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Eta scanned the streets from under her hood, feigning with her hands at the cup in front of her, the long black cloak covering her entire body, her own back hunched an bony against the cold stone wall behind her.
She produced a hacking cough from deep in her throat, letting in rack in her body.
"Penny...for the poor...anyone...spare a penny?"
She looked up against, eyes darting under their lids. He hadn't come yet. When was Christoph going to get here? She did have a job offer after all..had he received her message?

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otherwise known as the one who left PPT...and now lurks. *evil laughter*

*Maarl rode up the wide, cobbled streets to his towering manor, his two black horses with golden manes champing at their bits as they raced there. "Woaah!" he called to them, stopping outside a tailor's shop, in front of which a cloaked woman stood. Ignoring her pleas for coins, he stepped inside, requesting a mask of white and gold cloth, the special kind that indeed the mask he wore was made of, in the shape of a the front of a wolf's face.*

Sheridan nodded to show she accepted his request. "Be back around midday to pick it up, it should be finished by then." she said to Maarl. Scrawling down what he wanted to make, she turned to another customer to help them, while wondering when she'd be able to finish her masque for the ball tonight.

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Walking out the door something clicked in Christophs white haired head, 'I almost forgot my sword...though...will I need it yet?' He ducked back into his chambers and stood on a pointy fragment of this mornings offending tile, "Curses! Garic annoys me even when he is not here!".

The Rapier was sitting in the carved box that had been passed down though his family for generations, though he was not quite sure of the reliability of that informaiton as his parents had both been missing since he was a child. Lifting it out he balanced it on his finger where the hilt me the thin blade, "What would I do if I damaged you?" he whispered to himself. With the money he made from odd-jobs whilst waiting for a real assignment from the boss he just couldn't afford any luxuries. The gilded cape he was wearing had cost him more than he could afford, but it was a neccesity if he wanted to look the part for the ball.

An hour later Christoph had wandered out of the training guild attracting many "oohs", "aahs", and even "The ball ain't fo anozah five hours youngan!"

Catching himself in a shop window he felt a little Narcasistic, 'I do look a most excelent gentleman' he thought. Looking through the window he saw it was the same store he had gotten the cape, all kinds of expensive clothing was there, as well as props and masks...'Good gods...I've forgotten the mask!'

[Sheridans shop it be]

((I think that will be the best. Since we start over from the beginning and the circumstances under which we met where situated much later. I still loved those scenes, though. ))


((Merle is still a priest now. ))

The streets were buzzing with talks about the upcoming events. A masked ball! Why did the king organised this? Some were convinced that it was to seek a bride. Mostly the younger and somewhat older ladies. After all, the king was of age to take a wife.

A black haired young man, dressed in a black robed outfit, walked through the crowd. Hearing all with meager interest. He didn't truely believe was out for a bride.. at least, he hoped so. 'Poor girl.'

He was advancing to Sheridans shop, when he noticed Maarls carriage. Merle stopped. His eyes narrowed. 'I'll have to wait...'

He smiled. Sheridan seemed to have much customers now. Merle side-stepped into a quiet corner.

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Set by WIS!

"Come on, Donkey," Jane whispered to her ride, petting its sides. "We're nearly there."

Riding down the cobblestone streets of the town, young Miss Porter wondered at the thriving, bustling life that took place all around her. Vendors calling out their wares, street urchins playing pranks, children running around, adults doing their shopping with mothers clucking after their offspring... It was so different here compared to the countryside.

She reflected shortly upon her father. He was thick in the middle of his research when she'd left, which, Jane decided, was far better than experimenting. At least research didn't blow holes in the middle of the roof. She grimaced slightly, remembering how many weeks it had taken her to re-thatch that part, not to mention the wet and muddy consequences during the rainy season.

Feeling slightly guilty, she had asked him constantly if he would be alright. He was just so absent-minded that Jane was afraid to leave him for three days all alone. Alone! He was getting old, was her father, and she fretted over him like a mother over a sickly child (although he was in eccentric, good health). Or perhaps she fretted over the house and its property too. It was just so dangerous with her father around - alone.

All the same, Jane thought, seating herself more comfortably in the saddle and pushing the sides of old Donkey a little. She had not been into town for a visit since two years ago. Jane went regularly for market days, but this was different. This was a proper visit with a proper purpose: to stay with Sheridan and attend the masquerade ball.

A shiver of excitement and delight coursed its way through Jane's bones. A proper ball! She'd never been to a ball. Hopefully it would be just as she had always dreamed, or better! She'd better have the time of her life to make up for leaving home so long.

She grinned and leapt down lightly from the old donkey outside of Sheridan's shop. Her face fell slightly when she saw the assembly of people, carriages and mounts in front. She would have to wait.

What good business, the girl thought.

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Spike meandered the streets casually, his falconer's glove on, but with no goshawk to be seen. He didn't care for begging like most of the poor did, knowing that he wouldn't get anything, a fact which frequently seemed to elude those in poverty. His bound feet made little noise as he cautiously went over the cobbles, careful not to hurt himself on a jutting stone. The sun was blistering, leaving everyone, even the nobles in almost unbearable heat. The ball was coming soon, and the streets showed it, they usually were crowded when some rich bloke had some sort of gathering for other rich people and before you knew it the streets were crowded with people bearing handfans of all shapes and sizes. He found a stone wall to sit and lean against, watching those who passed curiously.

*Dernan kicked a loose stone, making his way to nowhere in particular, at least until the ball began... the small teenager already posessed a mask... Dernan's attention was caught by Maarl's coach, with the maked one in front also... this would be it... Dernan selected a special dagger, and made to leap up onto the coach as it stopped to let him pass...*

*Maarl drove his horses back to his manor, and considered stopping them as a boy was in his way... yet seeing him reach for something in his jacket, he reconsidered and reined them into a gallop.*

*Dernan leapt aside of the trampling hooves, shocked, yet the wide wheels were too fast... he fell under one, two, and lay on the street with a bloodied jacket.*

Merle sighed deeply. Shifting uneasily. 'He still got the attitude,' Merle thought with a twisted a smile. His robe lay lump around his body. It was a hot day and the sun shone mercilessly on his black colored clothing.

He noticed two others he knew from the whereabouts, Jane, the gods knew what for a disaster her father caused now and Spike, who was also leaning against a wall now.

'I have been around here way too long,' he thought with a sudden sad inburst. 'I start to know them. Is it fair what I am about to do? To them?'

A horse neighed and he heard the crowd shouting. Merle turned his attention back to the shop, noticing Maarl had left.

'Great,' he thought, 'not only can you see he has left, you can also hear it.' Silently he hoped the panic that had erupted wasn't caused by Maarl, but he knew it probably was.

Should he go and look? Maarl may recognise him. If he was still there.

After doubting a few moments, he began to step through the crowd, in the direction of the noise.

((Edited, since I hadn't read Eo's post yet, since she posted at the same time as me.))

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Set by WIS!

Donkey jolted back violently from the coach that thundered past. Jane caught at his head, trying to calm him. He was visibly agitated when she brought him to a still. Soothing him with gentle words, Jane led him further towards the shop away from the streets.

There was a crowd where she had been standing. She wondered what it was for but was not particularly interested. Jane had not been in town long enough to understand what Maarl meant to the general population. Instead, she headed into the now emptier shop to greet Sheridan.

It was a clean, spick-and-span shop, not overly large but not tiny either. Sheridan looked prettier than ever, standing behind her counter. "Sheridan!" Jane called out with a smile on her face.

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Jane could not help but pull a face behind the man's back. Another customer. She was supposed to be happy for Sheridan, but she didn't know if she would ever get to talk to her properly if people kept streaming in and out.

She made hand signals that she would be going outside for a while and left the shop.

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The atmosphere inside of the shop was tense, he hadn't noticed how many people were inside until he had taken that second look. 'I hope Sheridan has some time for me today' thought Christoph as he pryed his eyes from the expensive clothes in the window.

Spinning around to head to the shop door there were numerous suspicious looking folk all watching each other, a gloved man leaning up against the wall, two black robed people, a young girl riding a donkey, a the hustle and bustle of perhpas a hundred shop keepers and workers. 'I'm sure one of those black robes is watching me...'

From the thundering wheels and the swearing of the workers it sounded as though a coach would be roaring through at any moment. Christophs prediction was proved true as the Duke Himself in his coach hurtled down through the streets, neglecting to stop for people in its way. A child beggar leapt out at the coach brandishing a dagger, then falling under the wheels of the coach as it left. The child lay in the middle of the street with people stepping over him spouting comments about how pathetic he looked. Christoph himself did not having anything for or against Maarl himself and believed that the cut-purse beggar deserved what he got.

Even so the child would be killed by trampling if he was just left there in the middle of the street, it was his duty to help everyone as he was supposed to become part of the guard one day in the future. Walking to the center of the street Christoph took of his expensive cape and crammed it into his shopping sack, 'even if I'm going to let my conscience help this dreg of society theres no point getting dirty in the process'. He dragged the bloodied child into the park by the side of the street. "You'll probably survive here, its more than a cut-purse deserves."

With that Christoph went back to his task of getting a mask for the ball, but his deed had cost him another dozen place in the line at Sheridans shop as customers just kept on pouring in.

*Maarl reined in his horses and strode smugly out of the entrance hall, his shined boots clicking on the marble floor. Climbing the elegantly curved staircase, he began to strip off his dark leather gloves, and entering the tall door to his bedroom, flung himself into a chair, satisfied with his actions for the morning. No remorse could find him, not behind his mask or his cold heart.*

[[Alright, just going to remind everyone- Eo and Dernan are the same person, Eo is just a sort of method actress- when I call Eo Dernan, she's trying to think as a young, orphaned peasant boy would going to a grand masquerade ball, and when I call Eo Eo, as I am about to, she's in too much blinding pain to even think about the disguise. Erm... that reminds me of that one comment on the COE gallery... pity they got rid of those pictures... am I rambling or what?]]

*Eo lay on the grass in the park across the street from the bustling shop, gasping like a fish on the dock. A deep burning sensation gave her the idea some ribs might be broken, and a large almost welt-like wound covered also her head, from the thin coach wheels. Trying to stand, or crawl, or even remember how this had happened, Eo felt a seizing feeling in her ribs, preventing her from moving vertically.*