servant boy in the cozy little guild of Tartaros, are you not?” Taking great care to avoid revealing her affiliation in full, she asked him strictly out of curiosity, and a little bit because she was still determining what to do with him. If he is telling the truth, if he is of Tartaros, she may spare him depending on the level of danger he presents. If he is lying, she may have something to do tonight after all.

Significantly more relaxed than earlier, she approached him slowly at an angle, eventually stopping just short of two arms away from him. ”I do not believe you completely.,” she told him bluntly, a half lie, half truth. She believed in herself, and she believes she has seen him in Tartaros before, ”You do understand if I can't just trust you completely, do you realize? After all, in my life of multiple identities, great care must be taken, I hope you understand.” Adjusting her tone to be more friendly with his, Christiane-Gael became more interactive with her body language. Uplifting of the tongue, small waves of the hand, even walking past him on a few occasions. ”I have a thought if you'd care to indulge Michael Gervais. You said to wish to help the members of my congregation in Hosenka, correct? Then come with me to collect alms and donations from the better off citizenry of Hosenka. I shall evaluate your character in the meantime. Are you quite alright with that, Gervais?” Cutting her show short, she stopped straight in front of her, showing her chin and the superiority of her crossed arms at him, ”Though, I do have a rule. You cannot touch me, do you understand? Even if I say you can in the company of others, you will absolutely not, under pain of suffering. Understood?”

As much as it pains her, so much as she would have so adored continuing her hobbies after such a long delay, this takes precedence. ”You are a butler, correct? Then ensure sunlight does not strike me whilst I am outside, anyway you can think of. Are you ready?” She asked him teasingly, her eyes seeming to stare at his, but they coveted something entirely different and unseen to the untrained eyes. His eye color seems, different, strange. A mutation quite possibly. No, so much as she wants to, she can't, especially not if he is part of Tartaros. ”Well, what are you waiting for? For me to pluck your eyes out?” A morbid joke, but with some truth to it. She wanted to see why his eyes are red, only Tartaros keeping him safe at the moment.

If she were him, she would not trust her at all, much less wait on her hand and feet. She'll find out what he's planning, sooner or later.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 2:40 pm

Little….servant boy that was a term that he had not heard in a long time; and it was also a term he didn’t expect the woman in front of him to use. She was far too young to call him a boy, probably younger than even himself as he studied her youthful face more. “Yes madam, as I mentioned before.” He replied smoothly while quietly watched her, clearly waiting for something else to happen. He had said all he was ordered to tell, all that was left for him to do was wait patiently on the bed until his mistress decided to speak yet again. That or behead him and go on with her day, either one seemed like a possibility considering her actions and the way she spoke to him before. However if she recognized him than she had already revealed herself as the member he knew she was, only someone affiliated with the guild could have seen him in its halls.

Why was he not surprised that the woman didn’t trust his words, after all he had willingly followed her into a trap. He was the one who had revealed himself to her when he offered his services, if he had any ill intentions he wouldn’t have made himself known. But she was a member of a dark guild, suspicion followed the members around like a curse. Even more so if they tried to hide their true selves, it seemed to double with those whom had things they wished to keep secret. While she moved about and talked he remained silent as usual, his crimson gaze following her around while he nodded every now and again to show that he was paying attention. He simply let her work it all out with herself, however he wasn’t entirely sure what she was thinking bringing a member of a dark guild on a charity event. One would not usually trust those of their affiliation to do well in such a thing, however Michael would do as she commanded no matter what it was. All he had to do it seemed was gather jewels from the rich, shouldn’t be too hard in his mind to pull off.

Looking up at her he blinked slighting at her rule while she towered over him, seemingly unphased by her attempt of intimidating him as he smiled politely into her gaze. “I understand, however with your approval I would like the permission to touch you should the situation call for it madam. If you are injured, faint, or any number of situations that would call for it than its best I be able to tend to you properly without having to wait for your permission.” He replied simply, the tone of his voice was hard to exactly pin down. It could have just been a polite tone, or a sarcastic one. The way how he spoke and words he used could be taken as one or the other if one thought about it enough.

“Of course mademoiselle, give me but a moment.” He replied while rising up and brushing his legs, straightening his pants before he began to walk towards her. As she turned to head out of the door he opened his right hand, engulfing it in darkness as he brought his magic to bear. Out of the darkness a black umbrella appeared, clasped in his hands as the darkness faded away. The moment she stepped outside he was following behind her, his right arm reaching out above her as he opened it just in time to prevent even a single ray of light from touching her flesh.

“Pardon me for not having something more suitable for your outfit to use, however this was the best thing I had on me to accomplish the task at hand. If you wish I can attempt to find another while you are resting tonight in order to suit your desires.” He said in that ever polite tone of his while he followed her. Always slightly behind her to the left as he held the umbrella up to shade her from the pesky sun. “Madam, I have yet another thing to ask… What shall I refer to you as in public? You clearly don’t wish for the name I know you by to be mentioned, so I must have something proper to call refer to you as.”

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 3:38 pm

What a subservient male he is, obeying her every beck and call. True, he is a servant, but even servants have their own desires, their own personality. He doesn't seem to have anything of the sort. Not even an inkling of annoyance at her subtle degradation of his self-worth. If she could, without disturbing her plot, she would ask him how he remained so calm even with her rapid shift in affect relation to him. He could just be a mere servant boy made to obey every whim of the mages of Tartaros. On the other hand, being seen with him as Christiane-Gael could be dangerous. Yet on the other hand, he doesn't seem the dark mage type. But on the other hand it, it. Self-doubt crept into her psyche, threatening to turn her meticulously crafted persona of a calm, enchanting divine lady into that of a egotistical, violent woman with no boundaries. It showed in her subtle actions, a clenched fist, grating teeth, exaggerated facial movements, but she kept her poise as she always does.

”I suppose you may touch me then, that would be good imitative on your part. However, if there is another who is able, someone more preferable, such as an animal capable of lifting me, you need not concern yourself with that.” She wanted to browbeat him into submission, but it seems he beat her there. What a weak-willed person to just listen to her every word as if she owned him like a person owns the clothes on their back. ”Although, I doubt that will be necessary. I do not allow myself to fall into those situations if I have a choice,” she claimed confidentially, still eying him from head to toe to find any trace of humanity in him, of Tartaros perhaps.

Impatient and unwilling to wait for him any longer, she approached the only exit out of her quaint little shack, ”Your moment is up. Now hurry along now you cur. I can almost smell the burn of sunlight upon me,” whatever he was planning, he must be scrambling to find something to cover her. Only he would fail, there is nothing in here. The thought sent a chilling smile onto her face, only to turn to jaw dropping surprise to feel him behind her, with an umbrella from seemingly nowhere it seemed. ”My, how assertive you are to find something so quickly, and with such speed as well,” she praised him, not genuinely of course, but it was far better than scolding him and appearing to be an unfair person. They are outdoors now after all, who knows who could be watching. ”No no no, this is more than sufficient Gervais. Now, be on your best behavior, we shall approach Hosenka soon. You are to be seen, not heard, understood?” Approaching the more or less partially spared area of Hosenka, full of people rebuilding, taking in the disaster, she paced closer to him for Michael to hear, ”Call me Mistress LaChapelle, and that is all you need to know for now Gervais.”

Approaching one family after another, she offered prayers of hope in their name, ”Praise He for sparing your lives, a testament to your divine fortune,” or something of the like. She had no bowl to collect the alms she was given, but for every praise, every kind word of support, she received more and more. All of which she handed to Gervais, always keeping her senses on him. He had done nothing so far, but it did not make her feel at ease. A smart man reacts before another can, an even smarter man makes it seem he's not reacting at all.

”Gervais,” she stopped next to a torn bench, ”Tell me about yourself. How did you come to be part of the cozy little organization in Oak Town?” She had to resort to euphemisms when referring to Tartaros, but there was a reason. It's difficult to tell the truth euphemistically, even more so when your story is fabricated. ”I came to be apart of it because of a need, an intense need if you will. And you?” Speaking gently, hands grasped together in front of her, she faced the horizon even though her voice was meant for Michael.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 4:16 pm

Such a kind and grateful mistress he had, someone so willing to let him assist her in a time of need only when the bare minimal was stretched as far as it could go, so far that it threatened to break and tear at any moment, wasn’t there. He would be sure to follow her desires and have something else attend to her well-being, perhaps there was a gorilla or two in town that was capable of carrying her by her hair if she fainted. It would take him some time to search the town of course, however he was sure he could find something to accommodate her wish. “As you wish.” Was all that he relied with as he gave her a slight bow of respect.

On the inside he wanted to smirk at the mistress as her jaw dropped open in surprise at him, he knew that she didn’t expect him to have any way to successfully follow her orders, that he was going to fail before he even had a chance, however as he looked down at her all he did was give that ever polite and kind smile of his. The façade that was rarely taken off, that had been put on so many times it had become a part of him. “Thank you Mistress LaChapelle , I shall simply be the shadow that follows you wherever you shall go.” He replied smoothly while continuing to follow her, shielding her from the sun with the umbrella that was as dark as his clothing.

On the first house that they arrived at to collect jewels from he soon found out that he was meant to carry them without any proper way of storing them. His right hand was constantly holding the umbrella while his left would soon be overrun, it would be impossible to continue the pattern over and over again until finally he dropped them all. The answer was simple, it was plain, and it was effective. All he needed was a bag to carry them all in. So on the second house they approached darkness filled his left hand that held the jewels while he walked behind his mistress, out of her line of vision as the jewels disappeared into the black abyss only for a medium sized black bag, crafted of fine cloth, to appear. When she would turn around to give the jewels to him he would simply smile at her with the bag open, storing all of the jewels inside.

On the third house he decided to hold both the bag and umbrella in his right hand so that his left was free. When his mistresses began to walk away with her back turned to him and the lone owner he would smile politely and reach out to shake his hand, the other man’s eyes captivated by Michael’s ruby red gaze as darkness engulfed his hand. With the handshake done the faithful butler would slip away in an instant to follow his mistress, not even a single ray of light touching her flesh as he did the same thing from one house to another. Every time he would take something from the owner, a ring, a watch, a bracelet, the darkness would engulf and consume it all as he did as his mistress requested and helped collect ‘donations’. The bag he held would never grow full no matter how much was placed in it, the darkness he could channel inside of it would make sure it was always a reasonable weight.

Upon hearing his name Michael turned his gaze from the road ahead of them towards his mistress, looking at her patiently as she requested him to speak more of himself. “Very well Mistress LaChapelle, I was asked to join the organization as a butler. My talents were deemed worthy enough to serve its members. Nothing of interest caused me to join like other members; I simply did so because it was what was requested of me.” He replied smoothing as he spoke the honest truth, his ruby gaze shifting from her lovely face towards the road ahead as he waited patiently for her. His hand held up right to continue holding both the umbrella and black bag as he remained silent, having nothing else to reveal or tell unless he was ordered to do so.
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 5:19 pm

Quite a hilarity is what it is, she's not even giving him ridiculous orders solely to find his true character anymore. Many a times she found herself struggling to keep her amused giggle locked inside herself, finding it more difficult to avoid looking at him to see how he was doing. But she did as she must, the alms collection continued without any sort of glance at him. ”I'm surprised to see you doing so well Gervais,” she would ask out of a need to hear him communicate his displeasure, ”If you need to, we could always stop and rest,” she would ask almost too kindly. Something seemed off though. He seemed comfortable, too comfortable. The alms they received should have caused him to at least drop the umbrella, yet he walked as if nothing had occurred. She stopped, using an excuse to talk and to take a quick peek.

His bag! His bag!? Even though she had taken but a small peek, his bag! Where, where did it come from? Where did her alms go!? How did he, who, when-? ”I see. Well, aren't you just the most uninteresting male in existence,” keeping her composure, a difficult task, she crossed her arms in displeasure even with the beautiful sight of the orange sky before her. ”You do seem to be quite a talented servant boy, I must admit. So good in fact, I can never truly guess where and how you perform your tasks so dutifully,” beating around the bush with a sing-song tone, she thought to herself, how!? Turning her eyes to the left to take another peek, she eyed the bag as best she could from her angle. Empty, if though they had received so many alms. And him, he doesn't appear to be bulge anywhere on his clothes!

The annoyance plagued her, eating her from the inside out. This man, this man! ”Oh please Gervais, you may put the umbrella down, I was only teasing after all,” she requested of him unsincerely, ”Come, shall we take a look at the horizon together?” Reaching her hand out to his umbrella burdened wrist, she pulled him with her onto what used to be a home. People lived here once, laughed, played, loved, but Christiane-Gael was using it as a tool to uncover this man. ”Come Gervais, I swear you are far more girly than I,” she joshed with him, her eyes focusing on the bag and him entirely. She has to find out! Smashing through roof tiles with her feet, she trudged through the burnt home with little restraint until she reached the hole in the back of the house. Emerging from it, she playfully pushed him outwards, purposely feeling the pockets on his shirt and using that opportunity to look inside the bag.

”Pray tell Gervais, where are the alms?” She questioned him, displeased at finding nothing on him, ”I am just curious, and you are an amazingly talented butler, you are! However...” her eyes tightened from their cheery expression before, turning into one of frowning displeasure, ”I do not see them anywhere. Why is that, Gervais?” Her voice had tightened into a harsh growl, threatening to tear his ears off if his answer was not satisfactory. And so, his true colors are revealed, just like everyone’s are.

Predictable.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 7:36 pm

His mistress was far too to kind, giving him the chance to take a break after she intently tried to set him up for failure time and time again. He knew better to accept such kindness from her, at least for the time being. “I assure you Mistress LaChapelle I am fit to carry on for as long as you see fit. The collection for the church comes above my own well-being.” Michael replied in a smoothly without any signs of distress, for him this was nothing more than a simple stroll around town with a lovely lady. He could continue doing this day and night so long as his mistress wished it of him, however despite his assurances that he was perfectly fine.

Michael’s posture remained upright and regal as his mistress addressed him, the umbrella held unwavering over her head to shade her beautiful skin from the harsh sun as she had commanded. She contradicted herself, not that he was going to point it out but by calling him uninteresting and then complimenting his skills in the next breath wasn’t the best way to proceed with a conversation. It lacked continuity, solidarity; if she was going to try to put him down she should simply do it. While if she was trying to compliment him she should just do that as well, however it wasn’t his place to judge her way of speaking or choice of words. “It is simple my lady, I am one hell of a butler.” He replied with the faintest hit of emotion in his voice, an emotion that could literally be anything. Arrogance, resentment, joy, sadness, love, it was far too little to be able to tell which if any it was. All the while his scarlet gaze was looking at her from the corner of his eyes, watching her try and take some not so subtle peeks at the back in his right hand.

Upon hearing what he assumed to be her next orders he obediently closed the umbrella and lowered it as she had commanded, still in his grasp along with the bag should she command him to resume guarding her flesh. He allowed himself to be grasped and led away despite her earlier disdain of touching him, something was certainly going through her mind and his clever head was already guessing what it was. While she crushed the debris beneath her feet he quietly stepped around his, careful where his feet landed as he followed her like a cat on a leash. When his mistress called him girly he suspected it was because of his careful nature in walking over what was very well the death site for a handful of people, something that wasn’t an issue for him however he didn’t wish to dirty his shoes with the ashes of their corpses. “I apologize for my girlish actions; I shall attempt to be more… barbaric if you wish.” He replied in his usual polite tone and courteous tone.

Stumbling forward Michael smiled slightly as he felt her hands wandering over his body. He didn’t smile because she was trying to feel him up like some women, he was smiling because he had caught her and her true purpose for this side stop. As her hands roamed his body she wouldn’t find what she was looking for, however when her hands disappeared into his pockets darkness would engulf them. She wouldn’t be able to feel it, she wouldn’t even know what was happening most likely, however on her left ring finger a beautiful ruby ring appeared within the darkness. It was as bright as his scarlet gaze was in the orange light from the evening sky, it was so light that she most likely wouldn’t even notice its existence on her finger.

Stepping back as she revealed her true intentions verbally he simply gave her a polite smile as he opened the umbrella on the ground. It was upside down to create a makeshift bowl as he placed it between him and her. “As you commanded Mistress LaChapelle I have been carrying them this entire time, protecting them from the gaze of would be robbers in this time of need. When disaster strikes human nature for survival comes out in it most horrid form, I did not wish for all the donations you have worked too hard to get to have been taken away so I kept them all here, in this bag.” He said calmly while lifting the bag upside down over the umbrella, the darkness filling it up from the inside as all the alms she had gotten fell out in a glorious torrent. A torrent that was far too large to have fit inside of the bag no matter how much they were stuffed in, let alone leaving the bag in seemingly empty state it had been in.

With the darkness now gone from inside the bag he placed it over the umbrella handle as he bowed deeply before her as a proper butler would. “Your alms my lady, everything we have collected you shall find there… Ah, I almost forgot.” He said respectfully, while reaching into his coat. From their current angle she couldn’t see what he was doing, she couldn’t see the darkness engulfing his hand and leaving as he pulled out a large handful of various bracelets and rings before raising up. It was held loosely in both his hands as he gave her a polite smile, once again pulling things out of seemingly nowhere.

“The generous owners who were so well off thought that they could give more than they had first at first. So I accepted the payment they had to offer on your behalf… Althought I think that you are currently wearing one of the rings my lady, it is not a proper of a priestess to take donations for herself.” He replied smoothly while nodding in direction to her left hand. The polite smile still on his face as he stood before miracle after miracle that he had been pulling out of thin air.
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sat Sep 29, 2012 9:21 pm

”Oh, were you carrying them the whole were you?” She responded without little to no confidence in his words. How preposterous, she felt nothing on him, nor can she visibly see anything. ”I told you once that you should not lie to me Gervais, so what are you-” The sounds of falling jewels ended her verbal assault. He, how did he, what did he, what!? ”There was nothing in the bag! I saw! How did you-you, I. What?” She was dumbfounded, her voice lost under piles of questions and rage. What a clever one he is, too clever for his own good some may say.

How hard she found it to stay herself, to hold herself from nailing him into a wall and carving his eyes out so carelessly. But he is a a butler of Tartaros, a mage perhaps. Sadly, it behooves her to keep him alive. But she wants to see how glib his tongue is after she makes him eat her knives! But Tartaros would question her about his whereabouts. But she could so easily separate him limb from limb and spread him apart Fiore, no one would ever find him. ”Oh, and what have we here? What an ingenious way to carry jewels, Gervais. I am impressed by your ingenuity, for someone so lacking in any true personality,” she knowingly handed him a back-handed compliment. If he wanted to play a game, it became more and more clearer to her she would not win. She can't beat him, she can't force his true colors to emerge by playing with him on this level.

Turning her back from to him, she wandered, humming a little lullaby while she gathered her thoughts. ”So far, you have materialized an umbrella out of nowhere, put the alms I so meticulously asked for into a bag which has no business holding so many Jewels.” Turning to face him again, she politely smiled while pointing it, ”Oh, don't mind me. I'm just thinking aloud you see.” He's a smart one, she has to concede that. Yes, he is a smart one. Walking towards him, she looked at the Jewels and the jewelry he must have more or less pocketed from the people she begged from.

”I am very impressed with your initiative Gervais,” she told him whilst tinkering with a ring with the very tip of her finger. A finger that looked different. It wasn't there before. Her left hand! ”How did this ring! I didn't put this...sigh, I did not put this on.” Taking a deep breath, she calmed her nerves before she did anything too drastic. His smooth replies, his seemingly harmless cuts from the tip of his tongue. In a huff of displeasure and a quick turn away from her, angrily removing the ring and throwing it behind her with no care of where it would land, she ordered him, ”Put it all back where you found it, and we shall never speak of this again. Understood!?” She was losing control of her volume, her temper, and she knew it. ”You are a mage, I realize that. Come with me, I shall show you where I sleep at night,” irritated, she stomped past the debris and back out onto the ruined paved roads of Hosenka.

Her teeth gnawed and bit the center of her tongue in an attempt to displace the rage she felt, her fingers rubbed against each other even though she hid both behind her back. This man, this wretch! How dare he make a fool of her. ”Gervais, before I show you the full way. I need proof,” walking and talking, her voice maintained a demure status she always takes great effort to keep up in public. But, it had developed a hoarseness from keeping her feelings from surfacing in an unpleasant manner, ”Show me proof. No more games, just show me. Then, I shall believe you and we can put this all behind us and I can treat you civilly as best I can you wretch,” as much as it displeased her at the possibility of him being a butler of Tartaros, she has no choice. She owes them for their lessons after all.

”Also, I just remembered this,” turning her head so she could peer at him with a tilt of her pupils, she finished, ”A hell of a butler? Hmph, you are a hell of something alright, Gervais.”

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sun Sep 30, 2012 1:36 am

Such an untrained mistress he was serving to so openly reveal her surprise and show just how dumbfounded she was by nothing more than a simply parlor’s trick. She lived in a world of magic, one should come to expect the unexpected from people, especially people who belonged to guilds. Her expression however did make his lips curve ever so slightly, it was such a small change that it could easily be taken as the shadows playing tricks in the evening night. He was almost tempted to tease her about her expression, about her lack of words, of how she stumbled over herself to dumbfound to even know what it was she wanted to ask. Almost, after all he didn’t have a death wish per say and such an act would not be expected out of a butler such as himself, his mistress was already being pushed enough it appeared… however that didn’t mean that he would disobey any orders she was foolish enough to give him.

Instead he kept the polite face and patient blood red gaze, in all appearances being the person she claimed to lack a personality, something she seemed to displease. Bowing at the back-handed compliment he smiled warmly up at her, the glint in his eyes shifting to appreciation as he looked up at his mistress. “You are to kind Mistress LaChapelle, I was simply following orders.” He replied as both the look in his eyes, the smile on his face, and the tone of his words made it appear as if he was treating the slap in the face compliment was an entirely good thing. Raising back up he continued watching her, waiting for her next move as she was the leader and he was nothing but a follower.

When she wandered off he remained where he was, like a stone statue as his gaze quietly followed her, waiting for her orders, waiting for her to gather her mind and attempt to give him yet another impossible task. When she spoke he listened but didn’t reply, the only thing he did was smile politely at her and slightly tilt his head to show he was paying attention to her every word, her every movement, simply waiting for a task to be thrown at him so that he may do so with perfection. Michael was raised to be nothing but a butler, and as such he consumed all he needed in order to best serve his masters on many different occasions. He was prepared, he has been prepared, so far the only one who wasn’t it seemed this lovely evening was the one he served.

“If you didn’t my lady, perhaps it slipped on while you were fondling me?” He replied smoothly in a slightly questioning tone while he tiled his head slightly, as if in thought when she finally brought up the matter of the ring on her finger. Never mind, maybe he did had a slight death wish. Either way his mistress was in the very least entertaining, everything she lacked in refined control, control that he had, she had in being an amusing mistress. Bowing deeply once again as she threw the ring back and stomped off of the area, she failed to see the thing she so desperately wished to see. The darkness flowing out of his body as it flowed over all of the items and jewels, once again reclaiming it into the depths of the abyss that lay within him. Rising up he left the darkness behind him as it faded away, following his mistress as he had been commanded. “I have already forgotten what it was that happened this lovely evening My Lady.”

His mistress was upset, it was as obvious to him… as… well it would be to anyone else following behind her. The blenched hands and rubbing fingers behind her back did nothing to hide her emotions when he was the one following her. When she demanded proof he simply smiled softly to himself while her back was turned, such a naïve order to give him of all people. However before she could turn around the smile was gone and replaced with a stoic face of a true butler, with only a polite smile at her little comment for emotion. Reaching up he gripped his upper right shoulder as if he was hiding something while his gaze glanced around the area. “Mistress LaChapelle, it is not wise to… prove myself in public. Shall we head somewhere more private so you may satisfy yourself? The shack you brought me to before would be an ideal spot to examine my proof. “
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sun Sep 30, 2012 2:50 am

He is a hilarious man, she thought sarcastically to herself, a talented, bellyaching mess he is. Making her believe that he's just an ordinary, pathetic little man with no hope. Something he's proven wrong again and again. The umbrella, the fourth dimensional space in his bag, the ring he somehow slipped onto her finger. At least she's convinced he put it on her finger, how else could it end up there? Gervais, that man! His name resonated in her head like a pricking needle that won't stop trying to pierce her skin! He may or may not be of Tartaros, she has not determined it yet. ”Well? Hurry it up, I'm not going to lead you to where I sleep at night without seeing identification you cu-, Gervais,” she stopped herself just in time. She is in public, she is the light on top of a pitiful hill, and she must hold herself as such. ”You understand, do you not? As much as I would like to, I must sleep with both eyes closed.” Sad as it is, she has concluded that the chances of him being a mage of Tartaros far outweigh the chances she can simply do away with him and not have to answer to their Guild Master.

”Well? I may stop being kind and just leave you out here if you do not comply, Gervais. And please believe me when I say I will not fondle you into leaving. I have more creative ways. Or can your hell of a butler mind not understand that? If you can even remember that is.” Is he stalling? She had harshly scolded him with a thickening of her syllables, but is he actually stalling? What is he waiting for? Enough people had left to be with their shattered lives that she could afford to be a bit less motherly, but not enough for her to be able to urge him just a bit more. ”Are you serious, you cur?” She was, in her opinion, rightly displeased. What kind of man would care about such things at showing a little skin for a measly little tattoo? ”Very well, if you insist. Come with me, we can go to the shack. Come, we may use the off roads,” without waiting for his compliance, she took a turn off of the roads built by man onto earth as nature created it. Uneven, grassy, full of life, earthy...dirty, it was as it once was. It was also the quickest way back to the shack, having had to backtrack because of Gervais' incessant need to show her one little tattoo in public.

Although, perhaps he has the right idea. It would be unwise for someone to see her with anyone bearing the mark of Tartaros. ”Michael Gervais, of all places, you go to Hosenka. How I question the wisdom of our master in giving such folk as you free reign to travel as they wish. Had I actually been performing an important task, you would've had me discovered you fool.” out, away from the eyes and ears of nosy passerbys, she could afford to be herself. Unhappy, unladylike, and hateful of the man behind her. She believed that policy was a terrific one, the best she has seen from him in fact. Just...she does not feel too happy with certain people at the moment is all.

”We're here, the so beloved secret shack of yours,” she announced with so very little excitement and mostly disgruntled vowels. Entering it for what seemed to be the second dreadful time, she led him in and closed it behind him. No intent to kill him and take his glaring red eyes for herself, no intent at all. ”Now, show me your tattoo Gervais,” she demanded of him with little patience, having already missed her opportunity to hunt for a specimen thanks to him.

Seating herself tightly to the table, the rickety chair proving to be untrustworthy through sound, the dust she slid off of the table proving itself to be unsanitary, the laid the side of her head on her hand while continuing to demand, ”Gervais, I have done as you have requested, we are away from prying eyes.” Well, it is a bit unfair. He must show her his tattoo, while he must trust that she is merely a mage of Tartaros as well. Even Christiane-Gael understands the meaning of fairness, of truth, of compromise. ”I see what this is. Here, give me a moment Gervais,” standing, she began remove her headdress, her precious cross, she laid them carefully on the still soiled table. Unbuttoning from neck to just below her bust, removing laces, unsealing the means to remove her nun outfit, she laid a large portion of her holy dress onto the chair, revealing her torso covered by only her gloves and a black brassiere. Pointing to her belly, she verified, ”This is the tattoo of Tartaros, is it not? Now show me yours. If you can not prove it to me, you will die here and now.” How she wished he wouldn't prove it.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sun Sep 30, 2012 3:36 am

Such a rude mistress he had offered his services too, so impatient, so unrefined, even in public she couldn’t hold the act of being a priestess up. Cursing in public, prettying yelling at him to strip down so that she could examine him, defiantly someone who wasn’t even half as refined as himself. Was her mind really so boggled by his parlor tricks that she couldn’t think straight, that she couldn’t see it was for her own good to go someplace hidden away. However it wasn’t his concern, she was his mistress and he was bound to serve her however she deemed fit. It was a small blessing however as she finally decided to accept his suggestion, maybe she finally saw the light? That or she had simply grown bored with yelling at a man who showed no reaction or emotions to her verbal abuse, whom kept that same stoic face of an ideal butler while his master was in a mood or two.

“The master does not reveal the movements of all of his members to me, nor does he care about what I do. Besides Mistress LaChapelle is it really so odd for a butler to offer his services to a priestess when she preaches before a destroyed church, to refer to her politely and bow?” He replied smoothly while following her diligently, avoiding the mud and filth of the path while keeping up with her. Avoiding mentioning the little fact that she was the biggest threat to her cover due to her actions, words, and lack of control… nothing he would bring up, he liked his eyes right where they were.

As they got into the shack with yet more un-lady like words from the woman he was just about to reveal his tattoo when something stopped him. For some odd reason she thought there was a reason why he was hesitating when in reality he was just listening to hear if anyone was in the area, having a peeping tom would ruin her appearance more than anything considering his tattoo. When she stood up and began to undress he blinked momentarily as he watched her, not saying a single word in the meantime. Despite her personality she was certainly a beautiful woman, his crimson gaze now held a new glint of something that couldn’t quite be placed, in them as he followed her neck down, slowly sliding over her chest as he focused in on the tattoo on her stomach. Yes, a fine young lady indeed, however one that had an odd habit of stripping themselves for strangers indeed.

He was tempted to point out she just bared her flesh to a stranger, revealed her mark to someone she didn’t even know belonged to her guild, and opened herself for attack as she was undressing before a person she knew was capable of magic. However that would simply spoil the lovely moment that was before him as he was rewarded slightly with the view of such a lovely mistress’s flesh. Bowing deeply in respect he spoke. “As you wish My Lady, however I would have done so even without you exposing yourself to me.” He replied as he stood up and reached down with his hands, slowly unbuttoning his black dress pants before pushing both them and his underwear clear to the ground. With that done and his entire lower body exposed he lifted his right leg and placed it on the bed, revealing the tattoo of their guild on his right thigh, very high on his right thigh, far higher than any tattoo had a right to be, in fact it was hard to tell if it was even on his thigh anymore of it crossed over to another area entirely.

“Forgive my hesitation to show it to you before while we were out in the open, I thought it would be wise to reduce as many chances as possible of people seeing us in such a position… if you wish I can strip further so you may inspect me for any other markings that belong to other guilds if you think this is a fake. Or take a closer look to compare it to your own if you desire to ensure it is original.” He replied in an emotionless tone of voice as he deliberately masked all emotions he was having, speaking and looking as if exposing himself in such a way was a perfectly natural thing.
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sun Sep 30, 2012 4:19 am

Holding her arms tightly against her, crossed around her chest in a rather relaxed manner paradoxically. Taking off her holy habit had something of a calming effect on it, clearing the rage which clouded her mind. She had been angry at him all day, for no reason other than the fact that he had intruded on her plans. Perhaps she was wrong. ”Michael Gervis,” she began with a regretful sigh, ”Perhaps I have been less than fair to you today. And the fact that you have endured beyond all reasoning is impressive, to say the least.” Walking back and forth, her collecting her thoughts coherently while not even caring about his tattoo as much anymore, ”I was stubborn in my judgment of you. But now I see that you are a mage of Tartaros, if you can prove it. I shall treat you more respectfully, and with less contempt. You have done well today, Michael Gervis.” She does not admit faults. She identifies them, and corrects them, but never does she admit them. ”Also, do I look like a priestess to you? I am merely a mistress-to-be who has the duties of a deacon, a minister, and every other title you can think of. Priestess, I am not.” Sitting on a chair just across the one holding her habit, she turned her head to the side before finishing, ”But I do appreciate the respect you have shown me thus far. Thank you Michael Gervis.”

Thinking about it, expose herself? This? All she did was to disrobe. ”What are you talking about? What are you doing?” She asked him slightly alarmed. His trousers flew off, his undergarments, his...there is nothing else. His tattoo, is that his tattoo? ”You hide your tattoo there?” Obviously shocked, jaw dropping and all. ”If you would so please, remove your leg off of my bed. That part of the body is filthy enough on a woman, I can't imagine what it's like with a man,” she avoided looking directly at his tattoo not out of a sense of modesty, but a sense of duty. Christiane-Gael was always told not to, and she never has. But she has always seen the anatomy of that region in a corpse, never a living, human man.

Approaching closer, she crouched down, squinting heavily to make out the markings of his tattoo. Even if she could not see it completely, it was clear that it was of Tartaros origin. She resisted, but she wanted to. The opportunity she wouldn't receive so easily again. The opportunity to study a living man's nether anatomy. But for some reason, it was a filthy, dirty area she must never look at nor touch. ”It is authentic,” Christiane-Gael assured him, returning to her own two feet dejectedly, ”Very well, let us leave this place. There is a far more comfortable place we can lay our heads for the night,” even as she returned to her clothing, Christiane-Gael unsubtly glanced back at the foreign anatomy behind her, curiosity biting the insides of her mind demanding her to go back, go back and study it! But the values placed upon her, ones she could not escape fought back, begging her to avert her eyes.

Sadly, her values won. Hurriedly putting her habit back on, tunic, headdress, a cross she loving kissed, and all, Christiane-Gael instructed him, ”Put on some clothes. The public does not like seeing a half naked man with a woman in a holy habit.” Pushing the door open gently, she looked back with an insincere smiling, calling out, ”Come Michael Gervais. This shack is no place for a friend of my congregation to lay his head.” Running her hands through her hair and her headdress aggressively, she thought of another matter she thought most important. ”Oh, and another thing. Do not inform others that Enfant Perdu is not my real name,” as much as she tried to be cordial about it, she could not. Her mood soured once more, but she would perform as best she could in avoiding transferring her bitterness onto Gervais.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Sun Sep 30, 2012 11:42 pm

Was his mistress actually being decent, kind…ish, and sort of apologizing? It was a surprise that made even Michael’s eyes widen, slightly that is. If anything it spoke of how low he had thought of her personality in the first place, still thought of it in all honesty as he did not yet spend enough time with his mistress to know her true self. Nonetheless it was a pleasant chance from her usual attitude that she has been giving him all day. It would be nice if this was her real personality, however he doubted it. Bowing deeply he replied in the ever polite tone of his. “Thank you for the compliment my lady, I was simply doing my job however.” He replied respectfully before he proceeded to show her proof of his membership.

Standing before her as he showed the truth of his loyalties he simply shrugged before removing his foot from her bed. “I apologize, it is simply easier to see with my leg propped up on something… And of course I would place it there. I am a butler whose purpose is to serve in an all manner of areas, I cannot have my brand of loyalty out where anyone can see. So it is place to place it on an area of the body that is for the most part concealed at all times in order to serve best.” He replied matter of factly as he spoke the truth. He had considered putting it on his hand or chest, however there would be times when they would be uncovered or circumstances that would force him to reveal those portions of his body.

When she crouched down to examine his mark closer her continued staring straight ahead as a he let her attend to her business. It would be rude to stare at her as she examined his more private area of his body. His hands were clasped behind his back as he kept the perfect stoic face, ruby gaze locked ahead as he kept a tight rein on his emotions. A slip up now in the position they were both in would disrespect his mistress, something a butler should try to avoid. “As you wish Mistress LaChapelle.” Was all he said in reply before leaning down to pull his pants up and secure them properly on his body.

Brushing the wrinkles out of them while his mistress called him over he rose up to bend over ever so slightly in a polite bow of his head. “Thank you my lady, I shall be but a moment.” He said as he idly brushed his leggings some more to get the filth of the floor off of them. Walking towards her he nodded once again as he walked up behind her, following her out of the door as the darkness surrounded his hands once again while her back was turned and her attention on the road before her. “As you command, my fair lady.” He replied smoothly as a lantern on a long, 10 foot pole slipped out of his hands. With the darkness now gone the lantern shined brightly above them as he held it out over her head, illuminating the way as darkness fell upon the land.
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Mon Oct 01, 2012 10:35 pm

”It has been on my mind for quite some time now, Michael Gervais,” Christiane-Gael began, her eyes keeping straight ahead as if the sight of him no longer intrigued her when in reality, certain phenotypes in his genetics have caught her eye, ”I asked you how you came to become a butler of our cozy group, but I never asked you why, nor did I ask you how you became a butler. Surely you did not become a butler overnight.” A question she asked to being another question, one she would ask later on to further her personal interests. Interests he may or may not share, interests he may or may not understand, but hers all the same.

Leading him through roads meticulously carved by mankind this time, relatively clean if somewhat unserviceable no thanks to a recent disaster, she had a thought that needed to be resolved. Several in fact. He was a butler of Tartaros, ergo making him her butler when she requires his services. ”This way Michael Gervais,” she called out to him, paradoxically tender compared to her abrasive treatment of him since the moment she felt threatened by meeting him. ”You will have to make do tonight. It is no villa, but it is no pauper's retreat either. It won't be terribly spacious, nor is it uncomfortable tight. I hope you do not mind, but my congregation doesn't exactly invest in prime real estate,” Christiane-Gael peered to her side, looking straight past him while using her peripherals to scan items of interest. As much as she would like to, her normal matter of learning cannot be used. She'll have to use a less hands on approach for this, sadly.

She didn't talk much during their brisk walk, she perhaps answered a question or two, or responded to strangers in a polite, overly demure manner, but the more she tried to answer questions, the more they appeared within her mind. He knows about her, about Enfant Perdu, about LaChapelle. ”Come, this way. If anyone asks, tell them you are a friend from Oak Town, and nothing more,” she instructed him, walking up the stairs of a multifamily housing complex, past the clutter of impoverished men, women, and children and to a plain door at the uppermost third floor. ”Oh, but if anyone comes asking for grace or prayer, either ask me or ask someone in a habit. Also, you may turn off your light. I like it at least relatively dark in my room,” another set instruction before opening the door a near pitch black room. Walking around with feel, instinct, and a naturally evolved set of eyes used to living in darkness, she lit a candle one by one with what seems to be one of the few pieces of technology allowed in the room, a mechanical lighter. Taking it from its resting place on the counter immediately to her right upon entering, she roamed from one corner to the next. A candle in each corner, the first laid upon an antique but sturdy night study desk; the second at the foot of a one person a neat, one person bed on top of a separate drawer; the third was placed on a small table next to the window and its curtain; and the final was on the counter where she had acquired the lighter from in the first place, leaving the room dimly illuminated and the lighter back to its rightful place when she was done. They released a scent of burning wax, but they offered little heat and little light, just as she preferred.

”Come, sit down,” she patted on the unbelievably, meticulously folded sheets of white on her bed, ”It is far too early for us to sleep, and I still have several curiosities about you, Michael Gervais, if you'd care to answer,” carelessly throwing her headdress and habit off, save for her cross, on the space behind her, she continued to undress in the comfort and privacy of a room she can call her own for now. ”First of all, I like to sleep and live in dark, cold, damp rooms. I find it comforting. Second of all, unless people know about our affiliation with our cozy group in Oak, do not fret about doing as you will in here,” a statement she freely expressed, having already removed much of her clothing and folded them neatly upon realizing the necessity of a crisp appearance in the morrow. In nothing but her undergarments, she looked over to Michael, further adding, ”If you cannot perform the nightly hygiene rituals, you may turn on a stronger light.”

Continuing onwards, she freely asked, ”Tell me about your parents, your ancestry if you remember. I'd like to know about the physical characteristics they passed onto you,” looking at him, his most notable feature are his red eyes. Rare, if not outright nearly non-existent in a normal human population, how she would like to extract even a piece of it to see it from its most basic building block. Moving on, ”You have not questioned me one bit, by the way. I find it excessively odd. You do not ask me why I veil myself, and you do not question why the future mistress of a chapel came to join our cozy group. Surely you must have a least a strong enough individualistic will to question me on that, Michael Gervais.” She did her best, she tried to sound cordial, but it is a work in progress.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Tue Oct 02, 2012 1:33 am

Michael glanced over towards his mistress as they walked, the lantern still held high above them as she spoke to him. Upon hearing her next words however he was not expecting to have her curious about his past, judging from the events of the day he would have expected his magic to be at the top of her list of questions. “That’s true my lady, you never did inquire about my life before the guild.” He replied politely as they continued walking, saying nothing else on the subject as he let it rest, failing to satisfy her curiosity. Christiane had simply pointed out that she never asked it from the way she worded it, and he spoke the truth when he replied to her. She had never given him a direct question or order in which would obligate him to answer the matter, so therefore he let himself slip through the loops for a while longer.

As they walked in silence he followed her with his noiseless steps, only the light above her and the warmth radiating off of his body signaling his presence. He continued looking straight ahead as he saw her head turning, his head lowing slightly as he replied to her strangely tender voice. “No matter what accommodations you have for me, it is an honor to be taken in by my mistress. I shall accept anything you give me without complaint.” Even if he was given a barn as a place to sleep it would be acceptable so long as his mistress requested he slept there, if she felt it best he slept way from her, on the foot of her bed, or on the floor than he would do so. She would know what she liked best for him to do so the decision was purely up to her.

During their walk he asked no questions as he simply followed her, any curiosity about any of his masters or mistresses were mentally swept aside as soon as they arouse. As a butler it was his job to follow orders and their wishes, anything else about them did not matter so long as he accomplished his job unhindered. “I understand.” He said simply, a friend of oak town it was. Lowering the lantern as she commanded he put out the flame and carried both the pole and it with him as he continued following her, mentally noting the orders she was given for future reference. He would be sure to limit himself to lighting as much as possible while in her presence. Stepping in to follow her the darkness consumed the pole an lantern while no one was watching, storing it until it was needed once again after closing the door behind him.

He looked around, examining the plain room as he began to get a general idea of where he was to sleep. It seemed as if the floor was his option for the night unless she placed him with someone else in another room, which was just as likely in his mind. Not all masters and mistresses, if any, would even consider of offering their servant a place to sleep just as good as their own or better. It simply wasn’t in the nature of either class to give or receive that sort of treatment. “As you command, I am bound to answer any questions you have to ask of me so long as they don’t interfere with any previous orders I have received.” He replied as he obediently took a seat on the bed as she had indicated, his hands lightly folded on his lap while the white gloves shimmered slightly in the candle light. His ruby gaze looking towards her as the flicker of flames could be seen in the crimson gaze, as if his eyes themselves were hiding a flame inside of them. “I should be able to perform my nightly duties in the dark so that you are not disturbed, I thank you for your consideration of my healthy.”

When his mistress asked about his past in such a way that he could not avoid he smiled politely at her with his head tilting, inside he felt an odd sense of… hesitation about talking about his past. He wasn’t quite sure how exactly to describe it however it was simply something strange inside of him that he never quite managed to understand. It didn’t show in his reply when she had finished speaking however when he began to talk. “I had no parents my lady, I regret to inform you this is one of the questions I am unable to answer you. My knowledge of my ancestors are nonexistent, the traits of my genetic parents unknown.” He replied honestly with that ever polite smile and tone on his face while he continued gazing at her patiently. It was almost eerie how he could talk about such things as if she would be the one more disappointed about it than he was.

Blinking in mild surprise he looked at her while she questioned his lack of curiosity about her. About how he didn’t pry into her life or seek to learn more about her. “As a servant it is not my place to question my masters or mistresses. If they choose to reveal things to me than that is a gift they have given me, not one that I may ask for. My role is to serve them without knowledge as I follow blindly in the dark and follow commands like a loyal pet… Does this somehow displease you mistress? None of my other masters or mistresses were every disappointed in my lack of questions and felt that my blind obedience was what was best of me.” He said respectfully with a hint of confusion, wondering why someone would want another person prying into their personal lives. More so when said person was a servant to them.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Tue Oct 02, 2012 11:40 am

What a pity, it seems he is a consummate servant, through and true. He has no life other than that of those he serves. So formal, almost unmatched etiquette even in the face of abuse, verbal or otherwise. It's almost a bit sad really. Almost as if he had no personality, or couldn't have a personality of his own, something Christiane-Gael can more or less understand. So much so that she can now somewhat comprehend the smile he always has on, as if he sewed it on or something of the sort. Unlike her, he has far control. A fact she barely genuinely smiled about out of pure amusement. ”Is that so, Michael Gervais?” She regretfully sighed with a cock of her head towards the ceiling, ”How utterly regrettable. Red eyes are so rare too, such a pity I won't be able to learn more about them.” Only now realizing the inappropriateness of her appearance with a guest in the room, she halfheartedly walked over to her bed's drawers and reluctantly pulled out a single-piece nightgown. The illusion of modesty combined with the need to feel the haunting touch of cold at night, a little turquoise thing covering only the bare essentials as a necessity, not a desire.

”So much as it pains me, even during my private hours, I must, keep up an appearance of modesty. You under-stand, don't you?” Christiane-Gael uttered to the side, sliding her nightgown effortlessly onto her, ”To act a certain way because you have to, not because you are. To be seen as this perfect being the world can fall in love with, when in fact you would love nothing more than to live in a cave the rest of your life. Do you understand, Michael Gervais?” Upon repeating her statement, she paused in voice, returning to her original position on her bed. Why was she so interested in his fate? She wants to learn about his red eyes, not his life! ”But life is not fair, is it, Michael Gervais? Such is life,” She wanted to talk no more of it, as evidenced by her abrupt end and beginning of a new subject.

”Moving on,” abruptly cutting herself off, ”The reason I find myself bothered by your lack of individual will disturbs me. As far as I know, you are a living, human being are you not? The only thing that separates and makes people actually useful to me if they have their own desires, a soul if you will,” she spoke in a confident, neutral voice born from her need to appear unbreakable at all times, ”But you, you appear to have nothing. While I will admittedly tell you falsehoods and some truths, I find it disturbing that someone who wants to become my servant doesn't have the initiative to satisfy his own curiosities, especially when we are alone. I expect all my servants to not only be intelligent, but also have the courage and vigor to ask measly questions.” scanning him from head to to again, fixating on objects of interest she can't satisfy as long as he is a mage of Tartaros once more, she added, ”If wanted a pet, I will tell you to get me a cat.”

She waited for a response from him, a response she had a feeling would not come so easily. ”Well, Michael Gervais?” She asked him, crossing her arms and legs with an eager and impatient disposition on her face, ”Are you going to ask me anything?” Christiane-Gael held her positions, sternly looking through him even as she subtly eyed his eye. For someone with such fair skin, his hair seemed unnaturally dark. Perhaps he has mixed ancestry? An answer she can discover much later, for now, he has to prove his worth, ”Come now, I know you're curious about something. Would it help if I call you little Michael from now?” Almost tauntingly, suggesting his similarities to a boy who doesn't know how to speak, ”Or if you'd like, I may call you Michael, if you voice opinions when you find it necessary, and if you question me when you find the urge.”

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Tue Oct 02, 2012 6:11 pm

After failing to satisfy his mistress’s curiosity about his heritage he politely averted his gaze when she rose up to get dressed. Failing to see the displease in her body language as she dressed while he kept his eyes elsewhere, knowing that it wasn’t polite to spy when one got dressed… even though they were just sitting not even five feet away in nothing but undergarments. He kept his gaze away from her as she continued speaking to him about appearances and the unfairness of life, waiting for when it was deemed appropriate for him to speak or if she should at all. She seemed to be answering herself as she goes on, asking questions then making it so he couldn’t answer them or reply in depth. “It is as you say, life is not fair.” Was all he said, it was all that he could say in reply as his mistresses moved on with the conversation.

With his mistress now back beside him on the bed dressed in a nightgown he looked back at her while listening calmly to her… disappointment in him he assumed. It was odd, finding someone who actually wanted him to question them. However he did learn one important thing, if his mistress ever felt the need for a companion a cat would do… sadly however he was unable to carry a cat around with him like he did with his seemingly unlimited supply of objects. The darkness could not consume things with a mind after all. He spent a moment thinking of a reply, his head tilted slightly to the side in thought as he went through a few questions that could quickly prove that he had this soul she spoke of. As she grew impatient, as she teased him and taunted the idea came to his mind. Closing his eyes he gave her his signature polite smile.

“Very well mistress, I suppose I do have a question for you… How does it feel to be outsmarted by a man with no soul no matter what you commanded of him?” He replied respectfully and politely as he slowly opened his eyes, his crimson gaze filled with the flickering flames however with something else this time. It was a glint of amusement, of arrogance, his smile and tone of voice was the same as always however his words and eyes were what was taunting her now. “But if you prefer not to answer that, I could always pry deeper into your life if you wish mistress. To ask why you allow yourself to be made into something you clearly do not wish, why you accept the fate you believed to be placed upon you when you can change it… You claim to be bothered by my personality and how I treat my role in life, however is it not true that I could very well end up being an example of what you shall become in the future?” He said with the same tone of voice, smile, and eyes before bowing his head in respect to her. “Forgive me my lady for what I have said, I was merely following your orders as you commanded. I humbly await any punishment you deem fit for my choice of words .”
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Tue Oct 02, 2012 7:47 pm

It seemed ridiculous, how such scathing words can make a day filled with boredom and stinging annoyance working in tandem can be so fulfilled by extremely accurate criticisms. To think, he did it all with a smile too, one she couldn't help but return in a rare display of amusement outside of her personal hobbies and research. This is an impressive one, and not just because of the rarity of his traits, or the oddities of his physical form. Freely releasing the tension in her body, she laid on her exhausted back, her arms carelessly threw itself below her head, and her legs hung off the edge, revealing how little sunlight it has seen when candlelight illuminated her area. ”Oh my, what took you so long, Michael?” Christiane-Gael asked him, clearly amused by his questions and his audacity. She could so easily kill him, make him disappear, tell Tartaros she mistook him for a rival guild mage, but he's far too entertaining. Everyone's too busy either paying her respects as a voice of the holy one, or getting attacking her as Enfant Perdu; but he, Michael, he has the daring to question her so rudely.

”Yes yes yes, I have been bested by you, almighty butler. In this matter, I will admit, you are far more witty and far wiser than I,” a concession she gladly gave, considering how he earned it. ”Oh, put your taunting eyes away, and your incessant bowing. You have no need to do so. Besides, I appreciate people who have backbone. They make for a far more reliable cadre, wouldn't you agree?” She giggled at him following her question, as if she were a simple five year old once more. She may as well be, not many people in the world have the courage to actively insult someone so boldly, let alone someone who can end their existence in this world.

”Let me tell you something, and let me remind you that life isn't fair. We exist on this world to grow old, get sick, die. We exist so we can watch others die,” she so callously explained further in detail her comment from earlier. ”There is a simple reason why I accept my fate, no matter how much I would so adore a different life. I was born like this, do you understand?” Christiane-Gael didn't expect an answer, nor did she expect comprehension. So she continued, ”This is how I was born, this is how I was raised. I see no other life than one already laid before me. Is this what it was like for you when you were being raised to become a consummate butler, Michael? Everything you did, everything you learned for a singular purpose you don't understand, and feared a bit as well.”

He seems to be the perfect butler, a butler she could easily defeat should she find reason. ”If you'd care, I'd like to relate a little tale,” a warning to a tale she said more as a question, but a warning nonetheless. ”I won't punish you for doing as I asked. I'm impressed actually. So, as a reward, I shall relate to you a relatively short story. Believe it or not, the lady in front of you used to be a happy, loving child. It's true, as surprising as it may be to you considering our short time together. But, life is not fair. The happy times ended when two people decided their own personal honor or secrets were more important than their own lives.” Sighing deeply to rest her breath before continuing, ”And because said little girl was born from the union of a villainess and an unknown, said little girl was ostracized. Eventually, she left her cathedral only to be taken in by members of her mother's own chapel. From there, little girl would grow up and learn all the things her mother had learned. But it wasn't enough, she had to join a dark guild to grow strong enough to be called mistress of the Chapel, just as her mother was...”

Ending her tale abruptly, she turned to look at him from an angle of weakness, one she isn't used to, ”So Michael, tell me. What do you think? And more importantly, can you be trusted to relay this story to no one else?” She questioned him, looking intently into his eyes, but also paying attention to anything else that could indicate falsehood.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Tue Oct 02, 2012 8:45 pm

Michael’s gaze followed his mistress as she laid back on her bed, his gaze slipping over her pale flesh quickly to come to rest on her face once again. He didn’t speak when she asked him what took so long, he had the feeling it was a question that was not expected to be answered. When she gave him the order to stop bowing he obliged without question, his head raising as he looked down at her while she continued speaking. “As you say mistress.” He replied to her statement of back bone making someone more reliable, and it was true in most cases. However as she giggled he blinked faintly in surprise at the childish act as he continued looking down at her, waiting to see if he would be enlightened as to her good mood.

He wasn’t enlightened, however her mood seemed to go down or at least her callous nature come out as she resumed an old topic. His blind guess about her past however seemed to be spot on as she revealed more to him, leaving him with his mouth shut and ears open as he patiently listened to her. She guessed the same about him and hit it right on the mark as her speech grew longer, every second her tale continued while he remained the silent observer. Absorbing the information she carelessly gave him on the first day of meeting and storing it away in his mind as time ticked on and the candles illuminated the room ever so dimly.

Realizing that this was a test he smiled politely at her and slipped off of the bed, his back turned to her as he took two steps forward and turned around. Crouching down he placed his left knee on the ground while his right foot was extended out, his right arm resting on his right knee while his left fist was gently placed on the ground before him. He kneeled like a knight with his head bowed low, his raven black hair hanging down his face to hide his gaze as he stared at the cold floor. It was a gesture used to surrender one’s self before another, to place themselves entirely in the other’s hands and show their loyalty. They couldn’t see anything the one before them was doing, they could strike them down at any time and it would be acceptable.

“When one is forced into a position they do not wish to be in, those with the guiding hand are creating a double edged sword if they rise the unwilling into power. The pawn they may try to nurture and grow could turn against them once they have the strength to do so and cut their bonds with their past life. If you do not find me trustworthy, if you do not find me worthy of serving you than all you must do is land the killing blow here and now. I am only useful to the guild for my services, not my strength. In their eyes you are more important than me, and my death shall be accepted for the master knows of my personality.” He said calmly and without hesitation in his voice, his entire body language was at perfect ease as he kneeled defenselessly before her. Waiting patiently for her answer, for the pain of death to descend upon him or the sound of her voice to grant him life.
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Wed Oct 03, 2012 12:58 am

Even though she had done all this willingly, willingly laid on her back, secured her own hands between her mattress and her head, look up at a person instead of down at him, she felt a tinge of regret. She was showing someone weakness, and a handsome man at that too. She couldn't trust him fully, she shouldn't trust him fully. But, he has proven his resourceful, and his endurance several times this day. He would prove useful, if for nothing more than someone besides her Exceed to advise her, to keep her company during those long days outside. ”Hahahaha, Michael, cat got your tongue?” She asked him while masking her growing anxiety, ”If you do not feel comfortable answering, you can just say. In all honesty, I realize what kind of loaded question it is for a single man to answer in a span of no more than three minutes,” yet as she sat straight up, on her bed, once more, so too did Michael leave the mattress for an unknown purpose.

Highly bemused by his sudden shift in attitude from that of a audacious servant to that of a virtuous, she clasped her hands together and bent at the back, intent on listening clearly. Releasing a restrained laugh, it eventually became a wholehearted one after she had made sense of his words clearly in her mind. Walking over to him with little haste, she gladly tapped both his shoulders, and rolled his head up. ”Do not be Michael, you are too talented to just throw away because I don't trust you completely. Come now Michael, up up,” urging him onto his feet with oddly kind words, and upward waving motions of her hands, she led him back to her mattress. He is no ordinary man, contrary to his station in life.

”So, what is this about a pawn turning against its master once it gains enough strength?” Coyly she asked, already knowing the answer to the question, ”Are you suggesting that I break from the chains of my chapel one day? To eliminate those who would demand my servitude to an organization I was born into?” While she still distrusted him immensely, she found his usefulness more than made up for that unfortunate fact. To that end, she placed both her hands on his, pulling him closer towards her as a sign of her false growing faith in his character. ”How do you suggest I do that? These people have more or less run my life for over a decade, just as they ran my mothers. Though I am more powerfully magically, they are more powerful in terms of total capital. I am no match for them head on,” her cold hands knowingly moved his around, slapping his forearm softly from time to time when she wished to emphasize a point.

Having pulled in so close, she found his eyes uninteresting actually. A fact she made note of even as she spoke. Even if she acquired them through some means, she would only find out what she already knows. For the shade, she would need his ancestry, a fact Michael has no idea of. A pity, but unimportant. She can see it now, his worth is not in the realm of the physical. ”Michael, you will be my confidant from now on, understand? I give you permission for you to be this close to me,” she added after remembering his need to be respectful to his betters. A need she finds unnecessary, but a need she should satisfy all the time.

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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Wed Oct 03, 2012 1:57 am

Michael listened to the restrained laughter as it slowly grew… brighter. That was the only word he had for it as he continued looking down at the cold floor while listening her laughter fill his ears, for a brief moment it felt nice before the moment was gone and he felt the tapping on both his shoulders. It seemed like he wouldn’t be silenced permanently at least if something he said had made her laugh in such a way. As he felt her cool hand gently up his chin and lift his head up he peered up at her through a veil of black hair, his crimson gaze looking up at her while she spoke far more kindly to him than she had all day. Following her urging motions he slowly rose to his feet while brushing the dirt off of his leggings before looking up at her and slowly being led back to the bed, taking his seat beside her as she silently instructed.

As she spoke about what he had said earlier while he had kneeled, as she asked questions she already knew the answer to he smiled faintly, a ghost of a smile so small it could be easily played off as a trick of the shadows streaming across his beautiful face by the candle light. The coolness of her hands wrapped around his own warm ones as he was pulled ever closer towards her, the close contact and the fact that she played with his hands was something he had never expected from a mistress. It seemed… odd to him, out of place as he allowed his body to be controlled and manipulated as she saw fit. “ “Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.” A great military general once spoke those words, one whose advice is never to be underestimated my lady. You have the advantage of knowing your enemy while yours do not know what they could be facing, strike when you are unseen and where they shall least expect it. Use the guild to your advantage and the connects you make within it, cause division within them and turn the chapel against itself. Your options for breaking free are unlimited, you only have to open your mind and prepare properly beforehand.” He replied smoothly with that ghost of a smile on his face as his hands continued to be held by his mistress.

With them so close now his ruby eyes continued looking down into her own amber gaze while she spoke to him, gave him permission to be so close to her while making him her Confidant even after her admitting her distrust of him. “I understand Mistress LaChapelle, I shall assist you in any way and listen to your thoughts whenever you deem me worthy of them. If you desire I can prepare dinner suitable to your tastes, you have not eaten the entire time we have been together and you must keep your strength up. I shall prepare any dish you desire of me, no matter the ingredients that are required for it along with any wine or beverage you wish.” He replied with that ever polite smile of his while standing up, his hands still held loosely by his mistress as he gazed down at her awaiting any order she had for him. It was growing too late to continue such talks, more so when they were within a building known and occupied by her chapel he presumed. It was best if he could fill her stomach and give her a good nights rest in case she had anything else she wanted to have him do in the morning.
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PostSubject: Re: Sermons Amidst Sorrow [Private]   Wed Oct 03, 2012 11:39 pm

She found his analysis overly simple, but wholly correct. They had raised her for so long it's likely they feel overly confident she would be willing to obey them for the rest of her undying days. They would never expect sweet little Christiane-Gael to turn against them so suddenly even after a decade of debt she owes them. Following along, she repeated and added on, ”Subtle to the point of formlessness? Let them believe that what isn't there. Mysterious to the point of soundlessness. Keep my movements hidden. Am I correct, Michael?” She asked him, returning his faintly smile with a natural, bright one of her own. ”But let me ask you this, would it not be better for them to know exactly what I'm going to do? For them to know my next move, and my next move after that? I can't very well engender the spitting image of a perfect mistress long enough if my movements are hidden. And though I would like to leave them, immediately, there is a small piece of business I must take care of once I have reached a sufficient level of strength,” Christiane-Gael relayed her thoughts to him, intrigued as to his thoughts.

He is growing in utility with every passing second. One small piece of pity, he is a butler of Tartaros, not her own personal servant. An unfortunate fact, but not an outright deal breaker. The risk/reward analysis she has done of him has proven him an asset she must keep. Yet, she has allowed him this uncomfortably close, her stomach churned from the proximity. Yet, she has touched his hand as if he were a close friend, a close friend he is not. What more must she do to ensure to his eternal loyalty? ”Thank you, Michael, that is awfully dear of you,” an abrupt response, but one she took a gamble on. Christiane-Gael believed he would feel more attached to her if she made him feel more at home with her, like family. Measuring the pros and cons, she found the cons miniscule enough to begin the plan immediately.

Releasing his hands, she purposely sent a message that he could do come and go as her wishes. Preferably stay, his value comes from staying, not leaving. ”Do you know how to make crepes, Michael?” Christiane-Gael laid stretched out on her bed while she uninterestedly asked for a strange recipe in this hour of night. It was a simple recipe, and depending on how much he made, it could easily feed them both. In fact, ”Make enough for both of us, Michael. And perform your butler magic and pull out powdered sugar and anything else you can think of. You are quite resourceful, I'm sure you will think of something,” she quickly added in before playfully shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

So now Christiane-Gael has her Exceed, Nanine, and hopefully this butler to hear their thoughts on important matters when she needs to. A pity she has sent Nanine away to keep watch on her Enfant Perdu outfit. If not for that sad, but necessary, fact, she could properly introduce the two. ”Michael, I extend a few more privilege if you don't mind,” she began to declare with confidence borne from her own falsehood, ”Dine with me, sit with me, walk with me. Just a few more 'privileges' for being my confidant in this unhappy matter of mine.” She wanted to shiver from the inside out, to empty her insides from treating one man as if he mattered so much. He is important to her cause, she has to endure. No matter what.

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