ABRAXAS MODS (
abraxasmods) wrote in
abraxaslogs2021-08-28 09:47 pm
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WELCOME TO NOTT!
WELCOME TO NOTT!
Welcome to Nott! A blend of old world Thorne and new world industrialism, densely packed wooden buildings surround a section of ancient stone architecture at the lake’s edge. The city rises up against the horizon and is easily seen from a distance, lacking any farmland or outposts around it to distract the eye.
The city gates are wide open. Whatever may be happening back at the Thornean capitol, there’s no obvious hint of it here. Busy citizens are going about their day, guards in local uniform patrol the streets with little urgency, and no alarm bells or horns are sounding. It appears,at least on the surface, as though no one is concerned about escaped prisoners here.
But it certainly is a bustling place! Sounds and smells assault the senses right from the gate. The streets are filled with vendors and panhandlers and criers shouting out deals and directions and soliciting money, hawking food and services and shops. There seems to be a tavern or a public house on almost every corner. A cool wind comes off the lake and the scent of the fish market carries through the city. People are everywhere and no one seems to notice or care that much about strangers - aside from wanting their coin.
It’s the perfect place to hide out from Thorne while staying within Thorne’s borders.
Within a few hours of arrival a city guard will approach each escapee from Thorne - regardless of what their standing was back at the castle - to politely inform them that Lord of Representatives Lyle Vela would be happy to receive them at the House of the Lords at any time today. Each character will be given a handwritten invitation marked with an official seal that gives directions to the House of the Lords, a sprawling Old Nott building on the lake that overlooks the city. The invitation is of course optional and there are no repercussions for declining.
The city gates are wide open. Whatever may be happening back at the Thornean capitol, there’s no obvious hint of it here. Busy citizens are going about their day, guards in local uniform patrol the streets with little urgency, and no alarm bells or horns are sounding. It appears,at least on the surface, as though no one is concerned about escaped prisoners here.
But it certainly is a bustling place! Sounds and smells assault the senses right from the gate. The streets are filled with vendors and panhandlers and criers shouting out deals and directions and soliciting money, hawking food and services and shops. There seems to be a tavern or a public house on almost every corner. A cool wind comes off the lake and the scent of the fish market carries through the city. People are everywhere and no one seems to notice or care that much about strangers - aside from wanting their coin.
It’s the perfect place to hide out from Thorne while staying within Thorne’s borders.
Within a few hours of arrival a city guard will approach each escapee from Thorne - regardless of what their standing was back at the castle - to politely inform them that Lord of Representatives Lyle Vela would be happy to receive them at the House of the Lords at any time today. Each character will be given a handwritten invitation marked with an official seal that gives directions to the House of the Lords, a sprawling Old Nott building on the lake that overlooks the city. The invitation is of course optional and there are no repercussions for declining.
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She blinks hard and shakes her head, forcing a laugh.
"Come on. Let's not be sad. We are free. And we are together, no?"
She takes another bite of her pie. "It could be worse. I were going to whore myself to Nero completely for this, the horrid imp. Now if only he cannot get to the Horizon, or I never go back and I shan't have to see him."
She strokes the silk skirts. "I might sell it, you know? It'd get us enough for a room if we all sleep in the same one for ages and ages."
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I'll kill him, she thinks, with a coldness that shocks her. If I meet the man, I'll put a bullet through his fucking head myself, for God and the Man Jesus know he'd deserve it more than poor Dave. The weight of the revolver concealed under her clothes is suddenly warm and present, a reminder that she could. She's killed before, and now she knows how to hold the gun properly, now she'd not panic and set spark to her own serape. A man like that wouldn't deserve better.
(It does occur to her that she only has one side of the story, and that Eponine hasn't exactly proven herself the most honest - or the most well-balanced - of people. It also occurs to her that, since this Nero isn't here, she doesn't have to care about that in the moment.)
"Don't sell it, not 'till we got no choice." She looses Eponine's hand, finally picks up her own pie and takes a bite. "I'll get work in a day or two, just 'ee watch. And between us all, it'll be plenty for rent and board. And pies." She manages a more genuine smile. "...We used to have these at the fairs in Seafront. Just the same. Eel pies and water from a pitcher. How'd ye know?"
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"Don't tell the others, will you? I'm going to give them some money I earned, but the rest is for us. Me and you, Susan. We shall make sure we have enough to eat first, and a place to lay our heads when we like, or if that Julie starts again. You'll be like Azelma, won't you? We are together in it, no matter what?"
For a minute, she says nothing, but with a sigh, she sticks one leg out from under her skirts and pulls off the oversized boot she'd nicked. From it, she pulls out a slightly soft chocolate bar done in paper.
"I were gonna keep it, but if we are together, I suppose..."
She looks at it doubtfully. "The shop lady said it was chocolate, but I dunno. I ain't never had chocolate before, but I always wanted a piece. She took a gold coin for it but I don't care. I feel rich today, and we celebrate escaping the prison, yes?"
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Not an itch. A sweetmeat. Susan blinks, and then, to her own surprise, she laughs. There's just something... not even comical, but charming, about hiding food in your shoes. Fill your boots, she thinks, and has to stifle another giggle, because she'd never actually thought of it in that way.
She wipes gravy off her chin, still smiling, and tilts her head curiously. "It don't look like chucklit," she says, after a moment. Her only real experience of chocolate has, after all, been in the cakes and desserts at the castle. If she's ever seen a bar of it before, she hasn't known it as such. "Looks more like..." And she trails off, because honestly, what does it look like? Nothing she's eaten, certainly. "Ye're sure you want to share?"
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It's all very black and white. Help one another and reap joint rewards. Let one suffer and you deserve to cry too.
Eponine snaps a square of the chocolate bar off and holds it out to Susan. Then she snaps another bit for herself.
"I'm scared it'll be horrid. All those nights dreaming, and imagine it is horrible?"
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"It ain't gonna be horrible," she says, firmly. It occurs to her that she's not just talking about the chocolate, when she makes that pronouncement - that command, really, because it's less of a prediction than it is a threat to the world to be goddamned fair for once. None of this is going to be horrible. She won't let it. She's thrown her lot in with this girl, with this city, and they're going to make it work. On her father's face, she promises it. "It'll be just like ye dreamed it. And if it ain't, somehow, I guess we'll just go find another dream."
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"It has that smell, don't it? Sweet and rich and that altogether. Like it should taste of - of cream or butter but sweeter."
Her fingers tremble as she lifts the chocolate to her nose to smell it. She's spent that long dreaming about this day that she can barely believe it's true. Even being able to go into the shop, with money in her pocket and a fine dress on her body had felt beyond amazing. She'd had to wait outside the shop just to still her heart, and once inside, she had, for once in her life, been so overwhelmed that she couldn't even ask for what she wanted. Instead, she'd nodded dumbly when the shopkeeper had pointed to his wares and had counted out her coins in that same stupor to pay for it.
" I almost don't want -"
But she does, suddenly and all at once. She crams the piece of chocolate into her mouth before she can change her mind.
And promptly, she bursts into tears.
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Because she's dreamed of it this long, Sue, and she's never had a thing of her own. The thought sounds achingly like her father's voice. So cut her some slack, won't you?
She sighs, and leans over to, a bit clumsily, put her arms around the smaller girl, patting her shoulder. "Hey. Hey, 'Ponine, don't cry. Hold up, I've got a kerchief somewhere, just wait..."
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She wipes her eyes furiously. Even through the tears, she can sense Susan's annoyance. Truth be told, she's half mad at herself too. How ridiculous to cry over chocolate. But it's so much more than chocolate. It's - it's freedom. It's that she's succeeded. It's that her life isn't in the gutter any more and she's sat in a beautiful gown sharing chocolate that she's paid for herself with a friend who seems to like her despite how worthless she is. It's that she's got a mother figure again, that she's been accepted by a group.
And it's that she's tasted chocolate.
Eponine takes a breath to calm herself and shakes her head.
"I'm sorry. That was stupid."
The chocolate's melting in her cheek. She sits silently, passively refusing any proffered handkerchiefs or sleeves, though she doesn't refuse Susan's hug. Having the freedom to unashamedly cry too is a new sensation, one that she won't give up.
"It's not how I thought it." That's stupid to say. Now Susan will think she's crying over the taste. She never says the right thing.
"
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She sighs, closing her eyes. Her own eyes are stinging a little, and she couldn't quite say why.
"It's too much, sometimes. Good and bad. I kennit."
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She thinks of her wrists, bruised from the manacles the guards had clamped on her. She thinks of that tiny little cell where, altogether, she's been shut away for a month by herself. She thinks of Paris, of being tethered to the gang, of the prison, of the ditch she favoured to sleep in.
"No one's ever hugged me before," she murmurs.
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"Well, I'm hugging 'ee now," she says briskly, after a moment, and hugs a little tighter. Eponine's so thin, she thinks. Bones like a bird's, shifting under her hand. Ye're soft, Sue, her aunt's voice sneers in her mind, but she can't bring herself to mind it. Soft's better than bitter. "And I ain't goin' anywhere, so if it's too much, just... just come to me, alright? I came here for 'ee. Might as well make use of it."
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Eponine struggles out of the hug so she can properly look at Susan.
“You came for me? I know we said it in prison, but it weren’t a true thing. If you had a better offer, why should you choose me? That’s a stupid thing to do, you know?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t tell me on it, please. Don’t say it’s so, Susan, for when you hate me for coming here, I shan’t be able to bear it. Please say it was for Nadine or Flagg. When I do it bad please don’t be mad.”
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Only that's why you did, ain't it? Because you knew she'd never had anyone play her honest before. You knew this is what she'd say, Sue, you always did. She's soft, mayhap, but she's not blind; and she'd made that promise for the same reason, for how Eponine had pushed her away when she'd first come down to the cells as a 'guest'. Anyone who's so keen not to be loved seems, to Susan, all the more in need of it.
So she shakes her own head in turn, her jaw set. "Sai Nadine's kind and all, but she'd be as well off without me as with me. And I don't ken sai Flagg but a bit." She knows more about him than she wants to, now, but she can't say that. "But you look at me, 'Ponine. I ain't going to hate 'ee for it. If I shouldn't've come, then what? I made the choice. Ye didn't. I came to be with 'ee, because we're friends, and it was a true thing for me, what I said. I meant it. I wanted to come with 'ee. So what'd I ever have to hate 'ee for?"
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It’s not self pitying. It’s resignation to her unpopularity.
“And truly Susan, I don’t want it to be you. But it will be, because that’s how it is. I’ll send you mad or angry and you’ll wish you’d chosen someone else. Someone better than me”
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And then she rebels against that thought, with a fury that overwhelms doubt. Fuck that. She isn't buying into this. She won't let Eponine sell herself so cheap, not like this. She grabs the other girl's bony shoulders, holding her eyes, and there's a sharp intensity in her look.
"Ye listen to me, Eponine. That ain't how this goes. I don't care how many times it's gone that way for 'ee before, that ain't how it goes now. I won't hate 'ee, no matter how angry I get. I don't hate easy." And that's true, she realises; it's why it comes so deep and so all-encompassing when she does hate someone. She gets angry, sure, gets to dislike folk, but hate? Hate's a strong thing, and one she's only ever saved for those who killed what she loved. "So ye quit that talk, alright? I'm your friend whether ye want it or no, and ye're stuck with me, so ye are. Aught else, we'll just... we'll take as it comes."
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Now that she's got one though, in Susan, she doesn't know what to do or what to say.
How are you a friend?
So Eponine just nods. She doesn't know what else to do
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