The Comfort of Thy Enemy - Revision history

Taimdala at 17:06, 7 June 2011

2011-06-07T17:06:05Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:06, 7 June 2011
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	<span style="color:#8B0000">'''''And the battle is on. WARNING: Solid R rating--- Maer.'''''</span> <br> <br>		<span style="color:#8B0000">'''''And the battle is on. WARNING: Solid R rating--- Maer.'''''</span> <br> <br>

	''~~Thursday~~, February ~~13th,~~ 1868''<br>		''Friday, February 14th 1868''<br>
	Odyssey, ''Trieste Harbor''<br>		Odyssey, ''Trieste Harbor''<br>
	''Trieste, Austria-Hungary''<br>		''Trieste, Austria-Hungary''<br>

Taimdala at 08:49, 6 June 2011

2011-06-06T08:49:06Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 08:49, 6 June 2011
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	The sun was nothing but a memory on the horizon when Josephine reached the harbor. In the west, the sky glowed a stubborn cobalt to mark the day’s passing. Overhead the stars winked on one by one, and all around her were the sounds of the city coming to life with the night. Trieste was blessed with mild winter weather—mild as measured by the harsher English climate, at any rate—but it was February and true spring was still more than a month away. The breeze off the water was chill and Josephine was grateful for the thick sweater and leather greatcoat and hat she wore. It would protect her from the cold. For protection against criminal elements, she wore her knives and sword. Her jodhpurs and boots would lend her the freedom to run should her weapons prove insufficient to the task. Her gun she gave to Evie in her hotel room. If Josephine blundered so badly as to need it against Kalashnikov, it would be bad enough to render her keeping it moot. <br><br>		The sun was nothing but a memory on the horizon when Josephine reached the harbor. In the west, the sky glowed a stubborn cobalt to mark the day’s passing. Overhead the stars winked on one by one, and all around her were the sounds of the city coming to life with the night. Trieste was blessed with mild winter weather—mild as measured by the harsher English climate, at any rate—but it was February and true spring was still more than a month away. The breeze off the water was chill and Josephine was grateful for the thick sweater and leather greatcoat and hat she wore. It would protect her from the cold. For protection against criminal elements, she wore her knives and sword. Her jodhpurs and boots would lend her the freedom to run should her weapons prove insufficient to the task. Her gun she gave to Evie in her hotel room. If Josephine blundered so badly as to need it against Kalashnikov, it would be bad enough to render her keeping it moot. <br><br>

	To ensure that it didn’t happen, Josephine found a spot on the way to complete her mental exercises against Kalashnikov’s sensate ability. As she methodically went through them she put it up her hair in the Dutch braid she preferred for battle, her fingers nimbly plaiting it without need for a mirror. When she reached the end of the braid and tied it off with a velvet ribbon from her pocket, her mental preparation was done. She was Josephine, a retired circus performer and an outcast, a lost soul in need of solace. She’d put aside her duty to the Crown to grab a bit of peace for herself in Kalashnikov’s arms and devil take hindmost the rest. But it wouldn’t do to seem too eager or desperate. Kalashnikov was accustomed to her spit and vinegar and honey from her now would ruin the illusion. So there would be need, yes, but there would also be her native caution. She indulged herself with the thought of Evie shadowing her somewhere in the dark and resolutely shut that thought away and buried it deep where Kalashnikov wouldn’t find it. <br><br>		To ensure that it didn’t happen, Josephine found a spot on the way to complete her mental exercises against Kalashnikov’s sensate ability. As she methodically went through them she put up her hair in the Dutch braid she preferred for battle, her fingers nimbly plaiting it without need for a mirror. When she reached the end of the braid and tied it off with a velvet ribbon from her pocket, her mental preparation was done. She was Josephine, a retired circus performer and an outcast, a lost soul in need of solace. She’d put aside her duty to the Crown to grab a bit of peace for herself in Kalashnikov’s arms and devil take hindmost the rest. But it wouldn’t do to seem too eager or desperate. Kalashnikov was accustomed to her spit and vinegar and honey from her now would ruin the illusion. So there would be need, yes, but there would also be her native caution. She indulged herself with the thought of Evie shadowing her somewhere in the dark and resolutely shut that thought away and buried it deep where Kalashnikov wouldn’t find it. <br><br>

	''Enough, Jo. Places, everyone. Curtain in five''.<br><br>		''Enough, Jo. Places, everyone. Curtain in five''.<br><br>

Taimdala at 06:42, 5 June 2011

2011-06-05T06:42:49Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 06:42, 5 June 2011
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	''You have been hurt, and lack trust'', he thought, willing his imaginings into her head. ''I would protect you if only you would let me''.<br><br>		''You have been hurt, and lack trust'', he thought, willing his imaginings into her head. ''I would protect you if only you would let me''.<br><br>

	As the eldritch light faded he swept her up in his arms, cradling her as he carried her to the stairs leading to the ostentatious rooms below. The chill of the night air turned his skin to gooseflesh, but the touch of her hands around his neck and her cheek on his shoulder ~~against~~ flushed with heat. <br><br>		As the eldritch light faded he swept her up in his arms, cradling her as he carried her to the stairs leading to the ostentatious rooms below. The chill of the night air turned his skin to gooseflesh, but the touch of her hands around his neck and her cheek on his shoulder flushed with heat. <br><br>

	The doors below remained propped open, as he’d left them, making entry into the stateroom effortless. The air was heavy with the smell of incense; myrrh and sandalwood smoke wafted to the ceiling. The ceiling was covered by a tapestry secured at the four corners, which depicted Psyche and Eros joined in the act of love, too explicit to be tasteful, but a fine example of the weaver’s art. On either side of the door stood large armoires filled with clothes and finery. Along the left was a simple wooden chest containing Alexi’s work clothes, and a small writing desk. Along the right wall was a small bookshelf decorated with what he had been informed were the essential classics of British literature for his study, and a sword stand with an elaborate court epee and a much more workman like cavalry sabre. From the ceiling depended four oil lamps, ruby red glass panels coloring the light a sanguine tone he hoped showed off his hair appealingly when he first had them installed. The center and far wall of the room were dominated by the large bed of bundled wool covered by a mattress of eiderdown, draped in satin sheets in dark blue covered with the white silk comforter decorated with his family crest. The crest was a shield, bordered in sky blue, a white field, a fox head sinister. Embroidered in Cyrillic was his family motto: ''The clever may catch the earliest bird''. Умное может поймать самую раннюю птицу<br><br>		The doors below remained propped open, as he’d left them, making entry into the stateroom effortless. The air was heavy with the smell of incense; myrrh and sandalwood smoke wafted to the ceiling. The ceiling was covered by a tapestry secured at the four corners, which depicted Psyche and Eros joined in the act of love, too explicit to be tasteful, but a fine example of the weaver’s art. On either side of the door stood large armoires filled with clothes and finery. Along the left was a simple wooden chest containing Alexi’s work clothes, and a small writing desk. Along the right wall was a small bookshelf decorated with what he had been informed were the essential classics of British literature for his study, and a sword stand with an elaborate court epee and a much more workman like cavalry sabre. From the ceiling depended four oil lamps, ruby red glass panels coloring the light a sanguine tone he hoped showed off his hair appealingly when he first had them installed. The center and far wall of the room were dominated by the large bed of bundled wool covered by a mattress of eiderdown, draped in satin sheets in dark blue covered with the white silk comforter decorated with his family crest. The crest was a shield, bordered in sky blue, a white field, a fox head sinister. Embroidered in Cyrillic was his family motto: ''The clever may catch the earliest bird''. Умное может поймать самую раннюю птицу<br><br>

Taimdala at 06:42, 5 June 2011

2011-06-05T06:42:17Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 06:42, 5 June 2011
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	''You think of Evie'', he thought. ''My thoughts of you are not different. What I wish to DO differs greatly, but as you wish to create possibilities for Evie equal to her suffering, so I wish to give to you''.<br><br>		''You think of Evie'', he thought. ''My thoughts of you are not different. What I wish to DO differs greatly, but as you wish to create possibilities for Evie equal to her suffering, so I wish to give to you''.<br><br>

	''You have been hurt, and lack trust, he thought, willing his imaginings into her head. I would protect you if only you would let me''.<br><br>		''You have been hurt, and lack trust'', he thought, willing his imaginings into her head. ''I would protect you if only you would let me''.<br><br>

	As the eldritch light faded he swept her up in his arms, cradling her as he carried her to the stairs leading to the ostentatious rooms below. The chill of the night air turned his skin to gooseflesh, but the touch of her hands around his neck and her cheek on his shoulder against flushed with heat. <br><br>		As the eldritch light faded he swept her up in his arms, cradling her as he carried her to the stairs leading to the ostentatious rooms below. The chill of the night air turned his skin to gooseflesh, but the touch of her hands around his neck and her cheek on his shoulder against flushed with heat. <br><br>

Taimdala at 06:33, 5 June 2011

2011-06-05T06:33:13Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 06:33, 5 June 2011
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	''Evening''<br><br>		''Evening''<br><br>

	The sun was nothing but a memory on the horizon when Josephine reached the harbor. In the west, the sky glowed a stubborn cobalt to mark the day’s passing. Overhead the stars winked on one by one, and all around her were the sounds of the city coming to life with the night. Trieste was blessed with mild winter weather—mild as measured by the harsher English ~~climes~~, at any rate—but it was February and true spring was still more than a month away. The breeze off the water was chill and Josephine was grateful for the thick sweater and leather greatcoat and hat she wore. It would protect her from the cold. For protection against criminal elements, she wore her knives and sword. Her jodhpurs and boots would lend her the freedom to run should her weapons prove insufficient to the task. Her gun she gave to Evie in her hotel room. If Josephine blundered so badly as to need it against Kalashnikov, it would be bad enough to render her keeping it moot. <br><br>		The sun was nothing but a memory on the horizon when Josephine reached the harbor. In the west, the sky glowed a stubborn cobalt to mark the day’s passing. Overhead the stars winked on one by one, and all around her were the sounds of the city coming to life with the night. Trieste was blessed with mild winter weather—mild as measured by the harsher English climate, at any rate—but it was February and true spring was still more than a month away. The breeze off the water was chill and Josephine was grateful for the thick sweater and leather greatcoat and hat she wore. It would protect her from the cold. For protection against criminal elements, she wore her knives and sword. Her jodhpurs and boots would lend her the freedom to run should her weapons prove insufficient to the task. Her gun she gave to Evie in her hotel room. If Josephine blundered so badly as to need it against Kalashnikov, it would be bad enough to render her keeping it moot. <br><br>

	To ensure that it didn’t happen, Josephine found a spot on the way to complete her mental exercises against Kalashnikov’s sensate ability. As she methodically went through them she put it up her hair in the Dutch braid she preferred for battle, her fingers nimbly plaiting it without need for a mirror. When she reached the end of the braid and tied it off with a velvet ribbon from her pocket, her mental preparation was done. She was Josephine, a retired circus performer and an outcast, a lost soul in need of solace. She’d put aside her duty to the Crown to grab a bit of peace for herself in Kalashnikov’s arms and devil take hindmost the rest. But it wouldn’t do to seem too eager or desperate. Kalashnikov was accustomed to her spit and vinegar and honey from her now would ruin the illusion. So there would be need, yes, but there would also be her native caution. She indulged herself with the thought of Evie shadowing her somewhere in the dark and resolutely shut that thought away and buried it deep where Kalashnikov wouldn’t find it. <br><br>		To ensure that it didn’t happen, Josephine found a spot on the way to complete her mental exercises against Kalashnikov’s sensate ability. As she methodically went through them she put it up her hair in the Dutch braid she preferred for battle, her fingers nimbly plaiting it without need for a mirror. When she reached the end of the braid and tied it off with a velvet ribbon from her pocket, her mental preparation was done. She was Josephine, a retired circus performer and an outcast, a lost soul in need of solace. She’d put aside her duty to the Crown to grab a bit of peace for herself in Kalashnikov’s arms and devil take hindmost the rest. But it wouldn’t do to seem too eager or desperate. Kalashnikov was accustomed to her spit and vinegar and honey from her now would ruin the illusion. So there would be need, yes, but there would also be her native caution. She indulged herself with the thought of Evie shadowing her somewhere in the dark and resolutely shut that thought away and buried it deep where Kalashnikov wouldn’t find it. <br><br>

Taimdala at 06:32, 5 June 2011

2011-06-05T06:32:01Z

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2011-06-04T19:20:34Z

Created page with ' '''''You are reading an RP entry. Since any campaign is a collaborative effort, Journal and RP entries by our other players can be read''''' …'

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