Nowhere to Run

Nowhere to Run

Postby Glenn » Mon Aug 19, 2013 12:50 am

Constance Cross, personal secretary to Glenn Burnie, Governor of Myrken Wood, was a testament to professionalism and poise. Her hair was neat. Her clothes were straight. Her bearing was serious. Her thoughts were ordered. To put it simply, her everything was organized. she was, in short, the best that money could buy, better, very likely, than Myrken Wood deserved. She had been something of a vanity purchase for the Governor. He reached a certain point of success and he found her and allowed himself the expense.

Then, less than three months later, he was snatched away to Golben.

Despite that sudden absence, Miss Cross had done an exemplary job of keeping things moving. She was the connective tissue of the bureaucracy and knew who to talk to when. That she had done this while avoiding Rhaena Olwak completely was all the more impressive. It was also absolutely necessary. Despite her short tenure, she had a very good idea where the bodies were buried. More than that, though, she was a symbolic representation of many things that Myrken's Princess was not. The opposite was true. That Glenn had chosen her specifically and for qualities that Rhaena simply did not possess must have grated. The mindwitch was righting even the smallest of slights that people had committed against her years ago. Miss Cross' very existence was a rather large and very recent slight. So she kept out of sight and did what she could.

Until Agnieszka River's letter to Rhaena. That let Myrken's uncrowned 'governess' know that she was still in town, that she was still active. It was hard to hide from someone who could read minds. It had taken the compromising of four increasingly important officials for Constance to realize that Rhaena was on her trail.

It was then that she took flight. Despite her usual poise, it quickly became apparent that there was no one she could trust. Anyone could have been transformed by the begowned monster. Her attempts to hire a carriage sent a pair of Constables towards her. She barely escaped. She made an attempt to directly contact the Vice-Governor but that pathway was watched and it sent her on the run once more this time from two unsavory, but terribly well-dressed fellows. Finally, desperate, she attempted petty horse theft, but as she was making her final escape from town, the horse simply stopped, something grabbing hold of its mind. Too many people had seen her. She darted off the horse and ran until her own legs refused to move on their own volition. Instead she turned, helplessly marching back towards the nearest building like a puppet on a string.

At the sight of the most beautiful dress she had ever seen and the look on the face of the woman wearing it, even Constance Cross, ever poised and unflappable, screamed.

Then there was silence.
Glenn
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