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| No title. |
| (2013-02-17 - 2013-04-15) |
| No description. |
| Margaux Fleury | Who knew that some nobles from her own world would be so bitterly enraged over a little redistribution of wealth? They were all refugees here, but some were able to take more from their own worlds than others. And some were not be able to take anything at all. The Death Corps were merely equalizing things a bit. It was the fair thing to do. The culprits behind this theft scattered in all different directions and Margaux was thankful that her pursuers wore such heavy armor. This gave her quite the advantage when it came to running away. But they just seemed to be everywhere. In fact, it was perhaps a bit too convient that they had so many guards nearby. All Margaux could do was pray that her compatriots were as quick as her and continue to flee. But then, she saw it. An odd brick building on the side of the street that only had a few people coming and going form it. This place was perfect. Panting as she enters through the doorway leading outside, Margaux ducks swiftly off to the side and removes her black, hooded cloak. The garment is flipped around to reveal a bright blue opposite side to it which Margaux quickly dons. She then stands up straight, pulls down the cloth in front of her face, and undoes her bun to let her red hair down. A quick few adjustments are made to ensure everything was in the right place and it is only after this that Margaux realizes where she was. A church? How unexpected. Curiously, the now changed woman takes a few steps down the center aisle. This place was oppulent. Perhaps they would not miss a few missing statues here and there? The woman cringes slightly to have such thoughts in this place and soon adopts a friendly smile as if she was not planning to rob this place. First, she should see if anyone else was here. "Hello? Good afternoon?" queries Margaux lightly as she looks around for the sight or sound of anyone else present. |
| Faruja Senra | As Margaux steps into the Church's aisle, she may just be able to pick out the tail end of a conversation from one of the side rooms, the door left partially ajar. "...still you silly Knight! I swear, you lot are stubborn to the core! /There/! All tied up and clean. What /ever/ caused such a burn? 'Tis unnatural, it is!" Comes a rather irritated feminine voice. The one that follows it Margaux may recognize from the little fiasco at Fluorgis...or the maid cafe! "Do not bother overmuch, dear Sister. Merely magefire." Returns the other masculine voice as it's owner opens the side door, holding it for a robed Priestess human to exit. Turning about to one Templar Faruja Senra, clad today in a pair of slacks and muscle shirt given the rather copious amounts of bandages on his back, she crosses her arms and shakes her head. "...Magefire my ar...ahh!" The Priestess whirls around to Margaux, and plasters a smile upon her face. A bow. "The Heavenly Father bless you, Miss! If I may be of service...or this horrible Knight may be...do say so, my Child!" Faruja frowns at the Priestess, but then offers a bow. "Welcome M'Lady to this House of the Lord." He offers, before one ear perks. "Mmm...pardon. You...seem familiar, however, I cannot quite recall where. Hath the good Lord granted us the honor of meeting before, oh dear Lady?" |
| Margaux Fleury | At the first sound of voices, Margaux ducks into the nearest pew. She quickly kneels, lowers her head, and outstretches her hands together. Her head slowly so that she can try to hear what is being said in the other room. A red colored brow is raised as she overhears selective parts of the conversation between an unknown person and a voice that is very familiar. When they enter into the main room, Margaux once more bows her head in deference while keeping her praying position. This allows her to pretend to just be finishing with her prayer when she is approached by the most righteous duo. She returns a bow towards them and smiles amiably. "We fought alongside each other back in Fluorgis." Her nasally pronounciation of the name of the city is quite something to behold. "And I must ask, do you have kin that works at the Maid Cafe? You bare a striking resemblance to one of the maids there, perhaps a sister that works there?" Margaux de Fleury flashes a knowing smile towards the pair as she awaits their answer. She pauses only briefly before gesturing to herself, her blue cloak swaying slightly to reveal her weapon of choice inadvertantly. "My name is Marguerite de Fleury, but we were not in such a situation last time where formal introductions could easily have been made." |
| Faruja Senra | One ear slowly tilts. Fluorgis. Female. Obvious warrior with good manners. Faruja's muzzle is half way to a warm and welcoming smile before she mentions the cafe. The ratling freezes mid-smile, the whole of his face glowing red beneath white fur. At his side, the Priestess covers her mouth. Vibrate. Twitch. Snicker. Snicker snicker. "Ohhhh, my! So the rumors /are/ true. Why, dear Templar Senra, from the photos I've seen being passed around you look most fetching in that lovely little pink mai..." The poor Templar by now is looking everywhere except the duo of Priestess and Corpse Brigader, a handkerchief covering his nosebleed. They recognized him. Oh Faram, and people are passing around /pictures/! "I...It was for a good cause, you know! Nothing more! I...I utterly did /not/ enjoy serving others their meals!" Quickly returns the ratling. Perhaps he missed his calling! That flush remainds, as his mind turns back to his closet at the Shard Seeker's HQ. Yup, someone kept the outfit. Ahem! Faruja nods to the name, and goes about the crossing of his chest with as much dignity as he can muster after it being tossed neatly out the window last night. He'll have nightmares of frills for ages! "Temple Knight Faruja Senra of the Most Holy Church, at thy service, Dame de Fleury. Well met. Yes, I quite remember you now. A rare show of bravery to assault such Abominations as the Heartless, and their hume master so openly." There's an honest note of respect here, before his eye roams her appraisingly. That weapon is noticed, but he doesn't say a thing for now. "And to see a member of your...organization...that is so pious does my heart joy. I trust any wounds that hath touched thy body are healed?" The Priestess bows as well, before stepping into the back to clean up. Seems she's leaving things here with Faruja for the moment. That door is finally closed properly. |
| Margaux Fleury | "Oh! It was -you- in the maid cafe!" exclaims Margaux playfully with an outstretched finger being placed against the side of her face. Her tell that she is merely playing along in good fun. "I am sure it was!" She goes on to say with a fox-like smile creeping across her face. "Next time, feel free to ask for some advice. I used to have wear some..elaborate costumes myself when I was still a member of a dance troupe and I know a few tricks to prevent..." Margaux mimes as if she was lifting her imaginary skirt in the front "....accidents from happening." A finger is now pressed against freshly pursed lips. "Unless that was your inte't?" A mischevious grin makes its way across Margaux's face now. A much more serious look and nod is used after Faruja introduces himself and speaks of the battle they both fought in. "Many forget that most conflicts affect those who have the least to lose and even less to give. I felt for the common folk of Fluorgis as did those with whom I serve." Margaux makes a gesture know as if she had drawn her sword. "-The Heartless-" She begins with venom being injected to those words. "Are even worse than the most uncaring nobility when it comes to preying upon the poor, the weak, and the scared." Her imagined weapon is now abandoned when Faruja mentions her organization. "There are many pious within are ranks and some even feel that they are doing his work by fighting the 'good fight'." Margaux shrugs her shoulders slightly before placing a hand on the front of her coat of plates. "I, myself, just think that sometimes a strong shepard is needed to protect the flock." Her blue eyes focus now on the Templar. "But, I also think that you already know this too, Messire Senra." |
| Faruja Senra | It might be hard to see much white in the red that is Faruja's face and ears as Margaux speaks about her tips. And then the insinuation! The short Burmecian's tail curls about his leg in embarrassment, the poor thing looking mortified. He's silent for a long moment, before it all breaks, and he simply laughs nervously. There's even a slight grin. For all that it was embarrassing, knowing he's helped the poor and displaced is a thing of pride for the Templar. Plus, he got to see a certain wolfess, and the desire to be in /her/ company is always in his thoughts. "Then, dear Lady, I shall be certain to seek thy advice lest my maidenly honor is soiled once more!" Chuckles out the Templar as his blush slowly subsides, business coming to them. A nice ice breaker, even if he'll be lingering red for a while. A hand is gestured towards the pews, the ratling waiting for Marg to sit before he himself takes one. "When the blades of noble knights spill the enemy's blood, and the snapping of Abominable jaws clasp 'round the throat of the Faithful, 'tis the most meager whom are slain. Yes. Yes, 'tis the true tragedy. Others may rebuild, move on. But what recourse doth the orphaned child have, but the prospect of death or a life of thievery? I know naught whether 'tis a blessing or curse to survive beasts that rip away the lives of all they find. Hmph. However, so too must we be wary of all races' schemes. For mortals, fools and Heretics, oft seek to use such abominations for their own gain." A shake of the head. His mind recalls his own people's neglect of the poor, and his clawed hand clenches briefly. Damn nobles, and the 'good' King, fleeing while the common nezumi died to the jaws of beasts. As the talk turns to the 'good fight', the rat's single eye casts about. They're alone. Cautious in these sorts of things, he even resorts to sniffing the air visibly. Definitely alone. Aside from a crash in the back room, and an irritated Priestess. Faruja hides a smile. "Lord bless those whom fight for others rather than themselves. Truly, such men and women of all races I would call Brother or Sister were they to hold the Saint and Holy Faram within their hearts. A shepard you say, mmm?" Slowly, the rat nods, legs crossed and tail lounging at the empty space beside him. "Quite. No matter how lofty and noble one's goals, without a leader to guide and the means to enact one's goals, 'tis useless as a practical matter." A pause, and a tilt of the head. "...However, when one personally lacks such things, it may be wise to turn to those whom see the value of one's ideals, and happen to possess such things. The Lord grants all holy and noble endeavors a path to righteous ends, though oft they are littered with jagged stone, fire, and glass." |
| Margaux Fleury | "There are also such things as butlers, armsmen, squires and other -male- serving staff," coos Margaux simply with that fox-like grin reappearing on her face. "You need not dress as a woman, but such is life. One must stand by their decisions, no?" The blushing Templar was something to behold. She has made people blush before, but not that many within the Church. It was somewhat exciting to do and to do it so innocently without much effort on her part. The offered seat in the pew is taken and Margaux gingerly crosses her legs even though she need not with what she was wearing. She does have to pay particular attention to how her rapier sits as pews were not really made to be sat in while armed. Her previous activites are all but forgotten except for a casual glance over her shoulder now and then. She had outpaced them near the end and pehaps she had truly lost them. And so Margaux de Fleury, or Pearl of the Flower as her name translates to, decides that she had some time to speak with Messire Zealot a little longer. That is if he was to speak with her and not simply levy a sermon on her. The dancer nods her head in contemplation when Faruja too seems cautious about who is around. Hmmmm. "The fight is not an easy one without stalwart allies and friends. Even to have a place where one could find sanctuary in a time of need." Margaux says lightly of some of the current issues that the Death Corps faces. "And after this....rapture of worlds....our numbers have been scattered when we already fighting a war that seemed like we were to be the losers no matter how hard we fought." The redheaded woman grows more somber and serious as she speaks on and on about her order. But finally, a smile. "And yet, we knew what we were getting into. One does not name a group as we have without expecting certain sacrifices to be made and hardships to be endured." Faruja's final words causes Margaux to look towards the seated Templar in renewed interest. "I would be most pleased to meet others who share our ideals. However..." Margaux shrugs. "....my first few attempts to contact other groups of perhaps kindred spirits ended in absolute failure." |
| Faruja Senra | Faruja's muzzle briefly shows sharp, well-maintained teeth as he wets his muzzle lightly. One ear is slightly tilted in thought as he listens to the Brigader next to him, tail-tip flicking in that erratic way that shows a Burmecian in deep thought. He takes a deep, calming breath, and lets it out. One part of him wishes to draw spear beside the woman. Another part knows better. Like a proper Ajoran, he compromises and plots. "In such a scattering and influx of worlds comes difficulty...and opportunity. Privately..." A muzzle leans just a touch closer, his voice dropping. "I know well the depravity of Ivalice's nobility. Many within the Church share thy concerns, and indeed, ideals. Even we nezumi are not free of such greed and...taint. Nay. Nay, dear Dame Fluery, 'twould not be an exaggeration to say the whole of the worlds are corrupt to the core, the common person, human, viera, bangaa, Burmecian alike...suffering beneath the bootheel of the callous, uncaring elite. Heresy and injustice surround us, and Darkness encroaches. As things stand, we are neutral in all political matters." A pause, and the rat nods at the look of interest. "However, a Witch is a Witch, a Heretic a Heretic. My oaths as a Templar bid me fight Heartless and Heretic, be they highborn or low, and all whom would use them. Should said Heretics be...oh, the General of Alexandria, or the Vanguard of Baron, well...to find those brave enough to fight them would be a boon. Or their underlings. Until an outward threat to the Faithful arises, politics keeps my blade sheathed. To draw the ire of a nation to innocent persons cannot be done by the Church as an organization." Another glance about, and a smirk. "...That said, all are welcome within the house of the Lord. We /are/, after all, neutral. How could we turn away pious souls, bereft of food and bed should they show themselves upon our doors, hmm? 'Twould be a crime against the will of Saint Ajora. Ahh, and but with a few misplaced words or parchment bungles, whom could say where an unmarked shipment of blade or armor may end up, dissappearing into the night as though it never existed. Pity, hmm?" Comes the rat quietly, suggestively. "...As for the Shard Seekers, here. 'Tis the address of our Headquarters. Speak with Reize Seatlan or Ivo Galvan. Such contacts are oft about timing. We've a free bed or two to a good soul willing to fight those whom would fight the Heartless that beleaguer our city. And truly would we take up jobs, from any source, that would help the city. However. Know ye well, M'Lady, many within the Shard Seekers are children yet. They are /dear friends/. Many as close as kin. May I trust a noble blade as one that would fight by Ser Folles, a human I admire as much as Lord Iron-Tail himself, to not endanger them overmuch? I ask you this as Faruja Senra, unarmored and without title of Knighthood. I care for them deeply." The appeal is honest, and even with a hint of worry. He knows the dangers involved with groups such as Marg's. A parchment with the address of HQ is given to her. A nod. "...When the time comes, and openly shall the Church move against the twin Heretical nations of Baron and Alexandria, 'twould be an honor to fight by thy side, if the Brigade would join us." |
| Margaux Fleury | If only Faruja and Margaux both knew how far the corruption of certain knightly orders and Ivalice's church went. There were not just class problems in that land, but a growing darkness that so far lacked many the heroes to fight against it. For now, it was only the Death Corps who stood in opposition to these corrupt elites. How long they will be able to last was not something that Margaux knew or could foresee. Maybe a new set of heroes will come one day or maybe the Death Corps will rise like a rebirthed phoenix. It was all in God's, Fate's, or Destiny's hands now. "You speak with the same tongue as one of most devout members would use." Margaux observes amusedly of the Church Templar as she leans back in the church pew. The former dancer nods her head when Faruja speaks of neutrality. "Such words are not unexpected as we have heard them often. The price of neutrality can be a damning one though. Eventually, everyone must take a side." A true revolutionary demands no less. But it seems that all is not lost as Faruja speaks of proposed shelter and maybe even more. "Not everyone is ready or able to raise their banners quite yet. Any sort of assistance would not be forgotten within our ranks. You would have our heart-felt admiration if you would indeed show such courage in these times to help our cause." Margaux goes on to say with a sly smile on her lips. The smile all but disappears when Faruja talks about the Shard Seekers. "The burden that we carry, that -I- carry is too great to ask children to fight for the cause even if it is in a contract." Turning slightly to glance off at one of the stained glass windows, Margaux grows silent for a moment. "Yes, some of us are barely older than mere children ourselves. However, our enemies are great and would not show mercy to those who oppose them....no matter their age." The parchment is taken and a nod is aimed at Faruja. "Such a call of arms would surely spur our ranks into such a crusade. A tyranny, as some of these empires are, is merely a member of the elite assuming total and complete power instead of sharing it among his peers. An enemy like that is a clear foe to the cause in which my order fights to uphold." A belated smile appears now on Margaux's face. "Politics are such a terrible thing to speak of, no? Perhaps next time we shall speak of lighter things when I am not here on...official business." |
| Faruja Senra | Mmm. The rat nods on neutrality. There's even a slight scowl, for but a moment...and a passing look of old horrors. Alexandria took everything from the rat; family, friend, and enemy. And with them on the war march, it grates on him that he can't spill their blood openly. "...Such political veils are shed quickly I find. I /tire/ of inaction. Admittedly, 'tis something of a personal matter, however I find far too little Alexandrian crimson upon Church blades as of late. Mmm. Lord grant us a way." Is all he says. All he can say, really, and he's pushing it with such open calls for bloodshed. Slowly, the rat stands. One arm folds behind him, and he crosses his chest as he looks to the Altar. "...Lord guide thy righteous blades. I shall whisper the proper words in receptive ears. My only price is mayhap a few blades in the gut of an Alexandrian should they threaten you and yours on behalf of my fallen comrades. And mayhap a drink, when less warlike times are upon us." A flick of the tail, and he paces lightly. That sly smile is returned. "Think naught of it. I know men and women with a noble purpose when I see it. And...thank you for understanding. I shall keep the Brigade in my prayers, that the Lord shall shield their souls as their armor shields the body." Faruja offers a salute to the woman. "Then let us keep in touch, hmm? Discretely. I would very much like to know where best to prepare a few extra beds within Church holdings. A letter or two from my dear friend Lady Clementine would be a /pleasure/, were she to mail any correspondance to me via Mognet." As for lighter things, the rat beams. "'Twould be an honor. Let us share a dance, even, hmm? A specialty of my kind, the arts." Pause. Crash. Wince. The Templar sighs. "Bed here for the night. I shall have a warm bed, and proper clothes made ready, and a bath drawn if you desire. None shall draw blood here, for 'twould be cause to brand a man Heretic. For now, I do believe the dear Priestess needs help. Go with Faram and the Saint, M'Lady. By your leave." A low bow, and he's off to help the poor Priestess not knock over any more plates. |