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No title.
(2013-03-17 - 2013-04-15)
No description.
Faruja Senra Manhattan exists once more, and with it, comes its bars. Thanks to an attack upon himself and his subordinates, the ratling and the Church's opportunity to assist in the restoration was neatly cut off by the Heartless. Injured as he is, the ratling has crutch walked his way into a seat near the bar area of a local pub, lacking his usual armor for a Priest's outfit of one of the local faith's. The difference is that it's green. Still, several people have greeted him as Father. The rat's long ago stopped trying to explain that he's a knight.

And so, with his leg propped up and bandaged, the Templar is downing drinks. Strewn about the bar are a few actual Priests of the Ajoran faith, the group here on a morale-raising mission.
Margaux Fleury Margaux de Fleury has been a very busy woman over the past few weeks. However, she is disheartened that she could not have been apart of such a grand event. That does not mean that she could not at least participate in the celebration afterwards on the other hand.

This is what has called Margaux here to this strange place this day. The entire world is strange, but she could at least find some familiarity inside a bar. No matter the age or place, a tavern is a tavern. The known 'terrorist' and 'vagabond' has disguised herself as a member of her old profession, a dancer. The problem was that she misjudged what exactly people wore in this 'Manhattan'. Margaux now sits pretty in purple as she is dressed head to toe in the traditional garb of dancers in Ivalice. The semi revealing outfit does have a veil for her face, but the outlandishness of the outfit with its streamers and losse fitting fabric would cause her to stand out juuuuust a little bit.

The once dancer attempts to play this off nonchalantly as she is mistaken for something called a belly-dancer, then a stage-performer, and then a travelling gypsy. In the end, it didn't really matter. That is as long as no one mistook her for a member of the Corpse Brigade.

A familiar face could be useful right about now and Margaux eventually finds one in a certain priest at the bar. In a confident stride, Margaux walks on over in her open-toed dancer's shoes and flashes a demure smile towards Faruja. "Running into a person such that of yourself in a church was understandable." The fencer begins with a shrugs of her shoulders. "But to find you in a bar? I would never have dreamed such a thing."
Faruja Senra Faruja's gaze slowly turns to the oddly dressed woman. Even as he offers a warm, polite smile, he gazes over the outfit; clearly confused over the whole thing. Not in a bad way, but it's certainly a curiousity to the Templar. It takes him a moment, what with the veil and all, but as she speaks the rat seems to jolt up. Very nearly, he almost spills out of his seat.

"M'Lady Fleury! Lord in heaven, hardly did I recognize you! I...wait, wait...ahh! Now I remember. 'Tis Ivalician dress, is it not?"

A tail yoinks out a nearby chair. A waitress is waved over.

"Please, sit, M'Lady! You seem in good health. Order whatever you like, my treat, hmm? Now, now, I am but a nezumi like any other. My kind have a love for exquisite drinks you know? Why, some of our wines and whiskies are the best in all of Gaea. And besides, the good Lord gave us drink to soothe our weary bodies and to allow us to fully enjoy pleasant company."
Margaux Fleury A dancer from Ivalice is able to keep her modesty to a fair degree due to being able to wear baggy, loose fitting pants. It is the top part of her outfit in which is the revealing by comparison and which would draw the most obvious comparison to the 'belly-dancers' of other cultures. Margaux seems to be perfectly comfortable in her attire even if it is everyone -else- who dressed strangely. You do not become a good dancer without first having the skill of being able to wear a costume in front of a crowd without turning into a shrinking violet.

The veil covers her the lower part of her face, but her red hair is still very apparent as are her eyes. Thankfully, Faruja remembers her despite her looking much differently last time. An elaborate bow is given in thanks when he does recognize her. "Indeed, it is I!" The comment about her current garb causes her to motion absently towards herself. "Of certain people from Ivalice, yes. But also no, not everyone goes around wearing costumes such as this. " A glance is now afforded to the crowd at large. "With celebrations in effect, I thought that a dancer's dress would be the least eye-catching in such a plce." Margaux smiles now and gestures to her left and right. "I may have made just a teensy, little mistake in believing that."

Margaux takes the offered chair and crosses her legs gracefully as she sits there now in the company of her Church friend. The talk of whisky is less interesting to the woman than the talk of wine. "The best in all of Gaea?" She mimics back softly. "I just may have to try some. But for now," The redheaded dancer places a bracelet adorned hand on the bar. "We will have to make due with what they have here. It would be quite rude of me to not take you up on such a generous offer." Margaux was also quite broke, but she fails to mention that part.
Ramza Beoulve A young man was taking an evening stroll dockside, as he marvelled at the ships and sights of the city's harbor. He'd just come out of a battle with the notorious lackwit Negaduck nearly unscathed for his troubles. The Shadow Lords were wasting no time causing mischief in Manhatten apparently.

Wearing both cowl and cloak, he was ranging far afield from his company. They were staying at a peculiar establishment known as a Holiday Inn, in which even the most humbles of suites outdid the most kingly master bedroom from Ivalice.

Unsuprisingly, Ramza Beoulve was parched, the fight had given him a raging thirst and it was not long before he found himself drawn towards the closest drinking hole. Pushing open the door, he'd be only looking at the bartender. "Ser, I don't suppose I could trouble you for some milk?"

And then Ramza would see Ser Senra, greeting him cordially. "Ah, Ser Senra, so good to see you again. And who is this enchanting Lady sharing your company? I trust that your friend has recovered from whatever ailed h..."

Whoops. There certainly were several other Priests of Ajora, all staring daggers at him.

Ramza's smile fades a touch. "Sweet Faram! Now this is a mess. Would now be a convenient time to remind you that the laws of the Church have no jurisdiction in Manhatten?"
Faruja Senra "No human wines can compare!" Boasts the Templar, voice proud, some hint of his old nationalistic pride coming back to him. It quickly fades, though.

Faruja laughs, shaking his head, tail wrapped about his chair's leg. Another drink is swiftly poured down his gullet, the rat leaning back comfortably. "Ahh, while quite interesting, well..we all seem so strange by comparison to the Manhattanites. You should have heard the things they said when first laid eyes upon /me/. Strange to hear children ask why the rat can talk." His single eye rolls at that, and Marg may just catch him muttering something about humans.

Faruja might have continued, however, Ramza neatly dashes any hopes of that. His red eye turns to settle upon the man, glaring. If looks could cause heat,Ramza would catch on fire. "She is quite cured, Ser Barbaneth...ahh, no." Snarling, the rat makes to get up, only to wince as his busted leg protests.

"/Damnit all/. Do excuse me if I am reluctant to reveal my companions to A BLOODY HERETIC AND MURDERER!"

With the rat's shout, much of the bar turns to face them. Several Priests look /very/ unhappy as well even with his claims about little things like laws. At least for the moment, no one's drawn weapons.
Margaux Fleury Touche.

Faruja did have a point there. The very nature of his appearance probably had Manhatten newspeople running to the presses that the rumors of giant sewer rats were true. That is if there were not more pressing things to write about in the aftermath of the 'liberation' of this strange land.

Margaux concedes a slow nod as she orders a drink for herself from the bartender. Its some wine or another, Margaux does enjoy a quality glass of wine. The problem is that bickering over who has the grander wine was an almost too close reminder of the frivolity of the noble class in general.

Margaux chooses not to speak on this subject any further and it the arrival of a cloaked and mysterious person that now catches her eye. Running into a bounty hunter at this stage would be quite troublesome as Margaux is kind under equipped to handle such an encounter due to her current garb.

Margaux pivots her head subtlely towards the mysterious milk drinker. Hrmph. There was something about that person that just made her feel uneasy, but she was unsure of exactly -why- she felt this. Faruja then calls him by a name that she does not know. He also shouts that he is a heretic and murderer. Now those are two titles that many can claim, but there was a certain heretic from her world that had struck a devastating blow to the Corpse Brigade....but could it be? The dancer turns fully now to regard Ramza and take in her appearance to see if there were any clues on her person that would jog her memory. It is only now that she realizes that she had been biting her lower lip in a clear break from her cheerful demeanor a moment before.

There were plenty of people looking in their direction now thanks to Faruja and Margaux was not considering her chances of slipping out of here unnoticed to be very good at the current moment. Introductions will have to wait since there may be brawl on hand. "Now, now. This is the time for celebration!" With a small jump off her seat, she gracefully lands her feet and spins in a brief twirl which has her extending her glass of wine towards one of the angry looking priests. "There is no need for angry words to be followed by even more harsh actions with all that has transpired here." Margaux attempts to leave the wine with the priest before coming up on her tip-toes to gently turn twirl herself once more, the scarf like cloth in her hands whirling around through the air as she moves. Her hands are now gestured openly and she addresses those who may be looking there way out loud now. "The time for celebration is now! All talk of laws and other menial topics should be left to the morning, but not today. Not tonight!" The dancer then offers an outstretched hand openly. "I do believe it is time for some music and dance, no?"

Sure this goes against Margaux's wanting to keep a low profile here. But the member of the Corpse Brigade was trusting that people would not look past her dancer's facade. Perhaps the most hidden spot in a place would be right out in front of everyone elses' noses.
Ramza Beoulve Ramza would still have a smile upon his visage, as he shook his head. His features had a cast of embarassment upon them. "Ser Senra. My sincerest apologies. It was ill-done of me to use my father's name, but I swear that was the only falsehood I spoke while we treated at the same table. My concern your friend was genuine, and I prayed for her recovery."

The armored young man would sweep his gaze around the bar at the priests, judging whether any had the courage to draw their weapon, or otherwise attempt to ambush him. While he had the protection of the law here, there was nothing to prevent them from beginning a brawl, knocking him senseless, and attempting to smuggle him out of town. He had no backup, and he'd prefer not to chance it.

Seeing that none were currently forthcoming, he would brave a response. "Please, Ser Senra, do not hurl false accusations at me. You are a man of honor, and it truly wounds me to hear such words upon your lips. There was no malice in my heart as I drove my blade into the heart of a Lucavi. It was only self-defense. And have you heard aught of me actually speaking heretical beliefs across this land? Fain forgive me, if I don't believe you have."

He started to back up a step towards the exit, keeping his back towards a wall where he knew no priests could sneak up on him. "The Cardinal Delacroix had only one master, and it was not Faram or St. Ajora. T'was only power. We partook of his hospitality, and entrusted the safety of her royal highness the Princess Ovelia Atkascha to him. He proceeded to hand over her highness to Duke Goltanna to be used as a tool so that both /Lions/ would have legitimacy for a civil war. All the while, he plotted with my brother Dycedarg and Duke Large to ignite the flames of war. Have you heard aught of how he tried to collect the Zodiac Stones? Or how he used the Bart trading company from the Machine City to exploit the innocent whilst searching for them? I suspect you haven't. When we sought only to rescue the Princess from his clutches, he set the fell Knight Goffard Gaffgarion against us. Sadly, the Princess was already on her way to Zeltennia."

Another step backwards. "When we encountered the Cardinal, he offered for us to join him, to /aid/ the Puppetmasters within your Church in remaking Ivalice in their image. I hope it does not disappoint you that I refused to accept his offer. When he heard my refusal, he invoked the Stone's power and became a Lucavi of legend. I had no choice but to destroy him."

And yet another step backwards, he was almost to the door now. "You are a good man, Ser Senra. Most of the clergy within the Church of Glabados are virtuous individuals who truly do minister to the souls of the faithful. But you have no idea what sort of men your superiors are. If you did, I suspect that you would join me rather than acting as their pawn. As I said to you before, it is not blood, nor title that makes the man, it is one's actions. Divorce your faith from your reason for just long enough to judge my actions, Ser, and I suspect that you will see me in a far different light."

As the lady attempts to make peace, he would swallow, nodding her head. "Well said, M'lady. 'Tis a night for celebration, for the gallant heroes have managed to restore a world once darkened. Does it not bring you hope for your own, Ser Senra? And for Ivalice as well? Can we not put aside our differences for one night of revelry?"

He would cast Margaux a grateful look. "I am certainly willing, if my company is welcome by all whom are present."
Sanel "...What's going on, Snow Mouse King?"

It has been about a couple of hours since Sanel's arrival in Manhattan. However, while everyone was jovial and celebratory with their revival, Sanel was tired. The wonderous ice cream kept him sate, but still, the little boy was awfully tired. In fact, so tired that he forgot that he was still dragging the blanket from the room that he was staying in.

It's a blanket that he'll hold onto. Sure, the hotel will likely pry it from him while he is still conscious, but that is for another time.

However, here is Sanel now. He has been tired out and had been following the trails of the Snow Mouse King. Though, he would mentally chase after an animal or two, his thought had been laid to rest when he saw the sight of ostility from outside.

That is where Sanel is here, dragging that blanket with him. He is still wearing an oversized blue coat and the light leather boots. It is odd how through all of the time, Faruja has likely not seen it off of him.

Sanel looks up towards Ramza. Blink. He has seen many posters of his face. While Sanel may seem a little naive and childish, he is not completely braindead. "Ramza Boulve." He shuts his eyes, "Wanted man." The boy gives Ramza a very critical eye, observing him carefully.

And then, the boy moves forward, reaching for his hand. "Hi. Sanel is Sanel. Sanel is pleased to meet Ramza." Okay, so somewhat braindead.
Faruja Senra Faruja opens his muzzle, the dancer's words almost enough to convince him to not lay hand against the Heretic. But then Ramza speaks. "...M'Lady, this man is Ramza Beoulve." It's all he says in response. Surely she's heard the tales, and he leaves it at that. His muzzle moves quietly, intoning some conversation into his own ear. Several of the Priests sit back down. It's too crowded. A brawl here would simply harm others. No. He wouldn't do that, even for this man's life.

And indeed, were Ramza but a few words different in speaking, the Inquisitorial agent may have investigated his claims. "....Lucavi. The very fell beings that Ajora himself fought? HAH! Hah hah hah hah hah!" A fit of drunken laughter escapes his muzzle, anger bleeding away. Shaking his head, he has to lean on the table to keep upright. Even as he mentally notes the story, the Burmecian glares back over at the man.

"...Truly? 'Tis the best you can come up with to explain thy actions? A more fanciful tale oft sounds closer to truth! No, Beoulve, I shan't slay you here, and risk these fine people. However, I am neither so foolish, nor drunk enough to believe such slanderous lie..."

Any more words are cut off by Sanel. "...Sanel. My friend, please...that man is dangerous." His voice is concerned for the young boy, but it swiftly turns to pain. Up the rat stands, then he wobbles. His heavily bandaged arm twitches, and in seconds, he's on the floor screaming and clutching his arm. The Priests rush to the Templar's side, and haul him up gently. Discussing amongst themselves, they're soon escorting the rat outside.

One of them hangs back. "...This isn't over, Heretic! Today, 'tis naught but mere luck! Throw thyself before the Inquisition, and mayhap you shall be saved!"
Ramza Beoulve On any other day, it would have been comical to see a boy of Sanel's age dragging a blanket behind him. Today though? It seemed oddly fitting. These were strange times. There was something eerie in the boy's words that made his skin crawl, but Ramza was nothing if not polite. And besides, he seemed so small of frame and stature how dangerous could he be? The youngest Beoulve would offer Sanel a smile of good cheer, before placing his hand within his and shaking it. "Its a pleasure to meet you, Ser Sanel. Do you have a surname that I might address you by?"

As Faruja laughs at his tale, he would simply purse his lips into a frown. "A man named Wiegraf Folles once told me that no spoony bard could spin a more fanciful tale, but I do not spin tales, or bandy words. In a fractured world made up of a myriad of lands, with Shadow Lords who can bring unparalleled darkness to bear; that legends of auld could come to life seems so fanciful to you Ser Senra? I never considered that you might possess such naive skepticism."

As the last priest would venture to get in the final word, he would shake his head, not even venturing a response to it. Once they had left, he ranged closer to Margaux. "Begging your pardon, M'lady, but I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance. My name is Ramza Beoulve, and I apologize if your mood has been befouled by my disruption. If your offer is still open, then I would enjoy a dance and song to lighten my spirits."

He'd motion for Sanel to come closer. "Ser Sanel, you've nothing to fear from me, despite what Ser Senra had to say. If you care to join us, then I would appreciate your company as well."
Margaux Fleury If Margaux believed in fate, then she would have cursed its very name aloud.

The agent of the Corpse Brigade has come to the -defense- of the person...the heretic....the whoever who has caused so much grief to their poor leader. The same person had murdered his sister and is now standing only a few feet away. His efforts had almost single handedly destroyed what was left of the revolution.

And Margaux was without her armor and her blade. She only had a foolish smile on her face and an equally foolish outfit on.

To add insult to injury, Ramza was one of the first to vocally support her peacemaking efforts. The trained performer struggles, but keeps a faux smile on her face as she graciously inclines her head towards Ramza. She remains silent for now as anything said to Ramza was sure to be laced with venom.

The sudden arrival of Sanel onto the scene and subsequent departure of Faruja has left Margaux in a precarious position. The proud member of the Corpse Brigade swallows her pride for now as Sanel and Ramza make smalltalk among themselves.

And then Ramza mentions Wiegraf's name. Margaux's expression sours almost immediately. Margaux marches a smile back onto her face when Ramza directs some more words her way. He was armed and she was not. What could she possibly do? The idea of dancing with the one who had nearly destroyed the Corpse Brigade causes the woman to be at a loss for words.

Margaux's composure is regained a moment later. She had the good sense to feign a blush and turn her head to the side as if embarassed by the offer to dance. "I am sure there are many others more are more well suited to dance with the likes of -you-." Margaux nearly bites her tongue. "I mean, there are others present who would be far better company that one such as -myself-. A slip of the tongue."
Sanel "" Sanel's wide-eye gazes at Ramza with a confused look on his face, accompanied with a "Nmn?" He blinks a couple of times. The visible eye stare at Ramza, trying to discern his question befre he adds.

"...Sanel does not remember. Sanel only remembers his name being Sanel." After all, Sanel does find it a bit strange that he doesn't remember it. Everyone has a surname but him. However, he dismisses that feeling of jealousy. People know people by their families anyway.

"Sanel is Sanel."

As the boy is shaking Ramza's hand, the older teenager may find that the boy's strength is rather difficult to control. How is that? Well.... Ramza's may feel like someoe has casted a float spell on him, given the fact that Sanel is likey lifting him a good feet off of the ground."

Sanel is glad to meet Ramza."

However, that moment of air-time is short lived as Sanel looks up towads Margaux, who is given a glance by the one-eyed boy. With the mass of hair covering his right eye, it is only the left golden-yellow eye that is visible.

"Sanel will dance with dancer!" The boy chimes happily.
Ramza Beoulve As Sanel took his hand, and literally lifted him off the floor, Ramza's eyes would widen. This was no ordinary adolescent boy. His frame and stature did not make one whit of difference. Even for that short moment of /airtime/ Ramza found himself massaging a bruised wrist for his trouble. He wasn't sure what to make of him. Still, he was nothing if not polite, and cordial to the boy. "Well met, Ser Sanel. Your grip is admirable! I admire a man with a firm handshake."

Ramza Beoulve would smile politely at the lady, but he would see much in her expression. He hadn't survived so long by being unable to read people. The cadence in her words, the unease in her stance. He had the distinct impression that he was disliked. He also noted that she had never given him her name, which would be a harmless gesture even to a blushing beauty. He didn't know her reasons behind her restraint, so he made a few leaps of logic and assumptions as he responded. "Fain forgive me, M'lady. I understand. If it makes you uneasy to engage in revelry with a wanted man, then I can hardly fault you for it. The office of the Inquisition would be like to charge you with abetting me. The last thing that I desire is to see an innocent harmed by my actions."

He would sigh. "If you wish for me to depart, then I will do so without hesitation."

He would squint, taking in the figure at a closer range. Her hair in particular seemed familiar. "There's something about you that..have we met before? At the academy perhaps, in Gariland? No, no that's not correct. Curse me for a lackwit, I'm sure I've seen you before.."

He'd place a finger to his chin. "Fain forgive me, M'lady. Perhaps you could clear up my confusion?"
Margaux Fleury Margaux ceases her acting when Ramza offers a polite and courteous way for her to exit stage left. The wanted woman (albeit with a smaller bounty) turns her blue eyes upon Ramza. "The fact that you are wanted does not bother me. There are no more innocents in these times." She lets her suddenly cold gaze linger as she considers revealing more.

Sanel's timely intervention causes her blue eyes to meet with his peculiar yellowish ones. It seems that she now has been given yet another opportunity to get out of this situation before things get heated. "A dance?" The youth's display of immense strength a few moments before was not forgotten. "Remember to be gentle. Shaking one's hand is much different than gliding across the floor with another." She says gently in hopes that she doesn't get crushed by the super-strong boy.

But before anymore instructions or advice can be given, Margaux considers what Ramza said to her last. They had crossed paths before and it was not a friendly encounter. Margaux does not turn to Ramza, but she says these words still. "I do not easily forget those who slew my comrades. Please." She drops the dancer's veil across her face as she turns her head towards Ramza. "Do not forget my face again. For the next time we meet, I believe it will be our final meeting." Once she says this, Margaux turns back towards Sanel. "After you, unless you would prefer that I lead.

The dancer smiles demurely once more.
Sanel Unaware that he is responsible for Ramza's bruised hand, Sanel is beaming happily towards his older new friend. "Heee. Sanel is strong, he was told!" He scratches his head a bit, "Sanel has been told that he is too strong." His head lowers a bit, almost ashamed. However, it last a few seconds before he brightens again.

However, Sanel looks over the exchange between Ramza and th dancer. He looks over at the area, noticing that the atmosphere is becoming a little heated. Sanel, for a brief moment, contemplates 'cooling' down the tensions.


However, the judgment is considered to not have the place a winter wonderland, or at least, chilly than usual. The place is supposed to be ran on happy faces, right? Right. Happy faces the place will run.


What was it that someone said. He thinks he heard the phrase before.

"Please treat Sanel gentle." He scratches his chin, that's not right. "Umm... Please treat Sanel kindly." The boy reaches for Margaux's hand, "Sanel would like to learn from Pretty Dance Lady."
Ramza Beoulve Ramza Beoulve's smile would fade in an instant. He knew what she referred to. He would take a deep breath, before speaking once again. "It seems a lifetime ago M'lady. I regret every drop of blood that I spilled in the campaign against the Corpse Brigade."

His voice seemed genuinely steeped in regret. "I was born the bastard son of the Beoulve family. I used to be told constantly that my blood was thinned by that of a courtesan, that I was unworthy of my name. All I ever wanted was to make my father proud, to have the very soul of a Knight. To make life better for the common folk of Ivalice. I admit, that I lived a sheltered life, and did not see your plight as clearly as I ought to have. I was wielded as naught but a tool by my brother Dycedarg against those who would rebel under his rule."

He would stare her in the eyes. "I saw the truth too late. An officer of the Brigade named Milleuda showed me my error. I spared Milleuda the first time we met, but there was such hatred in her eyes for the nobility. And when I looked to another noble for support, I knew that she was /right/."

He takes a deep breath. "Had the campaign ended on that day, the world would have been better for it, but the Brigade captured a commoner named Tietra, the sister of my best friend Delita. They thought she was a highborn girl and sought to hold her ransom. My company went far afield to try to rescue her. When next we met Milleuda, she would not accept that we sought anything but her life and fought to the death. Had cooler heads prevailed, then I would have parted ways with her amicably."

He watches her take Sanel's hand, but still he continues. "And then at Ziekdan, an officer of your brigade named Gragoroth held Tietra hostage. My brother ordered the hostage shot, to make certain that a shot at him would be true. It was on that day that I truly knew that there was no place for me amongst the nobility."

And now his gaze ranged to the floor. "I make no excuse for my actions. I had lived my life the only way I had ever known. The pillars of my life came crashing down upon that day. I did not stay to watch them fall, I turned, and walked away. I could not bear any longer to live a life where the /greater good/ is harming an innocent. And despite your claim, M'lady, there are innocents left in even times such as these."
Margaux Fleury Given the nature of her outfit, Margaux is indeed quite lucky that Sanel did not force everyone to 'chill out'.

However, she is also unlucky in that she is wearing open toed shoes which bodes ill for her should Sanel step on her feet. Hopefully, he is more graceful than what he seems or else Margaux will have to be extra careful now. When Sanel reaches for her hand, the fencer hesitates slightly before gently offering her hand. She does not want to seem overtly rude, but avoiding a crushed hand is also high on her priority list. "I have the perfect dance in mind. One that I learned when I was still just a child." Being what it is, this means the dance will also be rather simple and easy to follow....hopefully.

Ramza's confession to her about his involvements relating to the Corpse Brigade and what happened next causes Margaux to offer a rather severe look his way. She had not expected him to speak of things so easily and freely. His words are considered as music begins to play from somewhere else. But before she begins her dance with Sanel properly, she looks towards Ramza once more.

The rather grim expression on Margaux's face slowly softens. "My brothers and sisters were nearly wiped out that day, so please forgive me if my mannerisms are harsh as well as my words." Morale was not very high among the shattered remnants of the Corpse Brigade these days....not very high at all. "It is not my place to forgive you for Milleuda as that duty belongs to another. Just as I cannot offer apologies for Gragoroth for it too is not my place." Her blues eyes are cast downward for a moment. "I only can offer my apologies and ask for the forgiveness of those for whom we fought for and failed."

The comment about innocents causes Margaux to glance back over at Ramza. "Perhaps. But their numbers grow thinner with the passing day." Margaux looks to be a teenager herself. But then, one does not join a group who calls themselves the 'Corpse Brigade' without being a little cynical
Sanel Margaux. Ramza. Margaux. Ramza. Sanel is looking from one to the other in an instant, trying to figure out the ongoing between the two. Sanel is considering the next course of action, which does include making everyone chill out. The tension in the air is thick and Sanel's frown is becoming more apparent. By Faram, this boy will do it! If he is frowning more and more...!

However, things turn for the better when Margux is finally, if hesitantly, reaching for his hand. The boy tilts his head over, lifting his eyes up at the dancer. His smile grows bigger. Sanel looks over towards the older teenagers a few moments.

With the music dancing, Sanel is pretty quick to pick up the movements. There is a bit of a... hidden analytical side to him. Despite of the clumsy appearance, there is something about him that picks up with the motions.

Finally, Sanel regards the two.

"Sanel does not understand what Ramza and Pretty Dance Lady are talking about." He furrows his eyebrows,"Sanel is confused."
Ramza Beoulve Ramza Beoulve would lift his gaze once more to meet her eyes. "M'lady, you need not ask for my apology. You spoke your heart, and I cannot fault you for your severity."

He toyed with telling her that a member of the Corpse Brigade was now in his company, but thought better of it. /Marlowe/ was not a shining example of what the Braves stood for. Also Ramza was still cross with him for his voyeuristic ways in the Land of Dragons preventing his company from arriving in time to aid the heroes of Manhatten. No, best not to mention him, especially since she was a lovely young woman, if she happened to know him, then that would only bias her further against him.

He took a deep breath. "I know. And I suspect one day Ser Folles will come seeking to venge her. You need not apologize for Gragoroth. As Gustav and he proved, not all of the Corpse Brigade followed Ser Folles lofty ideals, just as many nobles were not the shining examples I believed them to be. Ser Folles always acted honorably, and I hold nothing but admiration for the man."

He would try to offer a smile once more. "M'lady. I can't bring your comrades back. I'm not the almighty. I am just a man who sees no /good/ in using people. A man who cannot stand by as commoners and innocents alike fall prey to some /greater good/ of the nobility and clergy. If you wish to fill the void in your life left behind by the Corpse Brigade's rout, I can offer you another path. We are not revolutionaries. We seek neither fame nor glory. Our only purpose is to protect those whom the Church and nobility would exploit."

He would hold up a hand. "If you care to indulge me just a short while longer, then seek me out again, and let us treat in a more private setting. I can prove what the Church is doing to the commonfolk. It will give you a chance to weigh my words and my actions. If I'm found wanting, then I can scarce blame you for wanting to plunge a blade into my heart."

Once he finished speaking, he would speak to Sanel with an amicable tone in his voice. "Ser Sanel. I are merely speaking of past regrets. I pray only that we might learn from them, and work towards a better future."

Watching the boy out of the periphery of his vision, he noted that he was picking up the dance moves quickly. He wasn't a simpleton, but he didn't seem like a spy either. There was something about him that raised hackles on the back of his neck. His titanic strength was actually the most minor contributing factor when it came to developing an opinion of the boy.
Margaux Fleury Margaux smiles a bit more naturally then she had before when Sanel picks up the dance with relative ease. Despite appearances, Sanel just might have it in him to be a dancer himself one day. "Very good," begins Margaux honestly. "That was not so difficult, no? Next time, we will try one a little more difficult." Sanel might just be a natural and Margaux was curious to see just how far his talent might go.

"Would you not do the same for your own kin?" The Death Corps member asks Ramza succinctly before looking back at Sanel who was not following the semi-hidden conversation going on between Ramza and her. "The situation at hand is complicated. But what situtation is not these days?

Rhetoric question posed, Margaux turns to look back at Ramza. He was trying to recruit -her-? "I shall consider what you have said. But my comrades are not finished quite yet. Their mission still lives on as long as a single member still draws breath. We are resolute in achieving our goals." A slightly coy looking grin now appears on her face. "That is not a 'no' by the way. I must think on where my loyalties or with whom they truely lie." The dancer answers rather cryptically to Ramza.
Sanel It may seem odd that Sanel is picking the dance steps pretty quickly. Or someone that seems to have an uncontrolled strength, it is rather peculiar that the boy is able to pick up on certain things with relative ease at times. The boy listens to the dancer's words, nodding slowly. "Nnn!" The boy's smile brightens.

However, Sanel glances back at Ramza for a few moments, "Past regrets?"

~ "Past regrets"... ~
~ "Past regrets"... ~
~ "Past regrets"... ~

There is a sharp flash. It's as if a sharp pain pierces him cold. The boy nearly stumbles forward. That natural footing that he once had is lost as something triggered.

He looks surprised and he is falling onto Margaux's arms. Despite of the fact that Sanel has immense strength, the dancer will find that the boy is relatively light.
Ramza Beoulve Ramza Beoulve would give her an even look. "Only for Alma or my Father, would I speak so fervently on the behalf of my kin. My eldest brother deserves aught that comes to him. My other brother disowned me when I tried to reveal my Dycedarg's machinations to him. Nor can I forgive him so easily for Tietra's death, familial duty be damned."

The youngest Beoulve would nod at her answer. "Think upon it for as long as you desire. The offer is an open one until you hear what I have to say, or try to plunge a blade into my breast."

He actually chuckles to himself. "And if I have it my way, the offer would remain open to you even then. You would scarce believe how many of my allies once tried to kill me on the field of battle."

When Sanel starts to fall, Ramza would actually rush forward, trying to help her with Sanel. "Is the boy alright? Speak to me Ser Sanel. Have you been afflicted with the Morbus?" At once he would regret speaking such, for he was quite sure the boy didn't have epilepsy. A mystery for another time.

Once he was sure Sanel was alright Ramza would turn, and return back to the threshold of the bar, then he would look over his shoulder, he was smiling once more. "You told me that I should not forget your face. While I pray that our next meeting will not be our last, I would prefer to put a face to the name. Might I have the pleasure of your acquaintance, M'lady?"

He would wait by the door for a time, waiting to see if she would answer him or not. After a time he would speak again. "Farewell M'lady, Ser. I am glad that I had the oppurtunity to meet you both."
Sanel ...Ramza would likely feel a 0red light at the back of his spine. A chilling one.
Margaux Fleury Margaux is all smiles and encouragement until Sanel starts to follow over. Thankfully, he is both lighter than he may seem and Ramza appears by her side to assist with helping Sanel right himself. She asks the bartender for some water for the boy before she dismisses herself quietly towards the door. The rebel had already spent enough time hanging around.

"My name is Marguerite," mentions the dancer softly with a smile before exiting stage left for real this time. Her name was nothing special, but it didn't have to be. It was simply her name just as Sanel only wanted to be called Sanel.
Sanel There was a deep desire... for something. Sanel oesn't know what. He doesn't know what. Perhaps it was something that Ramza said. Perhaps something twisted deep inside of him. Sanel just looked at Ramza, offerng him a faint smile.

"Sanel is well-health. Sanel is fine."

However, as Ramza's back is near the door, there is a more piercing gaze right towards his back.

As soon as Marguerite leave to get water for the boy...

If there was a word that looks could kill... there was a brief flash of an eye. ...That may feel like a slight prick to the spine towards Ramza. But it's brief. Sanel is holding onto his face.

Shaking his head, Sanel is left to get water thanks to the help of his dance partner.

It's just a nice night for Manhattan.

This scene contained 26 poses. The players who were present were: Faruja Senra, Sanel, Margaux Fleury, Ramza Beoulve