Routine (Rawdon, open)

[Elizabeth Bell]

7.25
Unumber 1^st
Year LVI

Bess wiped her sleeve over her brow, brushing her closed eyelids. They felt heavy and refused to open without a considerable effort on her part. She had been home for Yule and then again for Cynday. Because it had not snowed, the Day Out of Time had been celebrated outside and fiercely, with a bonfire and dancing and warm cider aplenty to keep them warm. She had been up very late, and had only come trudging back to the castle a few hours before on the arm of her brother, who had had more than his fair share of spiced rum. They had been lucky that they had not been attacked -- though she was sure that Alastair had been a silent, unseen escort as well. They had seen young Finley's odd eyes flashing in the shadows when they had entered the woods, and hardly anyone ever saw Finley when Alastair was not nearby.

As she wrapped a cloth around her hand in order to lift Mr. Bray's breakfast eggs from the stove she giggled to herself, for she was sure that no matter her own sleepiness or aches, Erick's morning would surely be far worse. Shifting the eggs carefully from the pan onto their allotted serving plate, Bess moved her left hand to snatch a fine linen napkin from a small cabinet above her head. Then, draping the napkin over her arm and lifting a plate of eggs on her left hand and the berry custard on her right, she used her foot to nudge the door to the kitchen open and left its warmth. The fire had warmed the room, so she inevitably shivered as the bitingly cold air of the hallway met her nose, doubtless turning it pink.

With practised ease she made her winding way to the dining hall -- which, along with the table occupying its length, was imposingly large for a single man. Although she had lit a blazing fire in the massive stone hearth two hours before, the huge room still was not quite warm. She had already laid out a small plate of sausages, and now set down the rest of the meal, folding the napkin daintily over the shining empty plate and carefully nudging the utensils into place beside it. Then she gently pulled the chair back from the table and stood back against the eastern wall, waiting. Mr. Bray was as punctual as a lunar phase, and by her calculation, he would be down in no more than five minutes to take breakfast.

[Rawdon Bray]

Sleep was not something a powerful man could afford - it was much too time-consuming and offered few joys that could not be obtained in other ways. Mr. Bray had therefore spent most of the night in his study, poured over documents and letters of correspondence with his business associates back in the city. He reported on the surroundings of Benevolence and advised them on the next course of action - to ease the population into the dramatic changes they had planned for the place. Naturally, this advice was not given as a testiment of his good opinion but rather because the current population might be prevailed upon to assist them in constructing new lodgings for tourists. It would save them money not to seek employees abroad and money was of the essence in all business matters. He could not be expected to act sentimentally. Not when his money was involved.

He had long taught himself to function without fault on little to no sleep but this morning, the bags under his eyes betrayed more than a hint of his character. As he languidly made his way to the dining room, he chanced a sideways glance at his reflection in the mirror and cast aspersions at his unkempt apparel, which he considered far beneath him. What would his mother say? He paused, tidied his hair and wardrobe and continued on his gloomy way to enjoy a peaceful breakfast. When he entered the room, Miss Bell awaited him there and a proper meal beckoned him closer to the table. He could not resist the smell of freshly-cooked eggs and sausages and even found himself smiling, if only briefly.

"Goodmorning, Miss Bell. I trust you slept well?" he asked, sensible of the fact that he rarely enquired after the well-being of his personnel. But the sight of sausages usually lifted his spirits, though only temporarily.

He seated himself at the table, reached for his utensils and took a few slow bites of egg to savour the taste. "You are a fair cook, Miss Bell," he allowed and started digging in now the meal was approved by his Royal Highness. Mr. Bray finished the meal within minutes and upon finishing gestured for his servant to move closer.

"Tell me, how are you settling in? Is the castle to your liking?"

It must be a great improvement from the dump her family lives in, he thought but smiled pleasantly on the outside. A gentleman is a person who merely thinks one thing and says another.

[Elizabeth Bell]

Bess smiled as -- directly on time -- Mr. Bray came striding through the massive doors at the hall's end, dipping into a curtsy and murmuring the perfunctory, "Good morning, Mr. Bray. I have slept quite well, thank you." For the few hours that I did. She felt no little triumph in recognising his approval of the meal, but she remained too cold and achingly exhausted, her head pounding each time the utensils made the tiniest scrape against the plate. Finally, with a bit of relief, she went to the table in order to remove the empty dishes, balancing them in a neat stack upon her left hand, her elbow steadied against her hip.

She took him in covertly as she gathered dishes, her expression unreadable; he'd been up through the night again, it seemed. Apparently, though, he hadn't heard she and Erick coming back in the early hours of the morning; otherwise, she assumed he would have made a comment. She wondered what it was that kept him so busy so often. He was a wealthy man and had an estate to manage, as well as a business, the details of which she was unsure. But gods, why Benevolence? She couldn't help but think that the city would be a far more suitable to the needs of a wealthy businessman than farm and flower country.

"Very well, indeed. It is a very beautiful place to live, to be sure." And frightening, and cold, and lonely, and far from her family and Rosie and the cats... and she was absolutely convinced that there was no way that Mr. Rawdon Bray would ever consider marrying her, so her parent's ambition was a wasted one. Still, they were her parents, and she was servant to their whims. At least she still had Alastair. She wondered if Mr. Bray had even seen the cat around, or if Alastair had been keeping quite thoroughly to himself.

"Shall you be taking your coffee in your study this morning, as usual?" She asked, her right hand drifting up to quickly tuck a stray strand of golden hair behind her ear.

[Rawdon Bray]

By now Mr. Bray already knew his servant was not too promiscuous with speech. He preferred it that way. How could anyone hear themself think when their companions chattered on and on all hours of the day? What an unbearable notion. Still, he could not deny that every now and then, he had a want for company and for this reason he sporadically engaged Miss Bell in conversation, quite against her wishes, he believed. Nevertheless, he ventured to speak to her; it amused him to try and make her esteem him a little. He enjoyed challenges, even social ones, though he derived greater satisfaction from business endeavors.

"I am very glad to hear it. I dare say you know the place better than I do. I have not the time to explore the grounds or the forest. Then again, with these animals that supposedly roam these lands, perhaps it is wise."

Of course, he did not put much stock in such superstituous stories and laughed at the locals their pagan ways. But he had not the tiniest inclination of enlightening them. Hearing their scary stories proved to be one of his few delights. He was also aware of the fact that Miss Bell too took these matters seriously and he did not mean to injure her, so he assumed a more serious tone of voice when referring to the woodland creatures.

"But we are safe during the day, are we not? I have not heard the particulars of the incidents you mentioned."

Yet he remembered the girl in the inn. She'd been brought in while he was enjoying a not-so-quiet dinner. Drenched in blood and visibly assaulted. Wolves, Mr. Bray decided and shrugged. As for his daily coffee in the study, he cared not for it at present. His mind was more actively engaged with the local myths he had recently uncovered.

"I think I'll retire to the drawing room if you'd be so kind as to join me there. You can be excused from your duties for an hour or two," he said, feeling generous. He was such a good master, he flattered himself with a smirk.

[Elizabeth Bell]

Bess smiled and nodded, as she had become accustomed to doing when he chose to engage her in conversation, the dark circles under her eyes pronounced by the stream of morning light from the huge cathedral windows overhead. As far as she knew, he was familiar only with the relative positions of his study, bed chamber, library and dining hall within his home. She knew these places and their connecting maze of staircases and corridors, as well as the pantry, cellar, kitchens, her own quarters, and the drawing room that she had often considered closing up (for she had not seen it used since her arrival).

She was turned away from him, placing the empty dishes upon the elegantly carved serving tray she seldom found need for, when he mentioned the Beasts. A shiver passed through her visibly, and when she turned to curtsy her gratitude to him her expression was no longer sunny, but hard and grim. Without a word she turned once more to place her hands on the trolley, but she hesitated.

She had been debating with herself over this for quite some time. Shouldn't someone warn him? Nobody had really put in the effort, and though she agreed that it would likely be futile, what if...? And it was the possibility that an honest, straightforward warning might save his life (and that she might be in some way responsible for anything unfortunate that may or may not happen to him if she didn't deliver it) that turned her about, her eyes lowered demurely, her lips parted slightly as she searched for a way to word the caution so that she would not sound entirely insane to him.

"They are wolves," She blurted finally, fully aware that she was failing in diplomacy. "The incidents -- the details --" Flustered, she paused, letting out a breath she had held too long. "Large wolves, as never seen in any other wood. Whole caravans have met with their slaughter, and it is not a rare occurrence. They rarely attack during the day, but we stay out, mostly -- the villagers, I mean -- because... it is their territory. As such, they rarely enter our village, but occasionally..." Was there any kindly, gentle way to say this? Her voice hushed to a murmur, her eyes directed at her tight fist on the trolley handle. "They are always found in their homes, sometimes lying about as peaceful as can be, without a drop of blood in them. Sometimes they are... more grotesque. And the cats are killed, too. The cats fight them -- I don't know how; but... sometimes... they fail."

Now, feeling that she had said enough to give him fair warning and not quite enough to warrant dismissal, she turned back to her cart and hurried it toward servant's door. There was no use in scurrying off, really. She would present herself in his study shortly, but first... she wanted to compose herself, and to assure herself (vainly, perhaps) that he would not be duly cautioned and would let the subject lie in his consciousness for his own safety and not at her expense.

[Rawdon Bray]

Although he had anticipated some sort of supersitious reply, he was wholly unprepared for her explanation of the events that had recently ocurred in the woods. Large wolves? He doubted her knowledge of biology. Surely it was quite out of the question that the wolves that resided here were larger in size than in other locations of the world. Was the earth more fertile too? Nonsense. Naturally, the beasts considered nature their territory. It was. Humans only invaded their lands, it's what they did best. Rawdon had made it his business to know and live up to these expectations of human behaviour. And he did so with pleasure.

"Oh, indeed," he mused, thinking how to formulate his reply without hurting her feelings. "Surely the little kittens that live here are no match for these unusually large wolves," he bit his tongue so he didn't sound too mocking or harsh. "Can a predator hunter not be employed? An armed man could slay them easily, I'd say. You know, I am in possession of several swords and the like. I might endeavour to investigate the matter myself. I am a decent fighter and have a fair talent for hunting prey."

But perhaps he should let the locals deal with it themselves. None of this made sense to him: the big wolves, the cats, the lack of response by the locals. However, being the gentleman that he was, he decided to let it go for now and allowed her to exit the room. They would be reunited in the study soon enough. He made a mental note not to speak of these folklore tales again for now. It was too disturbing for a sensible man such as himself.

He languidly entered his study, opening a book or two to admire the illustrations. He was in no mood for heavy reading or literature. His mind drifted back to their earlier discussion and he perused a book on fairy tales. He encountered princes, castles, but few monsters. Bored with the topic already, he set the books aside and stared out the window till his companion showed up. It tired him to stay cooped up all day. Perhaps he should arrange for some sort of excursion. The whole party could be abroad, he enthused. The new gardener girl could come too. She was in desperate need of some refinement.

[Alastair]

ooc: due to my extreme boredom, Alastair will now make a short cameo appearance, then exit.

.Alastair.

[/font]
Early morning sunlight, winter pale and buttercup soft, was slipping over the castle walls when Alastair retired from the ramparts after a long night of watch as was customary, for the grey tom was a creature who took his job most seriously. It was what he lived for. Sharp eyes alert, ears tipped forward, he padded quietly into the castle, making for a certain favorite sunspot of his in which to take a well deserved nap. As he neared Elencastel's spacious study, he could not help but overhear Rawdon Bray's comment on the village felines. One of the burly cat's ears twitched. Kittens, are we now! He scoffed to himself, mostly amused and just a little offended. While he didn't particularly care what Rawdon Bray thought, he wasn't a creature without a certain amount of masculine pride. With scars crisscrossing his sturdy frame and weighing in at just over thirteen pounds of solid muscle, Alastair was certainly no kitten.

He flowed through the doorway of the study like smoke, golden eyes flashing testily as they fell upon the master of the house with a look that was not entirely animal. It was the eyes of the Benevolence felines, in fact, that unnerved strangers to the town the most. For a cat was certainly an intelligent creature: self aware and independent, but not sentient. And there was something in every cat of Benevolence's eyes that was very much human. Alastair was no exception and while speaking directly with any human, villager or otherwise, was strictly forbidden, he felt that the mandate was an extremist one. He studiously bent the rules to include covert forms of communication with the humans he encountered. The Council turned a blind eye to his libertarian interpretation of their code for the simple reason that they had already excommunicated Leander and one male Guardian out of the loop was enough of a loss. They weren't about to render themselves minus their most seasoned and able warrior over some technicalities in the law. A few graceful bounds found him on the other side of the room and casting one last scrutinizing gaze over his shoulder. With all the creeping silence of morning fog, he had soon disappeared from sight. Let them have their opinions: it wouldn't interfere with him doing his job...or catching some sleep.
[/font]

[Elizabeth Bell]

Bess was quick with washing up, and managed to smooth her hair and brush a smudge of soot from her cheek witnessed by way of a reflection of the warped glass of the window. She hurried up to her own quarters, where she dressed in her best dress, which was white with little blue embroidered flowers, and she arranged her hair much more nicely. There was still a slight darkness to be seen beneath her eyes, but if she lifted her chin and angled her face just so, the light could almost mask it. Her blue eyes danced in the looking glass. How nice, to endeavor once more to look pretty.

She slowed from her near-run when she rounded the corner and came in sight of the study door, reducing her steps to a dainty stroll. Perhaps she should really put in more effort, she thought. She had shown in Benevolence standards that she was more than fit to be a wife, for she was talented with a needle and with preparing meals and ensuring that a household ran smoothly. But Mr. Bray had servants who could do what she had done -- had she really made any effort to show him that she could smile prettily, dance elegantly, or that she was well-read? No. Yet this was what her parents wished, and she understood. Furthermore, she understood that if she married Mr. Rawdon Bray, she would doubtless travel to places she would never dream of if she married a man of the town. So was it worth a try? Perhaps. She doubted that it would do any good, anyway, so why not try her hand?

She entered quietly and curtsied, summoning her most charming smile, and then sat daintily upon the settee. "It is such a fine morning. I am honoured that you should seek my company, Mr. Bray," She said softly, looking up at him demurely from under her lashes. Oh, this was silly. She was not accustomed to flirting in this way. But she had resolved to test the waters, and so she would.

[Rawdon Bray]

Her change of attire was wholly unexpected and he quickly rose to greet her properly, bowing solemnly at the pretty woman. Yes, she appeared to him a woman now in her fine, pretty dress with floral pattern, no longer a servant in his keeping. He noticed the alternation in her manner, too, and in her overall person as could not be explained by a man so lacking in experience. Had she discovered the lady within or did she merely seek to gratify him? Either way, he was pleased and not a little dazzled by her smiles. Indeed, he inadvertently found himself returning the compliment and flattered himself that their acquaintance had allowed her to blossom.

She astonished him further when she addressed him most charmingly, assumed a grateful tone of voice and seemed quite pleased to be in his company. Despite all his superior airs he was glad to be received so cordially by a woman who had previously regarded him only with indifference and silence. Being a man, he did not analyse her motives and concluded that she must've come to her senses at last. Were he a typical man of the world, he might recognise her conduct as coquettish. But since he was blinded by his own sentiments and failed to understand hers, the thought did not enter his head.

"Yes, a fine day, indeed. I do enjoy my own company, of course, as we all should, but I sometimes find something lacking. As such, I thought you might like to rest for a while and join me for a stroll outside. I am longing for some fresh air. What do you think? You know these grounds better than I but I believe the garden is quite fine this time of year."

[Elizabeth Bell]

Elizabeth put her hand over her mouth daintily as she laughed, smiling pleasantly. Holding the smile was beginning to make her cheeks ache, but she didn't let it show. She batted her eyelashes, tying to read his demeanour. Well, it was usual Mr. Bray, though it was obvious he was pleased -- but he didn't seem to be flirting back. Why should he decline to return her flirtation and yet be pleased by it? Maybe he was... gouging her actions? Confused? Well, she'd keep trying.

"But of course, a man such as yourself, and such high matters to attend to, such..." a moments hesitation passed before she could think of something, "an impressive library with which one might engage himself! Yet, as you said yourself," she said, inclining her head, "a woman's company can be a pleasant additive to a gentleman's daily life." She was perfectly aware that he had said nothing about a woman's presence, but if she was going to start dropping hints she might as well get right down to it.

"The gardens have indeed been flourishing. Miss Strangeway had been performing her duties admirably, I think," She said. "I think that a turn about the grounds would be lovely, Mr. Bray," She affirmed, signalling her assent to the idea by lifting her fingers and letting them hover beside his arm so that he might then offer it.