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Post by Shovatic on Jul 8, 2015 15:24:28 GMT -5
"Varus..." he faked a heartbreak, letting his voice break with the most sadness he could conjure from within himself. He let tears rise in his eyes, as if he was the victim, but did not let them flow far enough to fall.
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Post by Lacarinus on Jul 8, 2015 15:54:21 GMT -5
"No." was the last thing the blonde managed, leaning bodily against the desk with tears refusing to fall onto his cheeks. His body shaking with loud, heavy sobs.
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Post by Shovatic on Jul 8, 2015 21:24:00 GMT -5
"Im so sorry." He let his voice collapse into a mere whisper before standing up, and before opening the door, rubbing his eyes with his hand.
Harper who had been listening, rather shocked stepped away from the door and let the admiral emerge through it. She looked at him with slight concern but his face had returned to its normal collected state. He signaled for her to follow him and they made their way back to his large office.
He sat down in his chair before allowing her to ask her questions.
"Sir, what exactly did you just-"
"A little thing called lying, acting, manipulation, you choose a word."
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Post by Im lazy to log in on Aug 8, 2015 17:54:46 GMT -5
He was gone the next day. Not a finger print or scrap of paper or speck of dust was in his office to tell where he had gone. Which was an abandoned naval base in the atlantic.
"Oliver, we're doing this tomorrow. You are not to make rash decisions, or any decisions without my permission."
"Yes, sir."
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Post by Shovatic on Aug 8, 2015 18:05:24 GMT -5
Harvey opened his eyes to a small, perfect boys face very near to his own. He looked at the small amount of sun in the room shining through the strands of hair hanging loosely fron the sides of his face, and exhaled, quietly but with a smile. He sat up from his position and slowly removed himself from the warm spot. He glided across the room, replacing the shoes that had somehow come off of his feet back on, before realizing there was little clothing on himself in the first place. He quickly clothed himself, humming a very quiet tune that he had heard quite alot wherever music could be played. He couldn't exactly remember the artist who sang the song, but he still somehow knew most of the lyrics. He quietly began to sing the sweet endearing words to the tune.
"I am dreaming Dear of you, day by day
Dreaming when the skies are blue, When they're gray;
When the silv'ry moonlight gleams, Still I wander on in dreams,
In a land of love, it seems, Just with you."
"Let Me Call You Sweetheart" -Peerless Quartet - circa. 1911
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Post by Jack Daniels on Aug 23, 2015 21:32:53 GMT -5
The pale haired boy rolled to watch his redheaded companion, outlined by bright light. Voice low and rumbling a familiar tune, one his people danced to, bright and lively on nights when the military left them alone and they lit the colored lanterns that dotted the streets.
A reverberating beat, like the thumping of a heart would fill the streets on those days, and his eyes with tears, with the reminder that all of them relied on him.
"Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.
Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.
Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.
Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you."
His voice was higher, more feminine, but hushed and throaty from the early morning.
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Post by Shovatic on Aug 23, 2015 21:49:44 GMT -5
He jumped at the joining of the higher voice a little, he turned slightly embarrased,but kept singing. The joining of the low and high resonance of their voices made chills shoot down his spine as he turned to face the boy behind him. He sang sofly as he approached Jack and sat back down next to him, his face glowing a soft pink.
Longing for you all the while, More and more;
Longing for the sunny smile, I adore;
Birds are singing far and near, Roses blooming ev'rywhere
You, alone, my heart can cheer; You, just you.
He placed his head very near Jacks as they sang quietly the final verse of the song. Harvey couldn't remember a time he had been this happy, or this comfortable with someone, he smiled as he neared the white haired boys' face. He lightly placed his forehead against Jacks, closing his eyes in a state of peace and bliss, one that he hoped would never leave.
Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.
Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.
Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.
Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.
They sat listening to eachothers slow but calm breaths for a few minutes until the higher voice of the two broke Harvey from his peace with butterflies that shook his core. For some reason, his voice always did this to him.
"How about we read more of that book."
Harvey opened his eyes to the sleepy face of the boy, and the grin on the gingers face collided with the forehead of the apparently exhausted boy. A light kiss was placed before the tall ginger sat up and walked to the door. He heard Jacks breath deepen as he fell back asleep, and with a smile he began his journey along the now vaugely familiar path to Jacks library. His stupid grin refused to leave his face, even when he retrieved the book from the very nice woman who had maybe seen too much, he wished her a nice day and started his journey back.
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Post by Tamassran on Aug 25, 2015 10:46:09 GMT -5
Esther pov lolollolollololololololimsatan
She had followed him through the dark streets tailing behind him a great distance away. She had played their games and waited, and watched, but now it was time to pounce and she did just that. She shifted her weight so that when she approached the tall red head he wouldn't hear her feet clacking against the crappy cobblestone streets. She stood to her full height which wasn't much compared to the goliath that was the man in front of her. She kicked out the back of his knees and lowly chuckled at his very womanly squeal.
She threaded her fingers through his red hair quite roughly in fact, and jerked his skull back so that his ears were aligned with her lips, "Hello Harvey, and sorry for the interruption of sorts I promise I won't leave any permanent injuries, but the same can't be said for Oliver. My boss would like to see you, and is too lazy to get his sorry ass up, and retrieve you himself so he sent me to do it. Hope you don't mind." She retrieved the small handkerchief coated with chloroform as he made a very pathetic attempt to get away, and stuffed it in front of his nose, and mouth forcing him to breathe in. He went limp seconds later, and dropped a small book from his hands as she dragged him across the ground to the carriage she had "borrowed", threw him in the coach, sat in the drivers seat, and coaxed the distressed horse into moving.
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Post by Shovatic on Aug 25, 2015 11:21:12 GMT -5
Lool this is secretly OLIVER im a haxer.
The fire was hot, burning and bright and close to his face. People were herding crowds of children from burning buildings, few would return with parents, if they even did now. Maybe a younger him would have taken delight in their panic and screams, the scent of burning flesh catching in his nose. The colored lanterns that were lit nightly seemed to have gotten a bit out of hand tonight, there was a twist in his gut.
"Mommy?!" The frightened calls of a boy with messy brown hair caught his attention. "Mommy where did you go?!"
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The sun was half covered by the crooked chimney that protruded from the roof of the little stone house. Her footsteps were quiet, once, she would have bounded up the path and into her father's arms. He would call her Seabird and she would laugh because he'd try and spin her, even though she was far too big. Smelling like fish and salt with messy hair and twinkling eyes.
But now he was gone and she didn't know if she would be welcomed or turned away, coming home, pregnant with your commander- whom you aren't married to's child. Her mother was much more strict with her than her father had.
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Post by Tamassran on Aug 25, 2015 15:06:47 GMT -5
Annette tbh its fun to hack ppl
Annette's nose scrunched up at a familiar smell. She hated when people had fires in their houses during the summer months, yet something seemed different, it seemed to much to be just a basic fire. She limped outside of her small living place and stared up at the sky. Black?
She checked the small pocket watch she kept with her at all times, its gold fixtures glittering slightly in the darkness.
9;30
There was no way that could be right, her watch must be broken or something, right?
She saw a red glow on the horizon and her heart sank low.
She quickly ran back to Riley, ignoring the stabbing pain in her gut, and shook him awake. Panic in her heart but not plainly on her face. She always tried to hide it but the green eyed boy knew her too well.
"What's wrong, Annette." He said sleepily.
"I- the-" she began to attempt to speak but the image of her younger brother crossed her mind. She turned and ran to where her brother was supposed to be staying, but that room had been vacant all night. She ran back in the direction of the only other place she knew Harvey might run to.
"Annette! Where are you-" He looked up at the sky as she passed, and his eyes widened. He ran after her, quickly gaining until he ran behind her.
She slammed open the door to Jack's room, fear slapping her like a fish as her eyes scanned the room. She asked barely showing her fear but almost certainly showing some anger to the boy on the bed awoken by her loud and rude entrance, "Where is my Brother?
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Post by Tamassran on Aug 25, 2015 16:02:34 GMT -5
THIS IS OLIVIER/JACK/ELSBETH/EVERYONE EVER
He jerked to attention, blinking, "He went to go grab a book from a friend of mine a skip ago." His tone was defensive, unsure why she was acting so aggressively. "He should be back any minute." There was a faint scent of char hovering it's way into the room, raising the hairs on the pale boy's neck. The dark haired boy appeared in the doorway behind her, looking as startled as he was.
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"What do you mean you were given medical leave, Elsbeth there's not a scratch on you, apart from..." her mother made a vague gesture at her daughter's splotchy face, disgust evident. "The only reason you would be on medical leave is if you went crazy darling, I'm not partial to having a daughter who threw away her future and her sanity, people talk, and I went through enough of that when you joined that parade!"
"Mother-" She tucked her hair behind her ear, worrying at her lip, "I wasn't discharged for those kinds of medical reasons." It wouldn't be any easier to tell her mother that she was pregnant than it would be to tell her she was crazy.
"Well speak up girl!"
"I'm pregnant."
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Post by Shovatic on Aug 25, 2015 17:19:41 GMT -5
She ran outside again, followed a little shortly behind by Riley and the very confused Jack. She turned to the blackening sky as a large quantity of her friends started pouring out of their rooms, all confused by the smell. Realization hit the white haired boy as Annette stared at him with an expression of ager with the tinest hint of fear behind her eyes.
"I'm going to find my brother." She said before running off towards what she hoped would be her brother fine, who had tripped and lost his way. He has to be okay he has to be okay he has to be okay. She began to sprint to where the large fires licking the sky had started to spread, followed by one large boy and one small. She stopped short at the sight of a slightly burnt book laying in the center of the messily paved road.
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Post by Mmm torture on Sept 4, 2015 9:27:24 GMT -5
The room they brought him to was dark, cold and damp and with a faint dripping sound from melting ice two floors up. No windows.
She looked on with honey brown eyes, hands clenched in fists. Staring. Dark red hair plastered to his forehead from the damp and blood from a shallow cut on his head. Covered in a collection of freckles, more than she could count, even on his softly creased eyelids. She wanted to go, tell the young boy, chained up to the wall like a dog, that it would be okay. That he'd be fine if he listened to them and he'd be home soon.
But she didnt lie to honest people
She had made a mistake
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Post by Shovatic on Sept 4, 2015 13:08:53 GMT -5
Harvey stirred from his comatose state, slowly opening is eyes to complete darkness. A sharp pain ran through his head as he rested it on the wall his body was limply leaning against. He attemped to grab the throbbing spot but his arms stopped almost as soon as they started. The shackles digging into his wrists rattled as he pulled, desperately trying to release their grip, but the more he pulled, the more pain ran through his wrists. He gasped at the sharp burns from the metal compressing his skin, and turned his focus to his feet. Chained. He stopped, shivering. He desperately wanted to curl up in a ball, but the chains refused to allow even one wish.
He opened his mouth, realizing exactly how dry it was. The air tasted rank, stale, like his chamber had not been open for years. He whispered a cry, to anyone who could hear. He tried desperately to get louder but his voice protested with a quiet squeak. He was scared, more so than he had ever been.
"Jack..." He spoke very softly, straining his eyes to see anything he could. He was alone, he was scared, and he was hopeless.
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Post by yo on Sept 12, 2015 22:37:59 GMT -5
Shit frenchie says is not in English, obv, i just cannot speak french, Harvey is likely speaking English, though i didnt state that in here. Also, the frenchman in here is not Oliver. He's an underling, as are the others with him, whom are unaware of the circumstances, as far as they are aware, Harvey is just a random ass citizen from Jack's city.
Alrighty, have a blast.
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Harvey comes to slowly, groggily, the ground bucking beneath his body. His head feels split open, so it takes him a moment to notice the world hasn't lightened any for his regaining consciousness. When he flutters his eyes the lashes catch on the strip of thick cloth tied over them. He reaches up to tug the blindfold off and notices the heaviness in them- no, that was metal cutting deep into his wrists. Chained, like a dog.
Dread finds him. Not being able to see is suddenly the worst fate of them all, the world now nothing more than a mess of blackness. Harvey jerks back his head but the blindfold is tied too tightly to dislodge; the sharp movement has his stomach churning with fresh nausea. His lungs demand a deep breath he can't take, not with the second strip of cloth tied over his mouth. The gag sticks to dried lips, making breathing difficult.
There's nothing in the room besides a wooden bucket half-filled with cloudy water a few steps away, he can get to it with the length of the chain. Dead bugs bob at the surface. Harvey grimaces and spoons a few out with his hands before realizing he's only wasting water by splashing it around; who knows how long this one bucket will have to last him? He tears off a strip of fabric from the bottom of his dirty tunic and sets to cleaning the worst of his injuries, hissing with the pain of touching open wounds. He knew, from the countless books he'd read that letting the scratches get infected would leave him little chance of getting away. Whoever left him chained to a wall was unlikely to offer him medical attention. There was nothing he could do about his headache or nose, or all the bruising, but at least he can make sure the gashes don't get infected. He prods at himself, carefully, unsure of what is damaged and what still whole. Nothing besides his nose and maybe a rib seems outright broken, but it hurts to stand for more than a minute and his head is still pounding away.
He allows himself one long drink of brackish water. Then he settles against the wall to wait.
An hour or a day later, a man comes in. Not alone—there's a host of others trailing behind him, one limping with a glower—but he's the only one who does any talking. In French he asks Malik all sorts of questions: who he was, where his friends went, what the King in Rags thinks he's doing harboring war criminals. Did he know his true identity ? Are there others lurking nearby? Where are they going, and how best might they sneak in unexpectedly?
"I don't understand," says Harvey in a thick peasant's accent, again and again. "What? I don't know what you're saying."
He's already decided to pretend not to understand any language save his own. Better they think he's some bumbling fool caught in over his head. It had happened before, in one of his favorite novels, where a character was caught in a similar situation. Plus, maybe they won't be as rough with him if they think there's less to gain. As it is the tall man smacks him around a bit, but not for long. After maybe half an hour of Harvey staring at them in supposed confusion, the men leave. They grumble about the kid being 'as dumb as all the rest', and Harvey hides a glow of pride.
For hours more he's left alone, to sit in the chilly cell and force himself not to take another drink. What if they just leave him here to starve? Isn't there any way to escape? The smell of the place is nauseating; one corner is stained darker than the rest, and a whiff confirms that he won't be taken out to use a bathroom any time soon.
He slips into an uneasy, uncomfortable slumber, wakes up at every outside noise to a world made hazy by his headache, and has to fight for lucidity when he finally gives up on sleep. Even breathing hurts because his chest is a mass of bruises. He moves towards the water bucket but grits his teeth at how long it takes him to manage even those few steps. When he tries a couple laps around the cell, to keep his strength up, he staggers along like a leper with rotting feet.
The man comes back, alone, and asks him the same questions, still in French. Malik sits against the wall and dozes, ignoring him outright. After all, there's nothing to be gained by this one man's appearance; it's when there's a crowd of them, jabbering in a language he supposedly doesn't know, that he can glean bits of information. The Templar sounds more frustrated this time, which brings a bit of a smile to the boy's haggard features. Caught the wrong guy, did you? he thinks, letting his eyes slip shut, never mind that the soldier is still babbling. And meanwhile Jack has escaped the fray, they wouldn't be bothering him if they had caught him. They wouldn't be asking about him if he was-
The Frenchman thumps him on the head with a closed fist. Harvey slides down the wall with a mewl of pain he can't control. His headache, lurking with a steady beat since his arrival, rages up in fresh spikes. The world dims dangerously.
"What roads will the others take?" The man grabs him by the shirtfront with one gloved hand. Harvey doesn't have the strength to break free, and when the other man raises his free hand as if to land another strike the boy instinctively cowers.
"Just answer the questions and save yourself the trouble. You're just a little mouse taking the blame for what the rat does. We don't care about you. Answer the questions and give yourself your liberté."
"Your helmet is stupid," Harvey tells him, knowing the man can't understand, frustration at his situation fueling his words. "Your helmet is stupid and you smell like dead dog. I don't care what you have to say. If you have to keep busy go cry in a corner!"
The man hits him again, but not with any real force. He seems wearied by the whole thing, if his sigh is any indication. Still Harvey falls back, huddled in a little heap of frustration and pain.
"Boy," says the Frenchman, "You bring this on yourself-…"
He reaches out a hand towards Harvey, perhaps to brush away a greasy lock of hair from where it hangs against an open cut on the boy's forehead. Perhaps he does mean to be kind. But Harvey needs none of that kindness. He wants none of it. He wants to go home, to stop being asked questions he doesn't know the answer to. To go to his sister and to Jack and look at lanterns and sing silly songs.
So he jerks himself up and swipes at the Frenchman so that he falls back in surprise. Not unlike a beast, dirty and injured, backed into a corner. But if that's what Harvey is, then it's because he's been forced into it, not because he wanted to.
"Don't touch me," he snarls. "Keep your fat fingers away."
The Man says, "So you're not such a little mouse." He shakes his head. "You're is so deluded. You think you are strong, but the light blinds you, tell your King in Rags that."
From where Harvey is, hunched and coiled, ready for another strike, that sounds a strange thing for the Frenchman to say. But the other is already on his feet, and the boy does not care enough to make him stay.
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