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Thread: Out of the Frying Pan [8/1, Beaumarche family]

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    House Beaumarche Elliot Beaumarche's Avatar  
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    Out of the Frying Pan [8/1, Beaumarche family]

    Elliot Beaumarche - a master of multi-tasking, a sultan of simultaneous obligations - was crunch down on a bit of brown bread and trying to avoid dropping crumbs into the wet ink he scratched across his notebook, when Mateo came bounding into the modest mess hall that the Beaumarche family dined within.

    "Elliot!" Mateo called out loudly, his young, strong voice ricocheting through the fairly empty chamber. Elliot, startled, coughed; having inhaled a gratuitous amount of crumbs from his breakfast at his youngest brother's abrupt appearance. His hazel eyes watered and he dropped the quill on the parchment, clotted ink dribbling along the page. Mateo, with a look of surprise on his own face, moved over to thump his brother hard on the back, trying to clear the man's wind-pipe.

    " - Mat," Elliot finally said sharply, trying to suck in a fresh breath of air, and dislodge the toast crumbs from his throat. "What in Ruzbin -" he began, blinking rapidly, trying to clear his blurry eyes; when Mateo thrust a parchment scroll in front of Elliot's face. Clearing his throat a second time, the Beaumarche lord let his piece of bread drop down upon his plate, and reached for the scroll, casting Mateo a questioning look. "Just arrived this morning," was all Mateo offered up in response; the younger man moving to drape one arm over the back of Elliot's high-backed chair, clearly waiting for the man to crack the wax seal and read it.

    Elliot cast Mateo one last incredulous look, before breaking the seal of the letter and opening it up, his eyes scanning briefly the contents, wondering what fresh hell this note would bring. Letters weren't usually of kind nature to the Beaumarche family...

    [...] Peregrines were declared guilty for the murder of Artan Fatima De Angelis [...] punishment for these acts of unlawful bloodshed and disrespect, the De Angelis family has henceforth seized all assets [...] the Peregrine family is no longer, and all acknowledgement of such privileges garnered to them are officially forfeit [...] De Angelis family invites you to Welch Run on the first days of September in celebration of a new beginning [...]

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    House Beaumarche Emma Beaumarche's Avatar  
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    The noise of Elliot's coughing was what brought Emma from the hallway into the dining hall; her niece Lillian held on her hip.

    Granted, Lillian was getting a little heavy these days, now a three-year-old; and Emma was on her way to deposit her with the child's mother Rose, who was tending to the laundry, but she was waylaid by the sound of her brother hacking up what sounded to be the meatier part of at least one lung. Changing course rapidly, Emma came striding into the dining hall, her chestnut hair kept in a loose braid, the plait unraveling around the crown of her head, wispy locks fluttering in the breeze as she moved. "Elliot, are you -" she began, her brow lined with concern; when she saw that both Elliot and Mateo were now hunched over something at the table, the older of the two brothers intermittently coughing, clearly trying to dislodge something from his throat.

    Emma moved to crowd behind Elliot's chair on the other side, her hip jutting against the chair, her former concern for his hacking cough now gone. She leaned forward, squinting; trying to read over her brother's shoulder. A lock of chestnut hair fell into her eyes, and Emma quickly brushed it away with a sweep of her fingers, tucking the offending lock behind her ear once more. A few moments of silence passed, as the trio silently read the letter; and Lillian occupied herself with toying with the fraying collar of her aunt's dress.

    " - De Angelis? Who is that?" Emma finally inquired softly, her voice sobering, breaking the silence.
    Last edited by Emma Beaumarche; 03-08-2014 at 08:01 PM.

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    House Beaumarche Elliot Beaumarche's Avatar  
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    He hadn't heard Emma entering the chamber, focused on the scroll of parchment in his hands and still trying to clear his throat from the toast debris left behind. His hazel eyes scanned the page one time, and then, not entirely sure of what he was reading, rolled over the words again once more - and only then did Emma's presence announce itself, her soft voice coming from above, her shadow now cast across the paper.

    De Angelis? Who is that?

    Elliot glanced up towards Emma, whose disheveled chestnut hair was coming out of her braid in bits and pieces; and at Lillian on her hip, whose cherub face was pinched in childish concentration. The Beaumarche man reached up and tugged at Lillian's sleeve with a faint smile, a typical uncle gesture; and then his glance shifted towards Emma as he straightened out the parchment for her to read easier. "I've no idea," he said simply, an honest response. All this was news to Elliot - not that the Beaumarche family had looked much outwardly from Hellfire Ridge these days. The Fertile Plain might as well be on another island entirely.

    "Sounds like a... nasty sort of coup, though. I wonder if the Crown has gotten involved," he said absently, shifting his eyes back to the parchment.

  4. #4
    House Beaumarche Emma Beaumarche's Avatar  
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    I've no idea.

    Elliot sounded equally as perplexed, although Emma wasn't entirely sure why that surprised her; she likely had a better bearing about who resided in the outreaches of Tuneric than Elliot did. But still, the name De Angelis escaped her - although the mention of the Peregrine family seemed somewhat familiar, if only for reasons she couldn't quite remember. Lillian babbled something in her ear, and Emma shifted the little girl up higher on her hip; but she kept her eyes on the parchment, her brow furrowed. The words themselves were basic and non-descript; they said little about what remained of the deposed family. It was hard for Emma not to think the worst, even if information itself was relatively sparse. She had learned, in the past, that those trying to cover up something gruesome often found a way to glide past the harsh realities.

    But Emma liked honesty, above all other things.

    I wonder if the Crown has gotten involved.

    "Probably not," Emma said softly, her words heavy. She shifted her green gaze away from the parchment and towards Elliot where he sat, looking up at her. "It sounds like it all happened rather quickly. And what power does the Crown have, at this uncomfortable juncture, to really do much else but take the change as a proper blood-price?" She paused then, glancing at Mateo, and then back down at Elliot.

    "I take it - we're going," she added then, gently.

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    House Beaumarche Elliot Beaumarche's Avatar  
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    Emma's slightly terse response drifted in the back of Elliot's head as he looked down at the scroll once more, not seeing the words but looking beyond the parchment for a glimpse into Welch Run, and the lands beyond the Fertile Plain. So many would likely be there; and the absence of the drafty forge lords would be questioned. He knew their reticence to leave the foot of the mountains in the past several months had not gone unnoticed.

    Bradyn Hallward, Elliot was sure of it - knew where they were at all times.

    I take it - we're going.

    Only then did Elliot look back up at Emma, his brow creased as he met his sister's green gaze; his hazel eyes saying everything he would not speak aloud in from of Mateo, even though their youngest brother likely understood the silent conversation transpiring between them. The fears; the concerns. The realities of such a trip. The burden that it was to be a Beaumarche.

    All Elliot could do was give Emma a pleading look - wishing he had a better answer for her.

    A better fate, for them all.

  6. #6
    House Beaumarche Emma Beaumarche's Avatar  
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    Elliot looked up at Emma with a furtive expression in his eyes; his lips parted as though to speak, although Emma already knew no words would come out. In fact, he had already given her the answer she expected, even if she didn't want it -- somehow, she had known from the moment she read the missive, that they would go. That Elliot would make them go - his reasons spoken but the actualities behind them secretive. That Elliot, the one Emma had always trusted to make the right, safe decision... would decide to do this.

    Things had changed, hadn't they?

    Emma said nothing, shifting her babbling niece higher up on her hip. Elliot looked at her, with a wordless pleading; but all he was given in return was Emma's blank, down-turned gaze. Her lips formed a grim line, and then - "Let's go find your mother," she murmured to little Lillian in her arms, her eyes sliding away from Elliot.

    And then she was gone.

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