Completed Anger, As Soon As Fed - Is Dead

[Ricky Maze]

Anger, As Soon As Fed - Is Dead Winter 36, 512 AV; 16th Bell It was finally that time of the day, in which this sea bear finally found that his post was relieved. Dressed in the uniform of the city guard Ricky was happy to finally be able to go home, if that was what he could call it. Sure enough it was temporary but the cottage Hadrian provided was simply too much. Far too much of a kind gesture, but nonetheless proved just how much of a friend he was to Ricky. The guard had to stand and watch the bustle and crowd that passed through the fish market, provided that nothing suspicious happened it was a daily routine Ricky enjoyed. Being on post made it easier to keep out the other thoughts, the ones that haunted the mind just as the plague haunted the citizens. It was getting to the point where panic was rising, and sure enough Zeltiva was already in panic. Where Ricky was now was between East and West street, making his way near the University. His mind tired from standing guard since the tenth bell, he could do with some much needed sleep. There was little of it now that he had to be wary of what went on around him, especially with a murderer still on the loose. Zeltiva had plenty to fear when night came, and the Guard had to step up their game as far as duties went. Had Ricky been able to stop the event he would, but he was too late when he arrived. Always late with something, whether it was a dog saving his ass or a fellow guard on patrol. 'Where has this city gone?' He thought to himself. The way he remembered the city he grew up in there was always peace, a time that was always quiet as the city continued on with its routine of daily life. Now there was the plague at hand and then a murder to come along, with a clear intent message to the city. That message shattered the very image Ricky had, and made the memory feel as though he looked at an illusion during those days. Back then when he was young everything was all simple, unlike now where as he had next to nothing. No house, no family, no dream, and worst of all no answers. It was a truth he wished banished like the reality he lived in now, but doesn't everybody in this world. 'Must be part of gettin old.' He humored himself, but the chuckle never came.

[Philomena]

It was mid-afternoon in the University Forum - the weather was almost bearable outside. Almost. The wind was slow today, unusual for winters at the maw of the great harbor, especially here atop the Uni hill, but the air still bit irritably at the tips of noses, the corners of ears. Minnie, like a wise Zeltivan of experience, thus kept hers covered. Her face was bundled into a long scrap of flannel wrapped scarfwise around her, her hands wore a pair of old woolen gloves.

There was a piece of street theater occuring in the snow of the forum - normally this might attract more notice, might gather a crowd, for the street theater of the artistes and Bohemians of the city is well known for being... well not good, necessarily, but always shocking, and what gathers a crowd more than that? But the plague, still not the fully boiled stew it would become in just a few days time wtih the announcement by Maria, had already crawled into the paranoia of men's thoughts. The crowd, such as it was, was a smattering of students, passers-by, none standing too close, all looking leerily at the others, watching for sniffles, for feverish eyes, for signs that whisper 'stay far from me, for I'm catching.'

Minnie wasn't catching. Her eyes were red, but it was the red rims of exhaustion, not of sickness. She had the stiffness of carriage that spoke of someone who had perhaps stayed up too late for her tiny, old body to yet have recovered properly, the marks of a fitful sleep.

The performers moved in silence - the street theater was apparently a pantomime. There were four, two of them wearing stylized 'lovers' masks, and the third in a great black cowl, carrying the skeleton mask of 'death' before his face. The fourth stood to the side, a wax tablet in hand - a recitationist, more than likely. The lovers cowered back, as death waved a threatening long hand over them, but avoided his touch. Death then opened the wing of his cloak, and within, on the lining of the cloak in scarlet letters was clearly printed the words 'Pestilence. Death and the cowering lovers froze in tableau, and the recitationist stepped forward, speaking in a (perhaps somewhat overacted) deep baritone.

"Death comes, and Love dances,
And it cannot pierce her artifice.
Death opens up her cloak, and sets free the breath of pestilence -
You cannot dance with plague,
Ye children of Love"

Minnie sighed, and shrugged, //Even,// she thought, //The artists are empty these days. Zeltiva, she is dying.//

The thought of it, and the gloomy air of the crowd, and her own tiredness, set her eyes off, and soon a few tears were leaking unattractively out of her eyes. She turned away. Just as well do something useful. She drew from her bag, her own wax tablet.

"Kip Drawlins…" she murmured under her breath, "Kip Drawlins was a paragon of the virtues of the Wave Guard."

Her voice had the artificial cant of prepared recitation, and she frowned irritably at her own words.

[Ricky Maze]

There seemed to be a performance or some sort of event Ricky was unaware of, considering he lived fairly close to the grounds, at the University. The gathering of a crowd suggested as much and although Ricky thought it best to simply head home, a gathering such as this could do with at least a simple observation. Duty never seemed to wait for its next call it seems. When he came closer he found there were artists performing their craft upon stage, although with this cold air that clung around with its chillimg grip their act didn't seem as lively as ever. That and the plague was still fresh in the minds of Zeltiva's fair inhabitants. The troubles that would indeed haunt everyone had already began causing a stir, and it would be soon this chaos erupted within Zetiva's core. Turmoil wasn't an idea Ricky felt to fond off, but in this dark cloud that hung over the fair city he was ready. Someone had to be strong for these citizens, had to do something and make a difference. Ricky didn't feel capable enough to be that person, but by Laviku he was going to do his best to try. The people all were watching but it was clear to see their minds weren't as involved in the act. They were more aware of each other, all at a small distance from one another to avoid the chance of catching the disease; especially from those who were beginning to show symptoms. "Kip Drawlin... Kip Drawlins was a paragon of the virtues of the Wave Guard." A voice had murmured next to him, Ricky looked to find that it was a woman. One who looked exhausted but not sick, at least not yet, like the others. A scholar or professor perhaps, the likelyhood of it very possible. Yet what she said was more than true. Kip was a family man as well as a well loved friend, even when Ricky didn't rightly know him he felt bad. Worse actually. Not only did Ricky lose a close companion but now a death of a fellow brother had passed. The night still fresh in his mind from the moment he arrived, Ricky felt he had failed Kip as well as the Guard when the event played out. Funny. Zeltiva was always a place where trouble seemed little, and now the Winter came with its darkest cloud to follow. "He was always a great guy." He mumbled just loud enough for her to hear, unaware though that she would be listening. "I just wish I could've saved him." He admitted his regret, but the force of anger was no longer as strong as it was before. It was weaker now, only irritation loomed around now with the inevitable waves of despair. Hope was getting harder to come by the more this season passed.

[Philomena]

The woman was a little blind to begin with, and focused on her tablet, so the voice came as a start to her. She turned quickly to look up at the man, then involuntarily stepped back - in Zeltiva, a man with a sword, Wave Guard or otherwise, was something a native might treat with a bit of leeriness.

"Oh... I'm... excuse me, I'm sorry, sir... I... you knew, him, Mr. Drawlins?"

Her eyes were not at all subtle in their glances at the sword-hilt, at the wave-guard crest. Her own hands quietly closed the tablet, and put it in her satchel, strapping the flap shut. To say that she was a bigot would be unfair - it would be kinder to the timid thing to point out that she, after all, grew up in a milieu where she and most of her friends were just barely to the left of the law. Years of a Wave Guard's presence being a sign of trouble, or at least of losing the dinner one had so cautiously (and illicitly) acquired, could perhaps be ameliorated by age and years on the right hand side of respectability, but the instinct could not be entirely quashed. Her hands crept over the bag protectively, even as her face attempted the sort of mildly grovelling respect that one reserves for those that one fears mroe than one loves.

[Ricky Maze]

"Oh... I'm... excuse me, I'm sorry, sir... I... you knew, him, Mr. Drawlins?" The lady seemed to feel troubled by Ricky's presence, although he could not have guessed her reason for the intimidation. "Not directly. I was the second guard to arrive at the..." He didn't wish to bring unease, certainly not when a crowd was all gathered. There would be questions and questions would lead to an overwhelmed defender of the city, and Ricky preferred to avoid such a troubling scene. "Well let's just say I wasn't able to protect him, even when we we're on the same route." He felt ashamed having to admit that, even with a lowered voice to bring about attention. He finally managed to observe the lady that stood near him, under her brown hair there was age but wisdom. Even if she was a bit on the small side compared to him, she still had a look about her he immediately knew. Universitarian. Or so that was the term that fit them. The scholars and researchers that all gathered to learn under one forum. Ricky had to admit even he thought of it a few times. He knew not why but there was a sort of edge in the air, perhaps an air that wasn't just cold but alert. Aware that trouble could be around, such trouble was what he didn't want to be in the air. He wanted to at least provide ease to the mind, to make the people feel safe and secure even in the dark times.

[Philomena]

Minnie frowned, and wrinkled her brow, shook her head, "You were... you saw him?" she blushed hard, obviously embarrased for some reason. "Do you... do you know his family, any chance?"

Her hands fiddle nervously with her bag, obviously in a defensive - or more frightened - stance, but her neck cranes slightly, signaling a willingness to risk conversation wtih the imposing fellow. Not that her eyes leave the man's sword for too long, mind you.

"I... I'm only a professor, but... the University, it wants to offer some words at... at the funeral... I... they appointed me... me, Qalaya knows why. They tell me he was married, with a child. I feel... as if I will strike her false, up there pontificating over her husband like some oration in a play."

[Ricky Maze]

"Apologies Miss, I'm afraid I don't know his family. Alas I wish I could've made a difference for him before the bastard killed him." His disdain expression was present when he mentioned the murderer, the sick twisted idea to send such a violent message was despicable. It made Ricky furious to believe that such a fiend still hasn't been caught yet, it was just a matter of time though before he was found. There were only so many places to hide in Zeltiva. Ricky then took notice of the woman's stare, it was one that indeed showed frightened eyes. A sort of fear that he wished to remove by any means possible. "Are ye alright lass? I'm here to protect and serve, so there's nothin to be nervous about." He looked sincere to her, and hoped that would be enough to lighten the pressure that seemed to evelope the two of them. He could tell there was tension by watching her, but not too closely, fiddle with the bag she had. The obvious sign that a person felt nervous so to speak, one he at least found to be a common sign amongst people.

[Philomena]

The woman drummed her fingers nervously, her discomfort increasing seeing disdain, anger enter the fellow's face.

//Och, yes, he says protect and serve, that's what they told us when we were girls to. Serve to snatch you up and clink you, that's what serve is...// her child brain murmured to her, even as the adult brain murmured to the child brain to just calm down, that she was not worth clinking anymore, now.

She frowned, now, trying to find how to be polite, all of a sudden. //Change the subject, Minnie Lefting. Change the subject.//

"Yes, yes, fine, I'm sorry, I was... startled, 'sall. You are a swordsman, then, sir?" The words came out with a certain vague dislike, around the word 'sword' which she stretched unconsciously into something sinister and unpleasant. She blushed immediately. //PLAN the subject before you change it, Minnie, you petching shyte-head...//

[Ricky Maze]

"Yes, yes, fine, I'm sorry, I was... startled, 'sall. You are a swordsman, then, sir?" She looked rather calm now, but the same tension from before could still be felt in the air. Ricky looked at the longsword at his hip, where his bad habit of a hand rested on the hilt without notice. It was then he finally connected dots and realized why the tension was around. His first idea was to cross his arms and continue the conversation with a friendly smile. "I'm not much of a swordsman. I can put up a fight when I need to, other then that I only stick to defending what I have to. Which is the city mainly, with a killer on the loose we have to be ready. In case he tries anything else." He wanted to seem determined, but if anything he felt unconfident. Two deaths he could've prevented had he been given the chance, and yet you look at him now and he no doubt looks incapable of doing anything. "Rest assured he'll be caught before we know it, and then the city can relax. We're not lettin a menace like that get away for sure."

[Philomena]

"Rest assured," the man says, "He'll be caught before we know it."

The words pound into Minnie's skull, and she wrinkles her brow, darkly, stepping a few unconscious steps back from the man. Her head tips down, now, her lips moving, but no sound coming out.

//There is... a man dead... and the plague.. and... and. Weak. Weak, like Vayt, would say. Or have his... no, no, no...//

"Lanie..." she murmurs very low and soft, "Oh, Lanie... it was..."

And then she grows utterly silent, staring down at her feet, her face suddenly frozen on itself, her mind broken for a moment. Her eyes dance in the sockets, and her hands grip together, so tight the knuckles turn white. The condition lasts for at least a full minute, if she is not interrupted.