The Black Ship

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Post by Undead Cabbage »

Ah hah! Gotcha! Everyone has their limit. Yet even now she will hide her emotions well.

"Well then Mademoiselle, I am a fool to not have properly guessed."

His voice tones into a charming baritone. Jonathan steps back beside Gertrude, matching her step. "And believe it or not, I am somewhat of a religious scholar myself. Spiritualist, to be exact."

Jonathan takes out from his jacket pocket a talisman, showing it to Gertrude.

"Jonathan Midwinter's the name," his other hand goes to shake hers "spirits, souls, specters, and sinkholes are my medium. By the way, its good to see that you're not a bloody Lamordian; I really loathe explaining that such things trully do exist.

Aside from being a medium, my primary trade has and always will be information."
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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude smiled at Jonathan's response and calmer manner, then looked towards him questioningly as he mentioned that he was a religious scholar. Her brown eyes widened at the word ‘spiritualist’, and a jolt went down her spine as memories and emotions tumbled into her mind. She looked mutely at the silver eye, but pulled herself together when the medium offered his hand. She reached out her gloved hand and shook, recovering her poise by the time he’d finished his introduction.

“Professor Kingsley of the University of Paridon,” she replied. “And I quite understand your predicament with the Lamordians. They get very annoyed when they learn that my purpose is not to debunk other people’s beliefs and declare them fairy tales.”

It explains his daft behaviour earlier, she thought to herself. There were more than enough charlatans in the field, but the few she’d been introduced to as sincere were either highly religious or else wrecks who were busy drowning their impressions by dependence on other spirits. There was always the possibility that Midwinter was also a fraud, but she had no desire to personally test the theory.

“I must confess that your particular gift is met with mixed emotions back home. Our society is highly skeptical about omnipotent gods and the supernatural, but the Great Upheaval shook many people’s beliefs. Several spiritualists and many charlatans took the opportunity to visit Zherisia in the following years. It had quite a following for a while. The interest in spiritualisn has more or less disappeared again, but I believe a couple of mediums are still around there.” There was no challenge or skepticism in her tone; her field of studies had introduced her to many strange concepts and people.

The Black Ship was now coming into view, its large sign with a galleon painted black hanging over a well-lit doorway. A couple of burly men lounged outside, though not directly in front of the doors, lazily exchanging comments in their patois. One of them spared her a glance but she shook her head, and he turned back to his conversation. Her earlier desire to see Midwinter receive a thorough beating had disappeared.

She hesitated over her next move. Her own personal taboos on the subject had not inspired her to examine it too closely. But she was also curious, and disliked the idea that she was afraid of a topic; it was admitting a weakness, even if only in her own mind. There was a brief muddle of emotions once more as memories returned but she firmly pushed them aside. It’s been years, for heavens' sake...If you don't begin to deal with it now, when will you?

“I’m afraid that I’ve reached my destination, Mr. Midwinter. I would be interested in learning more about your vocation but I also wouldn’t want to presume upon your plans for the evening.” She looked inquiringly at the medium.
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Undead Cabbage »

Jonathan looks at the Black Ship. He points to it:

"You mean there is something in Souragne that isn't decrepit and tacky?

Mademoiselle Kingsley, under no circumstances are you presuming any other plans. You are creating them with your grace. Does this place have a good whiskey? I'm ready to shoot someone for a cold drink."

Jonathan shudders for a second. Blasted piss in a jar

"Naturally, you probably want some proof that I really can see the dead."

A big smile stretches across Jonathan's face; the type of smile that in no world could ever mean a good thing.

"Of course, if you'd like to see the dead yourself, I do believe I've kept some Wraithroot with me. But only if you've got the sand for it."

I really shouldn't be doing this. I'm a horrible, horrible person. It's people like me that deserve to burn in purgatory forever. Why on earth am I doing this. This isn't fair to this poor woman.

Ah what the hell, it'll be fun!
Last edited by Undead Cabbage on Sun Aug 27, 2006 7:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Pamela »

OOC: Psst, Gertrude was very careful not to give her first name to Jonathan. If it’s any consolation, she doesn’t offer it to anyone on first acquaintance. :P

Gertrude raised her eyebrows at the description of Souragne. “I believe that you haven’t had a chance to take a proper look around the city yet, Mr Midwinter.” "Proper" probably doesn’t describe any of the places you’ve frequented so far, I’m sure… “The Black Ship is the finest inn in Port d’Elhour, but also very hard to reserve due to limited accommodations. I am unsure about the quality of their hard liquors but I’m sure you should find the whiskey to your taste.”

They stepped inside, the interior gleaming and bright under Mme Dreyfuss meticulous’ care. Oil paintings of ships and beaches adorned the walls, as did a mounted swordfish. Seashells were on shelves, and nets hung in a couple of the corners. The banister of the staircase had been carved to look like a shiphead’s mermaid.

Gertrude raised her veil upon entry, and approached one of the few empty tables with her guest. She took off her white gloves and hat, laying them neatly on the empty chair beside her. She hesitated over Jonathan’s remark about proof, trying to figure out a politic refusal when he made his awful suggestion. “No thank you,” she said hastily, then apologized for her self-perceived rudeness. “I am sorry, Mr Midwinter, but I suppose I have not “got the sand” as you put it.”

She was glad when the serving girl came over, ordering only a glass of pineapple juice for herself. She wanted a clear head for this discussion, and also to make it quietly clear that this was not going to be a night on the town in case her guest still harboured any misguided fancies. She didn’t want to appear like a superstitious ninny but also had her native indisposition towards personal confidences. When the girl had left with Jonathan’s order, she turned to him. “I must confess to some apprehensions, which you have undoubtedly noticed. The matter of spiritualists arose in my household about ten years ago, and it is still an uneasy one. I hate the frauds because of their willingness to prey on another’s misfortune and desperate hopes. But I suppose I also fear the sincere, and what they might reveal about those I like to imagine happily pursuing a better life.” She worked as well as she could to keep her expression calm but her manner was decidedly subdued. “Neither attitude is of course conducive to objectivity, or answers,” she added wryly.
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Undead Cabbage »

OOC: Whoops, sorry Pam. Changed it :). I used the term 'Gibson Girl' pretty much because I'm sure Zherisia would likely have an equivalent.

"That's the thing about Divination," Jonathan says as he orders a cold....COLD whiskey from the waitress, putting emphasis on the cold part. "It doesn't lie, but it doesn't tell the truth either. And everything, even the most basic of functions, has a price to pay."

A scholar that lives by ignorance is bliss? Fornicating for virginity are we?

As Jonathan continues, he looks about the room as if he isn't paying attention to Gertrude. In spite of this, he speaks to her:

"Now, Madame Kingsley, here's what I don't get:

You haven't the sand to see a ghost, and yet you study here in Souragne, a realm of far more frightening things than the wee-spirits that bother to trail me here. Your field is religions, definately about ezra, and yet you get all rough-and-tumbled over the idea of spiritualists, and I sincerely doubt you just skipped the Mordent sect. I rescue your purse of coin, and you turn your nose. I make remarks that would have me slapped about normally, and you are entertained. You are a shinning example of one of those Zherisian Gibson-Girl types, and yet you walk alone at night, in this pile of heap none-the-less."

Jonathan's eyes then sharply home in on Gertrude.

"I guess in the end my question is: Are you a porcelain doll playing the iron maiden, or are you the iron maiden masking the porcelain doll?"

Jonathan's head tilts.
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Post by Pamela »

“Do you know, Mister Midwinter, I was wondering what you were doing here myself. But I suppose you’ve had yourself run out of every other country on the Core,” Gertrude replied tartly but still amused despite herself.

“If you expect me to explain myself, you will have a long wait,” she continued blithely, “But I will address your first and least impertinent observation. The field of religion is very broad; there are many aspects worthy of study. As it is, many scholars at the University of Paridon would dismiss spiritualism as the paranormal.” And thus utter tosh… She sipped her juice demurely. “I have indeed studied the Mordentish sect, but I do not recall regular communication with spirits being a requisite of the anchorite’s service there.

“I’m intrigued however at your reference to spirits that followed you here. I have always wondered whether your ability at perceiving them was involuntary and spontaneous, a natural ability, or a talent which requires regular or ritualised practice.” She was also curious about his first remarks on divination and its price, but decided to wait for his whimsical mood to shift to a more serious tone before pursuing it. Assuming it ever does… He must be a noble to afford to be so rude. That or suicidal…
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Undead Cabbage »

“Do you know, Mister Midwinter, I was wondering what you were doing here myself. But I suppose you’ve had yourself run out of every other country on the Core,”
"One by one, doll-face," Jonathan replies, swinging back and forth in his seat.

Jonathan butts out his long expired cigar, immediately balancing another one in his mouth and lighting it. Again, he tries to offer one to Gertrude. A puff of smoke whisks over her face as Jonathan leans towards her.

"Being in touch with your spirits in Lacrese's" -I probably shouldn't mention anything about that little thirty man army of his...stupid bloke "group of ezra thumpers is more something strongly reccomended than required".
“I’m intrigued however at your reference to spirits that followed you here. I have always wondered whether your ability at perceiving them was involuntary and spontaneous, a natural ability, or a talent which requires regular or ritualised practice.”
"How about a little bit of all three, doll-face. I'd demonstrate with something flashy, but the second most unfortunate thing about these bloody Souragnians is that they don't seem to like certain majiks. I also get the feeling that despite my irresistable charms and graces, you wouldn't want to go off to some place a little more private. Pity."

Jonathan turns his head, eye-balling a few of the women in the bar.
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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude mentally rolled her eyes at the spiritualist’s erratic behaviour but soldiered on with the conversation. It reminded her of several unruly students she’d had at the university. At the mention of Lacrese, she asked, “Why is this?” She wasn’t certain whether he was telling her the truth or not, but she knew that the Mordentish rivaled the Darkonese in their seeming obsession with the dead. Odd how the two sects are so antithetical…

The professor ignored his next sally; she saw no point in addressing what she considered obvious from the start. Instead she asked, “Why did you come here, then? To study the spirits here, or were you hired by one of the nobles here?” She couldn’t imagine the Souragniens bothering to go so far afield, unless they were pursuing something particularly taboo.
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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