| An elegant venue in the downtown, richer area of Moorwood. The cafe is relatively middle-sized with an elegant, rich decor in shades of white and vermillion with gold for complementing. It borrows elements from French architecture and furnishing in the Louis XIV style. It has free table space as well as backrooms that can be reserved for more privacy-requiring affairs. It serves light snacks and heavy, elaborate meals. It is a well-lit place with large bay windows on the outer wall on each side of the double french doors. The L'Isabis Cafe is owned by Mrs. Daisy Jones, a lovely middle-aged woman with rich, golden hair and clear green eyes. She never really leaves the spot, insisting to oversee her waitresses and waiters and to make sure the customers are happy. She is a friend of the Townsend family who frequents her venue. |
AngelicXIOct 12, 2013 1:39 AM
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| ^ Rheasviel von Einzbern Given that this was England, it was an arguably beautiful day. Granted, the winds were blowing, messing with her clothes and hair, but at least it wasn't raining, much to Rheasviel's semi-displeasure. When Jubstacheit had brought her to London on one of their trips, she had actually enjoyed the morose weather - and seeing the dark landscape from beneath Acht's black umbrella, while holding onto his arm. Not that she ever told anyone that, of course. Rheasviel von Einzbern received many odd looks where she went; she was an unusual-looking woman, with her flowing, slightly wavy snow white hair and deep ruby red eyes. Albino, that's what people call those like her. She smiles graciously at the curious bystanders, a soft look in her eyes that sends men blushing and women into coos. Today, she picked red attire; a knee-length dress with a circular skirt, elbow-length fitting sleeves and a nice cowl neckline. All in the shade of blood. Mordred's quiet, unexpected suggestion, was that she dye her lips in the same hue. She complied; she rather liked the result. Rhea hummed a soft tune, her long hair caressed by the wind and blown in rippling waves, somehow still shining dimly even if the sun was covered by clouds. The heels of her Dolce Vita Mary Janes clicked softly against the pavement. She had managed to get away from her overprotective bodyguard-maids, and took off to make a tour of her temporary residence. She wanted to see the place where she'll die; it will be the last one she visited, so might as well make the most of what's left, no? The sights were beautiful, with greenery and vintage houses. She felt strangely content here. Content enough to nearly forget she'll die in the near future, to forget that a war was about to begin. It already has, Princess, Mordred's voice snapped in her mind. She couldn't help but purse her lips in strange, sad agreement. Someone passed briskly by her, slipping a piece of paper into her right hand, the stranger closing her fist around it. Then they swiftly disappeared down the street, pace even faster. Still, Rheasviel had felt it - a woman's calloused, warm hand had closed for a second around hers. She continued walking, albeit more slowly, and curiously unfolded the note. "Dear Sir or Madam, Since you are reading this, I presume that you are a participant in the H.G.W. My servant has detected you as such and has given you the very note you are reading. Do not be alarmed, I don't wish to fight you at this time, but I do wish to speak with you in person. Meet me at the L'Isabis Cafe at precisely 13:45. If you do not show, then I shall assume that you wish to fight me and you will be eliminated with extreme prejudice. You can not run. You can not hide. It would be most delightful if you cooperated...I do not particularly enjoy the thought of cleaning up the mess. I hope to see you then~ Sincerely, Another Participant P.S. Order the Turkish Coffee, it is simply divine." Strange, that one. But Rheasviel didn't want to make enemies. The note clearly interpreted that the mysterious he or she - probably a woman, judging by the slight gullible tone the note held - was unaffiliated. Better get them before the Tohsaka do, nay? Be careful, Princess. It might be a trap, Mordred's voice half-boringly, half-amusedly advised. Rhea plucked her lips in an adorable pout. Or it is a truly honest message, Mordred, she replied back, using his name instead of his class. She could hear him sigh and cluck his tongue. How can you see the good where it really isn't, I shall never know, he stated quietly, a bitter edge to his tone. Rheasviel wished she could hug him. He was such a sad, sad person. It made her heart break. I don't need your pity, Princess, his voice snapped. She quietly sighed. It's called sympathy, Mordred. And you don't need it, but you certainly deserve it, she stated, signaling the end of their debate. Her Servant was, without a doubt, an odd one. She checked the time. It was 13:20. She begun asking for directions; an elderly couple was kind enough to direct her. Rheasviel thanked them with a winner smile, walking almost leisurely toward the select venue. She entered the doors without hesitation, curious eyes mirroring blood taking in the classy decor. Funny, she thought. Her dress matched the curtains. |
AngelicXIOct 12, 2013 3:01 AM
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| As she was seated, another guest entered. She was a tall lady with pale skin and snow white hair, but her eyes were a ghostly blue, suggesting that she was not a homunculus. Her attire was entirely black and gave off the impression of status, but also servitude. Unlike a maid, she wore black pants with practical black shoes. Her blouse was also black and features cuffed sleeves. The woman adjusts her collar with her left hand as she inspects the room. One of the waiting staff greets her but she dismisses them by quickly telling them that she was here to meet someone on behalf of the Townsends. She is immediately left to her own devices...just as she liked it. Another scan of the room yields the result the result she was hoping for: She found the person she handed her 'employers' note and strides over to her, footsteps quiet as the grave. In fact, neither the Einzbern nor her servant even detected her until... "Did you order the Turkish Coffee?" She asks Rheasviel as she took the seat in front of her. |
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| Rheasviel starts, and blinks slowly at the newcomer. Her head unconsciously tilts, assessing the woman's appearance. She was dressed all in black, in a sharp suit; the first two buttons were undone, and no tie was in sight. She had a pale complexion, paler than even the Einzbern's - her hair matched Rhea's, but her eyes were a stormy blue. They reminded the homunculus of the Black Sea she had once seen from Romanian shores. The woman's voice, when she spoke, had a soft, soothing tone; being eerie all the same. Like whispers for the dead ones said when you're kneeling by their graves. Soothingly cold and chillingly soft. She's beautiful, Rhea thinks, and she can quite see Mordred rolling his green eyes childishly. The Einzbern Princess ignores him, choosing instead to sneak a glance at the woman's hands. So, it's you, she adds to herself and feels her smile grow. She speaks sheepishly. "Ah, I am afraid the answer is no. I have only just gotten here and the owner, lovely miss - Jones, she said her name is - hasn't brought a menu," she explains in a friendly tone. Her soft smile had grown a millimeter more. "But, forgive my lousy manners - I am Rheasviel von Einzbern," she presents herself, extending a hand for the woman to shake. Mordred sighs. |
AngelicXIOct 12, 2013 3:24 AM
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| The woman's eyes didn't budge even a millimeter but remained fixed on Rhea, watching for any sudden or suspicious moves. The homunculus offers her hand and wanting to maintain her facade, she accepts her hand and kisses it rather than shakes it. "I am but a humble servant, though I appreciate your gesture Lady Einzbern." She returns her piercing gaze to her face, but her eyes seemed to be looking through her as though gauging her worth rather than actually looking at her. "As for my name...I am afraid that I am not of importance. I am simply here to keep you company while you await my Employer." |
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| "Ah ah ah!" Rheasviel is quick to contradict, a pretty flush staining her ivory cheeks. "No need to be so formal! Please, just Rhea," she chastises, the corner of a red eye spotting the bubbly, cheery owner by the name of Mrs. Daisy Jones coming for their table with two menus in hand. She accepts hers with a smile and thanks the woman; "I'll have a Turkish Coffee for a drink - extra sugar in it, if possible...And, hm. I shall order a meal later, if that is okay?" she inquired, batting her eyelashes in a cute blink. The blonde woman gave a hearty chuckle. "But of course!" Once she was gone, Rhea turned a chastising look combined with a small pout toward the mysterious woman sitting across from her. Something was unnerving, but it didn't stop Rhea's "gut" to emanate sympathy. The lady looked sad, so sad, beneath that aloof gaze. Just like Mordred. "Everybody is of importance, miss." |
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| "Again, I thank you. However, my employer has requested that I treat you as you are: A noble such a- Anyway..." She clears her throat, trying to distract her from the near mistake she had made. "I will have tea. Earl Grey. Black." She tells Mrs. Jones before returning to the reason why she is here. She retains a poker face from the deepest circle of hell to combat what is quite possibly the most adorable pout that she has ever witnessed. "However, that importance, as all things, has a time and a place and sadly...this isn't the time nor the place, as there is a more important matter at hand..." She gestures towards a nearby wall clock for emphasis. "It appears that my employer is running a tad late..." She sighs, noting that the time has gone to 13:50, 5 minutes had passed and the writer of the note was currently a no show. "I shall have to scold her for it later." |
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| Rheasviel waved the woman's statement off. "It is of no importance to me, miss. I have time to spare, trust me; and, the company doesn't appear to be bad at all," she smiled, cheeks still slightly sprinkled with a pretty flush. As charming as ever, Princess, Mordred comments. Rhea inwardly rolls her eyes at him. Shush, you. Don't be a spoiler of my fun, she chastises with a slight, deliberate slur. Mordred gives a short snort of amusement. Outwardly, Rhea's smile grows. Her eyes fix directly onto the mysterious woman's that sits across from her. The sadness hurts her physically, almost. She wants to hug that poor thing until the clouds go away. "I like to believe all people have importance - even those who are nothing but tools in others' employment. Believe me when I say that my name only is noble; and a disgraced nobility, no less," she comments, her smile taking a sad downcurve. She sighs. "There is no pride to take in having pureblood when one's soul is not so pristine," she comments, almost inaudibly. Mordred stiffens, concealed as he is. It suddenly reminds him why he has a speck of respect for the one who called him forth. |
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| The woman smirks. "Amusing little runt, aren't you?" She asks, dropping all pretense. "Alright then, I'll bite your bait. She won't be happy at all with me but she can kiss my arse. It's the price to pay for being late." At that moment, a small commotion started up in the cafe as the staff lined up near the entrance, and not a moment too soon. The door slowly opened, revealing a young woman with long blonde hair and earthy brown eyes. Her attire was mostly green, as was the Townsend custom. The staff greeted her with a bow, saying, in unison, "Welcome, Lady Townsend." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gRt88fmgt4 The lady smiles. "I've been away for far too long, but sadly I'm here on business. Have any of you seen a pale woman? Kind of eerie?" The mystery woman excuses herself before standing and bowing. "Well hello boss~" "Ahh, there she is~" The young lady Townsend walks over to them and sits where the woman had been sitting before." "Ahh, the Einzbern~" The Lady Townsend observes. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Maria Townsend and this..." She gestures towards the well-dressed woman, a sense of dread comes on as it seems that everyone other than them simply stops moving, "Is my servant, Assassin. Feel free to show your servant off, we're in my bounded field so we may discuss without worry~" "Sorry for not introducing myself sooner, but it was Boss's orders." The woman's demeanor seems to take on an entirely different character. "I'm sure she understands, Assassin. Anyway...how are you liking the town so far?" |
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| "Why, yes, I am," Rheasviel comments apathetically, her face losing all traits of flush and humor. Once the Townsend lady introduces herself, the Einzbern allows a small smile to flash for a second. "Rheasviel von Einzbern," she responds in kin, nodding toward the blonde, voice crystal clear and calming, "and this is Berserker." Mordred appears, concealed in his dark fumes and armor. He stands directly behind his Master, a stark contract between his black appearance and stiff posture and the woman's lively color scheme of flesh and blood and relaxed shoulders. He gives a semi-anguished grunt of acknowledgment. Rhea smiles thinly. "I like the town; fairly quiet, nice people - for the most part." |
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| Maria nods to the Berserker. "So, Rhea...may I call you Rhea?" She asks but doesn't wait for an answer. "Rhea, I assume that you're a good person at heart. Neither one of us wants to see all of these good, innocent people get hurt because someone decided to call up the Grail. Honestly, I don't particularly care about this war, but I do care about this town, are you with me so far?" Again, she doesn't wait for an answer. "So if you have any humanity in there, you'll forfeit." |
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| Berserker growls. Rheasviel quickly takes one of her Servant's hands in her own, clutching it tightly and softly at the same time. How dares this - he starts saying with venom, but Rhea is quick to cut him off. Calm, Mordred. Calm, his Master coos softly. She turns to look at Maria. "Humanity? Poor soul. You probably don't know what I am, do you? I exist for the wish of my wielder - I am but a weapon in the Grail War. Do you think it is my decision?" she dangerously states in a flat tone. She rises to her full height, which, even with the heels is not much. Mordred dwarfs her. The arm of whose hand she is still holding protectively drags her back in close proximity to his armored body. "I suggest you put away your naivety, Maria, dear. Naivety and rudeness. One day, one or the other will get you killed - wars will continue existing and innocent blood will always be spilled." She looks briefly at Assassin. She doesn't know, honestly, how the woman puts up with such a...a...a bratty person! "Now, if you would excuse us...I hardly have an appetite anymore, now." |
|
| Maria chuckles. "So it's true what they say. Homunculi ARE just tools to be exploited. I would pity you if you were actually human." She chuckles mockingly. "You think you can just leave? And you called me naive. One does not simply walk out of my bounded field. Tell you what...I'm feeling generous. I'll LET you leave...but know that you have overstayed your welcome in this town as have all of you who seek to destroy it. Toodles~" At that, Rhea was ejected from the bounded field and Maria and Assassin were nowhere in sight. However, something had changed...There was a face down playing card on the table, stuck fast with a scalpel. On the other side is a Joker, but in black marker "RIPP" was written over "JOK" and the image of the Joker had been doodled on. He had a menacing look to his face as he stood over what appeared to be a corpse. A message left by Assassin, without a doubt. |
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| Rheasviel's jaw tightens. Her red eyes betray no emotion, but her Servant can read her thoughts and feelings. He knows she feels fury - unusual, that. The woman had been all smiles and cheerfulness; sunshine and damp rainbows, for the short span that he has known her for. The cruel words of the cocky blonde must've gotten to her. Then Maria and Assassin are gone, and they are alone in the cafe. On impulse, he wraps both arms around her, her delicate hand still in his armored one. She sighs deeply, frustratedly, but doesn't try to break free. Instead, she leans in. "I've never wanted someone dead quite as I do now..." she muttered with conviction. He gave a grunt in approval. She sighed, and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the cold metal that the man behind her was clad in. The coolness was oddly soothing. Mordred's sights shifted from the woman in his hold - with what he refused to acknowledge as mild concern - to the sign left behind by, obviously, the annoying blonde's Servant. Curious, that. |
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| Mordred's gaze shifted to the message left behind by what was probably Assassin. A playing card and a scalpel. An odd pair of things to leave behind, certainly. He breaks his hold on Rhea and pulls the knife from the table, looking at the card. "Ripper...how morbid." He muttered, his train of thought chugging along. "There are not many people who have been known to rip things, let alone other people." He sneers unconsciously at the card. "Princess, are you thinking what I am thinking? If so...this Assassin is a truly deplorable human being." |
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| Rheasviel perked up at that. She came closer, looking at the card; taking the scalpel in one hand and fingering the blade harshly enough to scratch the skin. "Ripper," she parroted. When you said Ripper, and coupled it with a morbidly smiling caricature standing over a corpse and a scalpel, only one figure could come to mind. Rheasviel blinked, feeling one of her ankles spasm. "Berserker..." she uttered, having to remind herself not to say his name, "I think...I think Assassin has just left a visit card for us behind as form of introduction. Deplorable or not deplorable...I'm willing to bet on my basilisks that this...is not just any introduction." She swallowed hard, almost in a daze. Her mind was positively swirling. |
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| Mordred nods, agreeing wholeheartedly with her. However, he felt so uneasy. "I do not like this...not at all..." He said barely aloud. "If she is the genuine article and not a fake, then we had best watch our step." It seemed obvious, sure, but someone had to say it. Rhea seemed as though she were in a trance. "Jack the Ripper..." The words came unbidden, but Rhea could hear them loud and clear. "Did I mention that I do not like this at all?" |
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| He just had to say it, didn't he. Rheasviel felt a cold shudder trail up her spine, a tremor setting in her bones for a moment as Morded said Assassin's potential identity. She suddenly felt cold. The card and scalpel were swiftly deposited into her small purse. "More than once, matter of fact," she absentminded answers his potentially rhetoric question. She counts backwards from ten to minus ten and then back up. Her mind is finally clear. "I don't exactly love the current predicament either," she says, temporarily apathetic and thoughtful at the same time, "But don't you think it means something?" The inquire is out and past her lips before she has the time to stop it. "It can't be just a challenge, although I'm not willing to eliminate the possibility quite so fast-" she begins ranting, spinning in a circle and then setting down at the table where the Assassin previously stood. Her fingers rap a beat on the table; "- But don't you find it strange? Why would she do that? I doubt that Master of hers would allow it..." |
AngelicXIOct 12, 2013 6:37 AM
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| "Indeed. She seemed rather cautious about revealing her servants identity...but that is one reason why I do not like this. If Assassin truly is Jack the Ripper, and she decided to betray her master...no, it sounds more and more like a trap set up by that Assassin the more I think about it." Mordred himself in all his glory was shaking, not out fear, but unbridled rage. "Whatever the case, I shall kill her myself and be done with it." |
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| Rheasviel calmly caught his arm, turning him slightly so that he faced her. Cautiously, and possibly much to his annoyance, she embraces him (more accurately said, tries to). "Calm down, calm down, calm down," she repeats like a broken record, again with the soothing tone. Then, she sighs. "I have no objections to that, Berserker," she says after a moment of silence, "But let's think about it coolly. Wouldn't you want to betray a Master like that? At least consider it, if not fully go through with it? And...there is a way we can find out the truth about her intentions," she suggests, eyebrows slowly rising up and a smile curling at the corners of her lips. He'll get the idea pretty soon. |
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| Mordred sighs, calming down just enough to think with a slightly clearer head. "I suppose. I am not exactly innocent in regards to betraying someone...but it was for the good of England! What good will this betrayal serve other than selfish gain?" He catches her facial expression rather quickly. "Oh no...do not tell me that you are actually thinking about...You know what? Fine. Just do it. I will make sure she does not gut you like her other victims." For the record, he is not happy about this either. |
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| Rheasviel giggles quietly. "You sound like such an old, grumpy man sometimes, you know?" she conversationally whispers, letting go of him at long last. She takes one of his hands and places a small peck on the covered palm of it. "Regardless, thank you," she softly says, smiling, her earlier anger having passed and being now forgotten. "Perhaps we should go home," she suggests; "Unless you feel like sticking around?" |
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| Mordred nods in agreement before his physical form dissipated. "Home would be best. We can discuss this in more detail there since I do believe the other guests are waking up." He was right. The other cafe guests and the waiting staff were starting to regain consciousness. "You can tell me all about your plan once we arrive." |
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| Rheasviel turns around sharply, a clack of her heels against the tiled floor with marble imitation plaques. Her red dress and hair swish. She leaves behind a decent amount of money on the table for the untouched drinks, and steps out of the venue with her back straight and chin held high. She has things to think about. //Rheasviel and Berserker exit// |
AngelicXIOct 13, 2013 1:04 AM
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