The Fox's Visitor

The Fox's Visitor

Postby Seeta » Fri Jan 04, 2008 5:51 pm

A force of evening wind pulls a girl forward by the rich cloth of her scarlet, winter cape. The eye of the moon looks down. Seeta, overwrought with all manner of daydreams, imagines that the eye is a frowning Madame Swinton's -- were the lady aware of the nature of this particular adventure, at this particular hour.

"Well, someone has to say it! Someone must be frank!" She squeaks to herself in wind-broken whispers of anger; the tempest of her pale curls lashes forward around her air-filled cheeks, tight lips, and sparking eyes. The tea house girl pauses on the road, piping a sneeze into her handkerchief.

She did not remember the gaol being this far away. After a few more minutes of walking, the hem of her dress wet with snow, she comes up to a guard at the entrance of the local prison.

The guard's gaze will find a nymph-like girl in his midst: her mittened hands tucked away, her cape's hood raised, and moons for eyes staring up at him.

"Good evening, miss. Isn't it a little late for -- "

"Yes, yes!" Seeta hops with anger; her whispery, nose-stuffed words run from explosive to apologetic all in a span of seconds. "Oh, I am so sorry to interupt -- but you see, I am in quite a state! Can you see what a state I am in?"

The guard hesitates. "Well, I guess you do seem a little ups -- "

"Upset! Oh, how upset I am! I sneeze and water and my nose is red. I am not fit to be seen by anyone," despairs the girl.

"And, ah, exactly what is it that I can help you -- "

"Oh, I can not be helped now! It is too late for that. I shall die from this miserable cold, and I shall have an awful, red nose as I lay in my coffin, and everyone shall laugh. What a joke!" Her eyes begin to blur.

"Uh.. " The guard shifts uncomfortably as the girl's wet eyes stare up at him.

"I have come to visit my murderer!"

"Ah, with all due respect, miss -- I don't think you're going to die from a cold."

"Oh, what do you know!" Seeta miserably replies. "Please, I must be allowed to see the man who broke the window of the tea house. I can not rest until I have said my p- piece!"

"Visiting hours are -- ack!" He looks down at the front of his coat, which the frantic girl has just sneezed all over. His expression twists as he wipes at it. "Aw, come on now, miss. .... Miss?"

He turns to see the girl stalking past him through the gate. "Ohh, what a dreadful place. Thank you so much, sir. It will only take a moment to say what I have to say!"

"Hey!"
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Postby Cinnabar » Fri Jan 04, 2008 11:52 pm

Being a prison, of course, there are further guards as one ventures deeper into the compound. Sentries to negotiate, locked and barred doors to seek passage through, and so on. It's late for visitors, yes, and given the miscreant in question's past history - and the fact that he previously escaped from Constabulary detention with the assistance of a beautiful young lady - it's no surprise that Seeta's request is met with some degree of suspicion.

Given her insistence, however, perhaps something can be arranged.

"A'right, miss, but just fer a few minutes." This man's perhaps more experienced than the lad on the gate, less sympathetic for a pretty young girl's suffering. Perhaps he remembers what happened the last time this prisoner had an unexpected visitor, and what happened to the guards on duty. There's a reason he keeps his helm on. In any case, the burly guard unbolts the door leading to the row of cells housing the notorious Reynard Volpone, as he has been identified. "Y'can talk to him through the window in the cell door. If y'want to sneeze in his face or whatnot, y'can come back in proper visitin' hours. Ain't openin' that door tonight, tears an' sniffles or no. More'n my job's worth."

The door swings open on oiled hinges, revealing a corridor lined with sturdy doors of iron and oak; small, barred windows set at eye-level give a view of the cells' occupants, each with an iron shutter that might seal the prisoners in entirely if they seem intent on misusing this privilege. Heavy iron locks and bolts secure each cell from the outside, and the gaoler nods to his colleague and hands over his ring of keys for safekeeping; taking no chances, it seems. The other man closes the door and slides the bolts home behind prison guard and teahouse girl once they step into the corridor, and extends a hand towards the far end of the row.

"This way, miss. No funny business, now."
Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
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Postby Seeta » Sat Jan 05, 2008 12:52 am

Perhaps she detects that this one is less likely to be moved; she tries to keep her outbursts and sniffles to herself, and sticks to quiet, grateful murmurs of "thank you" as she's led into the prison. The ominous, metal shrieks of sliding bolts and heavy doors make her shiver and look often over her shoulder. She treads so closely that she steps on the officer’s heels.

"Oh, I am sorry!" Seeta sneezes, her wide, brown eyes filled with dread awe -- the feel of this place rendering silence impossible; clutching at the man’s arm as he leads her along, she whispers as loudly as she dares. "What an awful place. I can not imagine staying here for more than a few moments. I read a book once about a lady in a prison. Her name was Daniella, and she was wr- wrongfully accused. She died of a broken heart… "

She becomes so impassioned by her story by the time that they reach the cell of the window-breaker that she can hardly keep from jumping at prison-shadows.

When he points toward the end of the row, she looks up at him.

"You will stay while I talk to him, won't you? Oh, please do not leave me alone in this place, sir! I shall die of fright, and that is not nearly as romantic as dying of a broken heart."
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Postby Cinnabar » Sat Jan 05, 2008 1:03 am

A brief frown as she steps on the heel of his boot, perhaps a stiffening of posture as she clings to his arm; still not entirely trusting of the girl, not at all. You get lots of strange types here in Myrken.

"Awful place for awful people, miss. No wrongful accusin' with this one, anyway - stabbed up one o' the guards when he escaped last, tried to knife the guv'nor t'other night. Word is he's even tried cuttin' old Treadwell the taxman's throat in the past." He shakes his head, expression grim, and the girl might note that he readies his baton as they near the cell. "Bad sort. Best place for him's on the end of a rope." A pause, then, as he unlatches the plate over the door's window, and rattles his truncheon against the bars with a clatter.

"Oi, wake up. Got a visitor for you." He nods at her question, stepping aside from the window to let the girl look into the cell, should she so choose. A hand's extended to indicate that she shouldn't get too close to the bars, mind. Can't be too careful with a dangerous felon like this.
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Postby Seeta » Sat Jan 05, 2008 1:16 am

A sharp breath is inhaled. Maybe if she did less daydreaming and paid more heed to news and gossip, she would have known that this man was guilty of far more than breaking windows. Maybe this visit is not such a good idea after all.

Her warmly-mittened hands clench together at the clack and rattle of the baton against the window's bars. There is a brief flinch of lines about her troubled eyes.

When the constable offers the way forward, she swallows down a lump of fright before boldly stepping forth with small, slippered steps. Seeta waits with baited breath for a voice to reply to the rude summons of the prison-keeper before she says a word, and before she comes close enough to look inside the cell.
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Postby Treadwell » Sat Jan 05, 2008 2:33 pm

Catangaclangalang goes the truncheon on the bars. From within the cell, a groan, and a quiet, "What?" before a groan and a shuffle over follow suit. The Fox's haggard face and pointed snout appear through the cell bars in the dim lighting of the jail cell's hall.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Postby Seeta » Sat Jan 05, 2008 11:01 pm

"O- Oh!" The sound of the voice makes Seeta jump.

When Volpone's face appears behind the small, barred window of the cell, the girl is holding a tight handful of her cape against her throat -- perhaps remembering the guard's vivid description of what this man has done to Councilour Treadwell.

This is not at all what she imagined; now that she's here, at the climax of her long, angry walk, she wants nothing more to be in the safe, layered warmth of her bed's lazy, overflowing fluff.

The gaze that turns toward the truncheon-wielding guard is one that seeks support. Whatever she acquires with the look, it's not enough -- but she turns back to the cell, regardless.

"I -- I have come to tell you something v- very important!"

A crumpled flower of blue handkerchief briefly stifles her sniffing nose.

"Y-- Yes!" Seeta speaks up, heartened that she's found her stammering voice at all. Her smooth brow creases. "Something t- terribly pertinent!"
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Daveney

Postby SuperRy » Sun Jan 06, 2008 4:43 am

Knuckles rapped lightly on a door which, in its owner’s haste, had neglected to be latched. “Seeta?â€
a drowner, sinking in the dry sea
an insomniac, searching the dust for dreams
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Postby Treadwell » Sun Jan 06, 2008 3:16 pm

"Well, my lady!" The Fox manages a bow despite his being in his cell. "Do tell me this rather important news! What say you to a vile, nasty man such as I?"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Postby Seeta » Mon Jan 07, 2008 2:42 am

"O- Oh!" Seeta starts, cheeks flooding scarlet at the bow of the gentlemanly criminal. "I- I mean -- Yes! Listen here, mister!"

Her blush-blistered cheeks expand with held breath, brow furrowed, and her small fists tighten on her cape's cloth. Breath and words release together.

"I have come to tell you that it is very rude to break the windows of f- fine establishments! If you had any consideration at all, you might at least wait until another season! Because of you, I now have a dreadful c- cold and I am too stuffy to sleep!"

She pauses for a moment, wondering precisely how to end this abbreviated rant. It comes to her with the thrust of a shaking mitten.

"Shame on you, sir! Shame and discomfort!"
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Postby Treadwell » Mon Jan 07, 2008 4:02 am

"Oh dear! Shame on me! Shame, shame! I fain would rather see to your complete comfort, my lady. Perhaps a night in here, with me, might ease you of your dreaded cold?" The Fox gives her an ear to ear grin, waving his arm as well as he can at the cell around him.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Postby Seeta » Mon Jan 07, 2008 4:23 am

The tea house girl sucks in a sharp breath; her cheeks are ragingly pink.

"Have you no decency?!"

Her hands settle on her flaired hips.

"You are -- You are a devil, sir! I thought at first that you might be a gentleman who is morally confused, but now I see that you can not even be called a gentleman!"
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Postby Treadwell » Mon Jan 07, 2008 4:26 am

At that, the Fox finds himself bursting into uproarious laughter, turning to walk the very short distance back to the bench in his cell, there to sit as he calms down from Seeta's latest outburst.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Postby Seeta » Mon Jan 07, 2008 4:46 am

Seeta is so surprised by this reaction that she does not, at first, know how to respond in turn. However, the Fox's eruption of laughter prompts a certain amount of cross curiosity. The girl steps forward so that she can glare into the cell at the barred shadows of his face.

"Why do you laugh?! What on earth is so funny?"

Then, just as suddenly, she throws up her hands.

"Oh, I am d- done with you! I have said my piece! I have nothing more to say at all, except that I hope y- your misdeeds make it hard to sleep! Hmph! Goodbye to you!"

The lass turns upon the guard and informs him that she is ready to go; then she heads away from the prison cell of The Fox.
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