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| No title. |
| (2013-04-06 - Now) |
| No description. |
| Margaux Fleury | The morning after the impromptu party came a little too early for Margaux. Thankfully, there was not any wine to drink last night or the Dancer might truly be hurting. Ramza's faithful troupe had provided her a bedroll so that she had at least -somewhere- to sleep after all that dancing. It was strange sleeping the camp of the person who was responsible for the destruction of the Death Corps. The heretic leader was probably sleeping himself and would be an easy target if not for Artemis. Then again, Margaux was unassure what she would do if the opportunity did present itself for her to carry out the assassination. Would that put the souls of her fallen comrades at ease? Would anything? Such thoughts fill Margaux's head as she stirs from her bedroll and decides that some fresh morning air would do her good. The redhead's hood is pulled up as she steps outside and attempts to wipe some of the sleep out of her eyes. Okay, she was up now. But where to go next? One direction is as good as another and Margaux soon embarks on her way. |
| Ramza Beoulve | The morning after. For mysterious reasons Ramza had slept well that night, without any sort of fitful waking that Artemis might be accustomed to while guarding over his tent. Nor did he wake up at the crack of dawn for their practice session. Opening the flap of his tent, he would step outside, looking bedraggled given that he was still wearing the same tunic and breeches from the night before. Wiping the cobwebs out of his eyes, he'd see the departing, cowled figure. Suspecting who it might be, he'd traipse after her for a short time before hailing her with an affable smile. "Well met." He'd still remain a respectful distance away, just in case she wasn't who he thought she was. |
| Margaux Fleury | Margaux had not anticipated running into the Heretic leader so soon after last night. The dancer turns slightly and reaches up into her hood to adjust her hair idly. She wouldn't be looking her best, but it would have to do. The hood comes down and Margaux is suddenly smiling as she walks over towards Ramza. "Good morn to you, Messire." Margaux gets up on her tiptoes to try look over Ramza's shoulder. "No Madame Mask? Perhaps still a little tired from lastnight, no?" She asks with a fox-like grin as she takes another step forward. "I do hope that you had asked her again for that dance." The young dancer smiles again at Ramza. "But without jest, I did not expect to see anyone up this early. So where are you off to now, Messire?" Ramza being without his bodyguard just might be the stroke of luck that Margaux needed to finish what she came here to do. |
| Ramza Beoulve | The young man would flush in embarassment instantly. "Our /dance/ was more a spar, Margaux. With training swords. It is her way." Ramza would give a noncomittal shrug. "I thought that I might refresh myself at the nearby stream. But are you truly leaving us so soon?" He'd level his gaze at hers. "I was hoping that we might speak in private, on more serious matters." |
| Margaux Fleury | Margaux keeps an amused expression on her face even when Ramza delivers the disappointing news about the current status of his hot romance with Artemis. "A shame," comments the woman lightly. Was Margaux leaving so soon? Well, she certainly had some unfinished business to take care of here before she left. A private talk? Color Margaux interested in where that might lead. "I am all ears, Messire. Lead the way an' I shall follow." She replies with a smile before adding, "I think I can delay my depature for such a thing." |
| Ramza Beoulve | Ramza looked considerably relieved when drops the subject of romance between Artemis and himself. When she asks him to lead the way, he'd walk in front of her, setting a steady pace. He'd give the Watch on the perimeter of the camp an amicable wave, as they passed through the treeline. The stream was perhaps a thousand meters from the camp, at most. When they arrived, he'd take a moment to lean down, to splash water on his face. She'd have ample oppurtunity, if she chose to take it. |
| Margaux Fleury | Margaux coyly smiles at the Watch as they pass on by. Yup! Nothing to see here! Just two teenagers going to the stream while most of the camp is sleeping. Nothing risque or bad can ever happen here. The dancer even does her best to look faintly embarassed as they pass by. On through the other side, the red-head's demeanor changes as night turns into day. This was the moment. She was sure of it. It could be all some sort of elaborate trap to test her true faith in Ramza, but she highly doubted that from what she has seen of the trusting teen so far. They would be mostly alone. But a yell might alert the watchman that something was amiss and not in a good way. Margaux would have to work quickly and efficiently. Gently, the Fencer draws her rapier from its sheath and follows Ramza down towards the water. When he goes to splash water on his face, Margaux raises her rapier in preparation. Was this what the Death Corps glorious revolution came down too? Attempting to slaughter someone not much younger than she was in mostly cold blood? Blue eyes close as she remembers the faces of those who were not there anymore. "Messire Murderer, you should be more careful with whom who wander into the woods with." |
| Ramza Beoulve | As she spoke, the young man wouldn't actually even look up. He was watching her reflection in the stream's clear waters. To his credit, his voice was quite calm as he responded. "So this is it then? You intend to venge poor Milleuda, and your comrades? Blood for blood?" A pause, though he still kept watch upon her reflection in the streambed. "I'm ready to die for my past regrets, if need be, but my death will avail you naught, for I'm noone of worth. Simply a fool man, who couldn't stand idly by while people died on the whims of a select few." A brief sigh. "So do it. Give the Church what they want. I pray that in time you realize the folly of throwing in the lot of the Corpse Brigade with them, before any of your people are sacrificed as pawns on the whim of Lucavi. It is what they will need in time. A sacrifice of blood from your folk, so that everyone will proffer to the Church, for an end to the madness of war." |
| Margaux Fleury | "Do not think that this is such an easy matter to dismiss," says Margaux lowly as she keeps her weapon brandished. "The Death Corps gave me my life back. They were my rescue, my resurrection, even my savior from the lot that 'fate' had 'anded me in this life." The fencer takes a step forward now. "And now? What do you think they are now? A pale imitation of the group that we once were." The Death Corps member now wears a scowl on her face as she carefully edges even closer. "We are no agents of Church and the Death Corps is not afraid to spill blood if need be. Our grim name refers to our determination to carry out our goals." But does that mean she was willing to stab someone in the back? "As I said before, I owe the Death Corps my life. I will carry out their will. So stand!" Her rapier cuts through air idly so that it makes a faint swish sound as she does so. "Face me now, Messire Destroyer." While her words may seem harsh, her voice is shaken even as she attempts to give the commands. |
| Ramza Beoulve | His voice was still entirely calm, as he remained bent over the stream. "An easy matter to dismiss? Do you think so little of me? Truly? Its not a debt I could repay, whether I lived for two more seconds, or eighty years. But I would still like to make the attempt" He takes another deep breath. "And they were the death of a poor girl named Tietra. A commoner who they mistook as a noble. My friend. Had Gragoroth not thought to make ransom of noncombatants, I would have withdrawn from the field that day. What was I to do? /Abandon/ her? I could no sooner do that, than you can your comrades." She'd edge closer, but still, he wouldn't rise. "You owe them your life, but not your death. So live, Margaux. Truly live." A faint swishing sound, but he'd see in the reflection that it was meant as a feint, to get him to rise. "No. Do what you came to do. May Alma forgive me for failing her." |
| Margaux Fleury | Ramza's unwillingness to face her was infuriating. It would have made this all easier. She would have accomplished her mission, avenged her fallen comrades, and then been able to return to them. But what then? Would she fill fufilled and happy? Would they? Alma. If Margaux kills Ramza, then would Alma be just like Wiegraf? Would she simply be repeating the cycle over and over again? All of these questions that are running through her head were almost as infuriating as Ramza's unwillingness to confront her directly. The Death Corps member looks down at the weapon in her hands. More specifically, her blue eyes focus on the Phoenix on its hilt. The creature was known for its miraculous ability to rise from the dead, to be born again. She was given this weapon when she was 'rescued' by the Death Corps and she has cherished the weapon ever since. Margaux de Fleury's sword hand grows limp and she turns her back on Ramza now. She can't do it. She had failed in her task even though it would have been simple for her to succeed. For the first time in this encounter, Margaux is at a loss for words. |
| Ramza Beoulve | Margaux would hear a sound, and if she'd bothered to look, it would be Ramza unbuckling both the baldrics of his blades, letting them fall to the shore of the stream. He'd circle to her front at a safe distance, so that he'd be within Margaux's field of vision, then he'd slowly approach her. He offered no explanation, no words. If she didn't make a threat towards him, he would walk closer to her, before placing his hand over her hilt, and moving to resheathe her rapier within its own scabbard. And then he'd just look her in the eyes, waiting patiently for her to speak. He didn't say aught else. He had no semblance of an idea of what she might be thinking. |
| Margaux Fleury | Margaux is still running though the gauntlet of emotions as she stands there with her sword still drawn. Ramza circles around her and the Dancer finally takes her eyes off the hilt of her blade. She's sees Ramza coming, but she doesn't make any hostile movements towards him. In fact, she doesn't really move at all. There is a slight flinch from her when he assists her in sheathing her rapier, but the weapon is returned to its proper place soon enough. She now looks eye to eye with the Heretic. It would not be difficult now to see the whirlwind state of emotion that Margaux was now it. The Death Corps member eventually does find her voice. "And as one person often says to another; What now, messire?" |
| Ramza Beoulve | The young man would place a hand upon her shoulder reassuringly. "What will make you happy Margaux? Truly happy. That is what you need to ask yourself. Whether you wish to be a simple dancer, a Death Corps Knight, a liasion to the Church, another heretic trying to to do some good for this world, filled with darkness, or just yourself, a fine young Lady who has so much life left before her." He'd manage a wan smile. "You met Will already, he gave me this advice. No matter how dark the world becomes. Even if all all that I can behold is an endless umbra, then to search for the light. It may be a flickering candle flame that is destined to be smothered it if not nurtured. It may not exist at all. But still, I will search for it." He'd look regard her with a gaze that held no judgement whatsoever. "And so I will see the light in you. If it pleases you, then leave. If you desire to stay, then stay. If you want to talk, then speak freely to me, and I will listen. Even if all you wish to do is judge me. What has happened here, and all that you might say to me will be between you, and me, and noone else." |
| Margaux Fleury | Margaux is unsure of what she truly wants to be. It was not dancing itself which she hated. It was who they performed for and how her and the other performers were often treated. But, it was not just them. Every place they performed, they just need to look at the servants to know that their lives were not much grander than theirs. And yet, pointless wars were still waged and it was their blood that was spilled. The red-haired woman turns away from Ramza now and walks over towards the stream herself. She crouches low to the ground and it is her who splashes water on her face. "I had intended to kill you from the very start," says Margaux in a tired sounding voice. "But you still live and my blade is now sheathed. I do not like killing, I never did." The Death Corps member goes on to admit as turns back to face Ramza. "I do not know if I can even go back now. I am unsure if my place is even there. Perhaps if Messire Folles...." Margaux shakes her head now. "I am lost, Messire Destroyer. And in the company of the person with whom I betrayed their trust and plotted against. Why would you want me to stay here?" |
| Ramza Beoulve | "Then that is some common ground that we can build something lasting upon, at least. I've seen enough death in my life Margaux. And I've seen how it twists the hearts of the living." He too, sounded quite fatigued. "Why indeed?" He would walk over towards her, sitting on the stream's shore beside her. "....because in the end, you stayed your blade. Everything else matters naught to me. As I've told you before many times, actions are what define us. And you chose not to act when you had the oppurtunity." He pauses for a time. "It is a risk, certainly, to keep you here but...I think it would sadden me very much, if I became so cynical that I could not offer anyone a second chance. As I said before, it would remain between you and me, unless you chose to tell the others." He'd gaze upwards towards the canopy, and the morning sky. "You met Katyna if I remember correctly. Her real name is Kityana Redsdottr. While her tale is not mine to tell, she did terrible things. Far worse than anything you did or might have done to me, unto good people. When I found her, she was half dead from exposure and nearly run to the ground by her former masters. She made no secret of what she'd done. She told me that she desired a second chance, redemption. She didn't ask for it from me, in fact, she fled as she desired to protect me from the consequences of her actions. She collapsed in the desert. Knowing all that I know of her, I gave her a second chance." He'd turn to look at her in the eyes once more. "I'm not saying that you require redemption. Your tale is dissimilar from hers, and I can't fault you for wanting to kill me. I don't want to die, but I face the possibility of death each day without hesitation. I can offer you another path, a different one from what you're used to.. I'm not a revolutionary, I don't think I can change the world, but I aim to protect people who are simple dancers, farmers, servants, and yes, innocents, from the select few who would have them suffer and die on a whim." And now to address Wiegraf. "If Ser Folles wishes to venge Milleuda, then I cannot fault him either. He will come to me, and test the resolve of his dream, and his bond to his sister, against my own. If you see him again, and wish to return to him.. then you may go with my blessing." He takes a deep breath. "All of this amounts to naught, as in the end, there's one reason above aught else that I would want you to stay. I see a Lady who wishes to do some good for the world, before she passes on. I see a Lady who is willing to challenge even her own ideals, if she sees evidence that perhaps, they are wrong. And I need people like that in my company. I need people who are willing to keep me grounded to the plight of those ruined by people who abuse their power, who challenge my decisions if they believe they are wrong." Another pause. "And while I may /need/ you for that reason, I want you here because I'd like very much to try and be your friend." |
| Margaux Fleury | Margaux could be snide and pick apart certain parts of Ramza's speech to her, but she no longer wishes to. Both the playfulness and the fury from before are replaced by a somewhat exhausted look on the woman's face. This encounter was very taxing on her and this was written all over Margaux's face. "I need time to think about this," says Margaux noncommitedly as she takes a stone and sends it flying across the top of the water. "The Death Corps always fought for the people. No one else was doing such a thing back then." She takes a deep breath before continuing, "I do not want to give up their ideals. Although, it might not conflict with what you are trying to accomplish." The comment about Milleuda and Wiegraf. "Just know that Messire Folles may still come looking for you one day as that business remains unfinished." Margaux turns towards her once enemy again now. "I will stay -my- own hand. You...were not the person whom I had expected you to be. You have already surprised me in several ways." The dancer casts a glance downwards to the top of her boots. "And it would be quite unbecoming for friends to try to kill each other, no?" |
| Ramza Beoulve | He had once been the youngest son of the Beoulve family, now he was something far different. The man he had been might have rejected her outright, telling her that she could live honestly only to die in her bed, rather than upon his sword. The man he became, would stand instead, walk over to her, and place his arms around her in an embrace. There was nothing flirtatious, or lecherous about it. He just felt that she might need a hug from a friend. "Then don't give up on their ideals. Take all the time you need to think on this. And whether you decide to return to us or not, and no matter what you decide that you wish to become...know that you're always welcome here." He'd take off an earpiece over his ear. She might realize that he had a Ma Belle radio this entire time, but had chosen not to use it, though he could have easily warned everyone in his camp to come running to his defense. Instead, he'd give it to her. "That has our frequency upon it. So that you might always know where we are, you need only ask me." |