A Case for Condolences

A Case for Condolences

Postby Tolleson » Fri Aug 02, 2013 5:59 am

Research, paper trails, records, overlooked details that no one bothered with, these were the sort of things that Genny excelled at. It was probably the entire reason Glenn had even bothered with her. She and the Gods knew, there was little talent beyond that. Except, perhaps, in baking pies.

But in this matter there were no details, no records, no more than a mention in the hundreds of volumes she’d scoured. One moment there was a hefty volume in her hand and the next it slammed into the wall several paces in front of her. Dust billowed and spread in a cloud around the site of impact, the heavy tome landing with a great thud on the Inquistory floor.

Alone the redhead sunk her head into her palms, frustration overwhelming as she curled over her desk in wee early hours preceding dawn. Sleep had all but been abandoned; dark circles, the lamplight cast shadows, had become permanent.

For several moments she sat, wallowing in failure. Every scrap had been meticulously analyzed and yet still she felt there was something, somewhere, surely. Best to just collapse here and leave finding Glenn to the champions of Myrken, the Calomels the Agnies.

It is in this moment, desperation upon her that she became aware of the warm hand on her shoulder. His voice but a soft breath of air whispered, in her ear. Abruptly she turns, sending papers in a shower from her desk. Met with her own flickering shadow on the wall opposite, her eyes frantically search the darkness. In the space of a breath she is on her feet and colored specks burn and dance at the edge of her vision, the world teeters and tips.

“Glenn?!”

There is nothing. He is not there. But the whisper in the back of her mind comes as she is forced to steady herself on the chair back.

‘If someone threatens you, fight back,’ the young mapmaker had said to her, the dagger he gave her was small, but beautiful and the remembered words echoed. He had been mad at the time, frustrated with her and the memory is still vivid. Upset that she hadn’t done something to protect herself, to fight, to have faith in herself.

Fingers idly run over the fabric that covers the sheath, it lies warm against her skin. In the face of adversity, at the end of one road, came determination to find another way. The Inquistory is left with a new goal in mind, the book and papers cleaned up to leave no evidence of her encounter.

----------------------------------------------------------

Dawn comes and goes, it is mid morning before she emerges and a carriage delivers a fresh and made up Genny to the home of Horace’s widow. Genny will step out into the sunlight and rap at the door; she is an incredible sight to behold. Every strand had been meticulously cared for, her neatly braided hair forming a burning orange crown. Only the wisps at the back of neck, unable to be tamed, suggested anything but perfect, orderly control. From head to toe she was clad in a dress more suited for a ball, in fact it had been her ball gown, for Descant’s doomed affair, years ago now. Laboriously embellished at it’s hem with green and gold embroidery, refitted and made to match current styles, Genny moves slowly. Great care is taken with every step as white was hardly the color for someone so prone to clumsy falls.
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Dulcie » Fri Aug 02, 2013 6:44 am

The home was little better than a hovel. The building hardly looked big enough to house a family, and yet as Genny walked up to the door a pair of children came bursting from it. A small boy about 7 and a girl about 6, the younger of the two looking rather ill, pausing in her rush out of the door to grab her brother as she succombed to a fit of coughing. The child wiped a drop of blood from her lips and took a moment to breathe and rise with her brother's help before she giggled and went trying to chase after him again.

In the doorway a haggered looking woman watched not only the children, but Genny as well. Perhaps if her life had been different the widow might have been a pretty woman, but the years had not been kind to her. What could have been delicate features were now gaunt with the hints of starvation. She was far thinner than she should have been, and her simple, black dress of mourning hung from her loosely, likely borrowed from another person who lived in this wretched part of town.

"Think yer in the wrong part o' town miss. Ain't much out here fer fine folks such as yerself." She'd had enough of these ladies coming and thinking they'd be doing her some sort of charity. She was a proud woman, and determined to keep her family on their feet on her own.
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Tolleson » Fri Aug 02, 2013 7:08 am

There is nothing about this home that startles Genny. However, it does little to make her comfortable either. Awkwardly she stood, giving a meager smile to the children passing and looking to the woman at first in silence; she had come this far and hadn’t really be prepared for what she would say. The sight of it all tugs at her, the children especially leave a somber sympathy to her expression.

Both women were exhausted, a little well placed make-up did well to hide it on Genny. But it was a very different sort of exhaustion that the redhead observed in the widow. The last thing she wanted to do was make anything more difficult for this woman, especially a conversation with a stranger who had no business trying to make things right in her life.

“I am… I-I am actually here to see you, … and I apologize, I don’t actually have… much to offer you but I… perhaps I might offer my condolences for you, for… your late husband. Horace?”
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Dulcie » Fri Aug 02, 2013 7:48 am

"Well I'm bloody well over people offerin' me condolences!" The woman snapped, her eyes clearly looking over Genny in judgement. " 'specially from the likes of ye. Bet ye ain't never even knew my Horace. Ya knew him ye woulda been ta' his funeral. But ye weren't, so yer just another one o' those hoity toity ladies tryin' to make your rich little heart feel good 'bout me sorrow. Well I ain't interested!"

The woman would move to try to shut the door in Genny's face. Not harshly, but more of a slow, definite movement. The closing of not only a door, but also a barrier to be constructed between her poverty and the apparent wealth of her visitor.
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Tolleson » Fri Aug 02, 2013 8:04 am

“I d-didn’t know your husband…” Genny had started but the woman was already turned and headed back. Her reflexes had never been fast but her hand would stop the door and grip it with ferocity.

“Horace did not die for… there was no sickness or accident, the… there are no records of what really happened.” There was hardly a breath between, her face beginning to burn, her temper rising.. “Please, I-I didn’t come here to… to … to offer you charity. I-I-I c-c-came to s-save a man’s life!”

She spoke it as if the statement were fact, when in truth it was little more than a shot in the dark. His death record had been left entirely blank with only a note that he had been employed in some capacity by Berdini. With no other paper trail, record or word she could only look to where the absence of information was odd, where silence spoke loudest.

Her temper waned slightly if only to make room for a plea, a breath and a pause for reason, “please, … I need your help.”
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Dulcie » Sat Aug 03, 2013 2:50 am

The young woman's hand caught the widow's door, and even though she tried to continue to press it closed Genny held firm.

"I bid ye not to go spreadin' rumors like that out on my door while my children are about." She hissed at Genny, but as the woman pleaded and mentioned the life of another, the investigator would find the pressure on the door released and the widow would pull it open, motioning her inside hurriedly.

"That's 'nuff o' that talk. Stupid thing, ye'll get yerself killed goin' on like that in the middle o' a place like this. Come in child."

She'd wait until Genny had come inside before calling out to the children, instructing them to go off any play at a neighbors house before she closed the door and locked it, leaning her back against it as she'd turn to look at Genny.

"Now what's this 'bout some man's life in danger eh?"
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Tolleson » Sat Aug 03, 2013 4:31 am

Narrow eyes watched and her lips pressed together in determination even as the woman hissed. Releasing found indented red marks left on her hands where the door had been gripped. Quickly she lifted her skirts to just above her ankle to keep from tripping herself, revealing dusty boots, scuffed, old and warn thin over boney ankles and bunions.

A glance is shot behind as she rushes inside, wherein she turns immediately to face the widow. Her hands wrung, smoothing out the dent left from a strong door on a rather weak hand.

“There is a man, he… a dear friend who has been missing.” No names, great care, an almost crazed but authentic passion underlined her words. “I… there is very little known about Berdini’s project. And-and your… your late husband, G-g-gods keep him, he… the Councilor Berdini was his employer?” Genny was careful, for now not to let slip who she was or who she referred to. Though the latter might easily be inferred and her somewhat recognizable presence here alone might tip off any watchful eye.

Already knowing the answer, Genny looked to her hands and took a deep breath knowing she was going to have to offer some information in return. With her exhale comes resignation to that fact and some composure.

“Did he have friends... or talk about his work?" A long pause as she came out with her real question, "did he ever mention... the Golben?"
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Dulcie » Sun Aug 04, 2013 3:23 am

The widow motioned Genny into the hovel. A one room house with a small space for cooking and another for sleeping, where four bodies had once piled in together to stay warm in the winter time. The little home seemed so much larger now.

She sat down at the table and waited for Genny to do the same.

"Seems ta me ye've got alot o' nerve comin' round here askin' me questions like that w'out ever even givin' me yer name." Genny got a pointed look at that. "Mine's Millie. Kids are Glory and Gregor, not that ye been askin' 'bout them neither. Just things dead 'an gone. You want tea?"

The widow was up then, making tea whether Genny wanted it or not. "Horace worked at Golben, sure. Most o' the menfolk 'round here did. No secret Councilor Berdini's been employin' 'em. Good man that one. Came 'round an' told us 'bout Horace's accident himself. Paid for the funeral an' gave us a bit o' money to help with Glory's doctor bills, bless her heart."
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Tolleson » Sun Aug 04, 2013 4:36 am

And this was why she worked at a desk more often than not. Glenn had urged her to get out into ‘the field’ more and perhaps this moment was a shining example as to why. Her lack of experience with social graces was some evidence that she wasn’t the fine lady that today she looked; that and her boots.

A downcast look was the unvoiced apology, perhaps she’d even bit her tongue for the complete social ineptitude. “Tea… would be, I would, that… lovely, t-thank you.”

Silent for some time, Genny ruminated on the words the widow spoke. Perhaps a bit too tired, her eyes distant, as if seeing straight through the table before where she’d slid uncomfortably into a chair. “I’m… I am sorry…” She did have the time for pleasantries, or with her week's present manic state she certainly didn’t feel like she could afford it. “My name… is Genny, and I-I-I… I didn’t mean to offend.” Your children are lovely, but that girl is on death’s doorstep, your house is lovely for a hovel; she did have some manners. No point in offending the woman in an attempt to be pleasant when simple politeness might suffice.

But the widow had made it a point to address these things and while her purpose here was singular Genny would try to show some interest. “Oh… I am afraid, well you see, I-I-I don’t know the Councilor that well. I-I-I had no idea he, he was such a generous e-employer.” But did he treat all of his employees with such a kind heart? “It is good he-he-he paid for a doctor… your girl, G-Glory, she is treated… she is recovering from P-p-phthisis?” Immediately she shook her head as if to rescind the words, not sure if that was the name it had here, “uh… bloody cough?”
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Dulcie » Mon Aug 05, 2013 3:29 am

Millie finished brewing the tea, calloused hands working the kettle to fill chipped mugs with the bitter drink before coming to join Genny at the table, setting one of the mugs down in front of her before she took a seat.

"Nice ta be meetin' ye Genny." Pleasantness. Something that could be afforded even in the slums of Myrkentown.

She listened to the question about her daughter and nodded her head. "Aye, think that's what the Doctor said. Bad lungs. Had 'em ever since she was born. Don't 'spose the medicine will keep her with us forever but I'll take each day I can get. She's why Horace took the Golben job. They was told it was dangerous, but the pay was too good to pass up. Not sure what I'll do when the money runs out. 'Spose I'll have to get meself ready to let her go."

It was a sad reality, but one spoken with a simple, honest truth. This was something the widow had dealt with many years ago. Death was inevitable in conditions like this.

"Now then, ye were ramblin' 'bout things not bein' an accident. What makes ye think that lass?"
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Tolleson » Mon Aug 05, 2013 4:32 am

“Oh, thank you,” manners might go a long way and so she would do her best to remember how to be civilized. The mug was taken, held with both hands as if a life preserver in the conversation. An uncomfortable silence would settle, even after Millie had finished speaking. It was the sound of thinking, of trying to find a solution to the widow’s problems. A child with a condition like this, it was heartbreaking.

“An a-accident… no I, I’m sorry, I…” She seemed lost for words, consumed even in this moment with concern for the child’s future; for the mother, who had lost before, lost recently, and would lose again. The world was unfair and within it, Myrken was just downright cruel. “I…” Shaking her head, she held her tea and looked into the depths of it.

“I-I-I… must h-have been mistaken. Y-you see I-I… there is very little known about Golben and the c-certificate, the uh, ledger that keeps track of the deaths in Myrken was simply left blank… it must have been in error. With the uh… f-f-funeral services and Glory’s doctor paid, I-I-I … there must have… I am sure it was just a c-careless c-clerk.”

A sip of tea is taken and no matter how strong, bitter, or vile it might seem to someone used to taking tea with Calomel, Genny’s eyes would warm and a small, still meek, but approving smile would be donned.

“I… I beg your forgiveness, as I've said, I ... know so little about Golben, just here-say and rumors as to what has ... what is built there… I … you say it paid well, but was d-dangerous? What sort of work did Horace to there? And... if just to clear up the ledger, what caused... how... how exactly did he pass?”
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Dulcie » Tue Aug 06, 2013 2:24 am

She listened to the girl's stuttering and stammers calmly, her tea sipped patiently, letting the girl work her way through it. At the mention of certificates she'd smile a dark smile and shake her head a little.

"Not all that uncommon I think. Folks in the offices don't care much for those o' us that live out here. Could nay read the certificates if they came. Imagine most o' 'em don't have details. We don't make it our business to make sure they're written an' correct. Dead is dead lass. Ain't no piece o' paper that's changin' that."

Another sip, and more questions.

" 'Course it was dangerous. Workin' in an' near a pit like that. Accidents happen o'course." She wetted her lips slightly. "Think Horace was helpin' with some o' the metal work. Said it was for sculptures but he told me it was nothin' like any sculpture he could imagine. More like weapons an' cages. He didn' ask though. Myrken's a funny place, art could be a funny thing."

She wrapped her hands about her mug, rubbing a fingertip along the chip in the rim.

"Councilor Berdini said Horace musta slipped one night on his way home. Said that the edge o' the pit was particu'lary dangerous an' crumbles sometimes. Said that Horace musta been looking down into Golben when some o' it gave way an' he fell. Too far for anyone to live through he said. Horace was always too curious for his own good." She pressed her lips together then, trying not to show tears in front of a woman she didn't know.
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Tolleson » Tue Aug 06, 2013 7:44 am

On the contrary, Glenn Burnie’s Myrken had been meticulous. There were hundreds or even thousands of files, the piles that had over run his desk were ample proof. Even for folk like Millie and Horace, the Inquisitors knew just about everything about everyone. Just about.

But it was all plausible and so she would nod as if in understanding though her brow wrinkled in silent disagreement. Dead wasn’t just dead, the how, the why, and in this case the where was what made it so important. Still there were some useful tidbits, metalworking, weapons, cages. Gods knew what that man had built.

He must have slipped and no one saw? And of course the pit was so large, it would have been impossible to recover a body. Surely so close to such a thing the men that worked there were careful, they’d have to be. But there were all sorts of rumors, the men that worked there came back a bit different, some forgetting the entirety of their employment. But the pay was too good.

A husband lost because the pay was too good. For a moment the thought occurs to Genny, there was no pay in the world too good, no amount worth losing her knight, her James. Swallowing hard against the thought, her sympathy earnest, she will set down the warm mug and offer her hand, upturned, across the table that she might comfort the stranger.

“Many men… they must be lost this way… it, the Golben is a dangerous place, he must have been… he was very brave. I-I… I am so sorry Millie.” She paused her own eyes a bit damp, perhaps sympathy, empathy in thinking of James, or concern for Glenn with what little she has learned. Likely, all of it. Confused and trying comprehend what snapped in beautiful Rhaena’s mind that would have her send Glenn to a place like that, whatever it had become, filled with Berdini’s ‘art’ projects.

“P-perhaps we may f-find him, and-and-and… set him to rest t-that the Gods might bring him peace,” eluding that she and some other person or group intended to venture into the place.
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Dulcie » Tue Aug 06, 2013 7:56 am

She watched, seeing the emotions cross the young woman's face. Remembering a time in her life when pain and despair were things she only imagined in her dark days, and had yet to experience. It made things hurt worse. She pressed her lips together and looked over at Genny before reaching across to try to rest a calloused hand against one of the girl's own.

"That'd be a blessin'." She started "But I don't think ye or any other one should be goin' out there. I know most folks forgot what they seen when they be workin' out at Golben, but Horace never did. He knew too well the devil's at the bottom o' the bottle. Never told me nothin' to think anythin' but the truth was goin' on out there but somethin' about the place made him uneasy. Was downright frightened before the accident. I was thinkin' it was 'cuz he knew death was comin' for him. Some people know that you know? In their dreams and such. But you says there's another man in danger, an' I have to be thinkin' that sometimes it's best to keep yourself safe. Yer young lass. Be young, find yer beau if ye've got one an' go get yerself married and have yer children. Dabblin' in troubles like this ain't no place for you. Sometimes men make the beds they find themselves in. Best to let 'em rest there."
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Re: A Case for Condolences

Postby Tolleson » Tue Aug 06, 2013 11:41 am

Although not calloused, her hands were hardly that of a fine lady. Covered in paper cuts accented by old ink stains, it was none-the-less warm and friendly. A gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance or comfort is offered easily as she listens.

“You… he knew it was t-trouble and he s-s-still went?” Genny shook her head more in sadness, in mourning, a regretful decision as surely Millie would be better off with her husband still alive. Of course he went, he had a family, a wife, a sick little girl with doctor’s bills and mouths to feed. It made her angry for her, at him, at the Golben; a pit, a pit of evil, a pit of evil filled with cages and weapons. A prison. “How… Why… what frightened him?” It is almost whispered, the frustration lingering as she looked to the woman’s eyes, sympathetic and searching.

There is a stern nod from Genny, agreeing on all the points of what she ought not do. She was never good at keeping herself safe, or even trying. But then again, it didn’t matter as much to her, there were bigger things at stake, others whose safety might well rely on her. The very thought and weight of that responsibility turned her stomach.

“That… surely, Horace… no-no-no one deserves to die this way,” now tears threatened, swelling within her eyes. Her grip tightened for a moment as she tried to hold back before releasing and preemptively wiping below her eyes, nearly futile attempts to retain composure. For how distraught she was it might easily be assumed that it was her beau whom she sought to rescue.

Another moment, a little salt added to her tea she shook her head with the best smile she could manage. Determination straightening her shoulders, she was clearly not going to follow the woman’s advice.“T-t-thank you for seeing me… you, I know how d-difficult this all must be… I wanted to know what I was… what I would be f-facing d-d-down there.” She sat a moment, swallowed hard as if this very moment she prepared herself to go down.
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