Post by honeychild on May 29, 2008 17:53:14 GMT -5
It had been nearly 3 years since the Dark Day that took both her mother and her father away from her. 3 years since Cecille, herself, had almost been killed as well. 3 years since someone had actually called her Cecille. 3 years since vengeance had over powered her and her free booting life had turned into a man hunt. 3 years since her life turned upside down and inside out. She had no idea who it had been as he had defiantly sent someone to do the dirty work, none of them would speak, and she had no leads. She was only 14, but as ruthless as any other pirate, after all, her father had been the top pirate, that’s kinda how you earth the title of Pirate Lord. 3 years could really change a girl, from being care free and having room in her heart to love easily, to cold and distant. From not knowing where to start or look for trails, to getting close enough to almost move in for the kill. She smart and she was clever and soon became a master of what she needed to get done. She charmed her way into drunk men’s heart so they could tell her the secrets she desired, then easily cut their throats if things to too complicated. She had been traveling the world, with clues that lead her into dead ends and traps. Of course, she had felt like giving up more than once, but that wasn’t Cecille. Her father had taught her better, and she was determined when she thought of her father and mother dangling there, dancing the Hangman’s Jig, and her own dance she performed.. those were the things that kept her little heart going.
Luck, at last! Her travels had led her to, what she hoped, would be her final destination. The Kensington Gardens. Here lives a collection of Lords and Early and snobby rich families who usually gave nothing to those lesser people. She was looking for just one.
Hiding in the bushes by the park, she watched and waited. About two hours ago she had been to the post office and sent off a letter, telling the man to address it to Lord Aster, and luckily he was the brightest man and didn’t take too much into account. After ordering him to draw a big X on the back of the Letter, she waited till the post man was sent to deliver to letter. She managed to follow him all the way here, watching him closely to see where the Letter was to be dropped off at. So far nothing. She moved her refuge to follow him closer, hoping she hadn’t missed it... there it was! She’d locked in onto the house as he dropped off the letter and went around the corner. She quickly ran to the house, trying hard not to make it too obvious, and snatched the Letter from the mailbox and ran back before someone came out and caught her nestling herself into a thick clump of bushes, thinking about what to do best next. She guessed she should wait till dusk before putting on her “a man stole my purse, leaving me totally helpless” act. And that’s what she did.
She walked down the street, keeping close to the houses and out from under the lamps, looking up at the windows surrounding the houses; she didn’t want any unwanted eyes were peering out their windows, she couldn’t mess up now. And no one was, except one. He stood outside the house to where the Letter had been dropped off at. Perfect. She walked almost casually to corner of the street, made sure the man wasn’t looking, then gave out the biggest scream she could muster. She was small, but she had a pair of lungs. As she had hoped, someone came running out of the large gates black gates surrounding the big house and looked around, his eyes wild from shock, and he held up a shovel. It might have been intimidating, if his belly hadn’t been hanging over his pants too much, and if all his hair didn’t go right to his large mustache. She didn’t let the large desire to laugh go, instead she started crying.
“Girl, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?” his voice was deep, and almost assuring, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly.
“A-a-a man! H-he s-s-stole my purseeee,” she wailed, “everything important, all my m-m-money was in thereeeee.”
The man looked positively terrified holding this distressed girl, and now faces started popping into near by windows. Obviously hoping not to cause a bigger scene, he led her firmly towards the gate, trying to calm her down, “Uhm, please girl, calm down. Hush now, hush. We’ll get you inside to the warmth and get you a cup of strong tea, so hush up...”
Perfect.... She kept sobbing, quieting down as she got closer to the house, but let the tears keep on running as the entered through a side door. She found herself in a big cozy kitchen that was spotlessly clean, only three people were in there at the moment, all girls, and all looked up as the large man brought in a sobbing, shaking girl. They looked at each other, then rushed up and brought her a chair, made her sit, and started bustling around the kitchen. They brought Cecille a cup of tea and placed it in front of her while the man told them what she had told him, and as he got to the part that all her possessions were in there, she took the que to start wailing again.
“Poor dear!”
“Are you hurt?”
“Did you see his face? Tell, who was it?”
Cecille shook her head, and started up renewed sobs, ignoring the tea. “H-he came up from b-b-behind me an-and put a knife to m-my s-s-side and said if I d-d-didn’t give him my purse he’d s-s-stick that awful thing into my ribs,” she wailed, sobbed some more, then continued, “A-a-all my money was in t-t-there. I w-w-was to live h-h-here and had a-a-all my money and belongings in there! N-n-now I have nothingggg” more sobbing, some pats on the back and hugs and everyone in the kitchen started talking at once.
“We must let her stay! We can’t throw her back into the streets like this, when she has got nothing for herself.”
“ Lord Aster would surely let her stay a while, wouldn’t he? If not, Lady Aster must. She’s kind and-” a girl a bit older than herself started to say. Her face was heavily freckled and had the bluest eyes that vaguely reminded Cecille of the Caribbean waters around where she use to live.
“Now Molly, don’t get ahead of your self, who knows how they’ll take to some girl off the streets,” he lowered his voice, but she still heard him, “And such a filthy one too. If you’d been living in the streets like me, you’re be just as filthy, she thought sourly. He wasn’t as nice anymore with the idea of this girl staying.
“Now, the house is big, maybe she’ll be able to help around or something.” A middle aged woman spoke up, she was plump, but not fat, and had a kind look to her. The thought of working make Cecille cringe, but she left her face blank, except for tears here and there.
“Yeah, I can work! I can also read and write too! I can even use a sword and I can sing and I can dance...” she trailed off, seeing the man raise an eyebrow and look impressed, despite of himself. But that quickly changed as she mentioned dancing. Girls didn’t dance unless they were improper. Cecille was as improper as you could get, and she instantly wished she hadn’t said she could dance. Oh well, the damage had been done.
“I say we take it up with the mistress, she’s understanding. After supper.” said the final woman, who was thin and had a strict look to her pointed face.
And so they did. She was introduced to the mistress, her husband, and a man a bit older than herself which she assumed was their son. He was quite good looking, with a noble nose and light eyes and dark hair... she mentally shook her head, None of that girl, there’s work to be done.
The mistress welcomed her, delighted when she told them she could sing and perform (jokes and stories that is, she left out the dancing part, just in case), and though the man was defiantly skeptical, he allowed her. And you have all the right to be, sir. She thought, as she dipped down into a curtsy the girl with the freckles, Anne, had taught her. She came up rather clumsily, but it was decent. She was lead back into the kitchens where a big tub filled with hot water was waiting for her, along with a clean nightgown and dress.
The bath felt good against her dirty skin. It had been too long since she had last taken one. The removal of all the dirt made her skin look paler than she had remembered it being. Her hair that looked a dull brown turned bright and had a reddish sheen to it. She didn't have a bed and being small and not wanting to sleep alone, she shared the bed with Anne. Right between the wall and Anne. Even some pirate’s don’t like sleeping alone.
By the next morning she was the talk of the household, and was assigned to tutor this boy into reading the more complex things. After 10 minutes with him, he realized that even money couldn’t buy brains.
Luck, at last! Her travels had led her to, what she hoped, would be her final destination. The Kensington Gardens. Here lives a collection of Lords and Early and snobby rich families who usually gave nothing to those lesser people. She was looking for just one.
Hiding in the bushes by the park, she watched and waited. About two hours ago she had been to the post office and sent off a letter, telling the man to address it to Lord Aster, and luckily he was the brightest man and didn’t take too much into account. After ordering him to draw a big X on the back of the Letter, she waited till the post man was sent to deliver to letter. She managed to follow him all the way here, watching him closely to see where the Letter was to be dropped off at. So far nothing. She moved her refuge to follow him closer, hoping she hadn’t missed it... there it was! She’d locked in onto the house as he dropped off the letter and went around the corner. She quickly ran to the house, trying hard not to make it too obvious, and snatched the Letter from the mailbox and ran back before someone came out and caught her nestling herself into a thick clump of bushes, thinking about what to do best next. She guessed she should wait till dusk before putting on her “a man stole my purse, leaving me totally helpless” act. And that’s what she did.
She walked down the street, keeping close to the houses and out from under the lamps, looking up at the windows surrounding the houses; she didn’t want any unwanted eyes were peering out their windows, she couldn’t mess up now. And no one was, except one. He stood outside the house to where the Letter had been dropped off at. Perfect. She walked almost casually to corner of the street, made sure the man wasn’t looking, then gave out the biggest scream she could muster. She was small, but she had a pair of lungs. As she had hoped, someone came running out of the large gates black gates surrounding the big house and looked around, his eyes wild from shock, and he held up a shovel. It might have been intimidating, if his belly hadn’t been hanging over his pants too much, and if all his hair didn’t go right to his large mustache. She didn’t let the large desire to laugh go, instead she started crying.
“Girl, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?” his voice was deep, and almost assuring, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly.
“A-a-a man! H-he s-s-stole my purseeee,” she wailed, “everything important, all my m-m-money was in thereeeee.”
The man looked positively terrified holding this distressed girl, and now faces started popping into near by windows. Obviously hoping not to cause a bigger scene, he led her firmly towards the gate, trying to calm her down, “Uhm, please girl, calm down. Hush now, hush. We’ll get you inside to the warmth and get you a cup of strong tea, so hush up...”
Perfect.... She kept sobbing, quieting down as she got closer to the house, but let the tears keep on running as the entered through a side door. She found herself in a big cozy kitchen that was spotlessly clean, only three people were in there at the moment, all girls, and all looked up as the large man brought in a sobbing, shaking girl. They looked at each other, then rushed up and brought her a chair, made her sit, and started bustling around the kitchen. They brought Cecille a cup of tea and placed it in front of her while the man told them what she had told him, and as he got to the part that all her possessions were in there, she took the que to start wailing again.
“Poor dear!”
“Are you hurt?”
“Did you see his face? Tell, who was it?”
Cecille shook her head, and started up renewed sobs, ignoring the tea. “H-he came up from b-b-behind me an-and put a knife to m-my s-s-side and said if I d-d-didn’t give him my purse he’d s-s-stick that awful thing into my ribs,” she wailed, sobbed some more, then continued, “A-a-all my money was in t-t-there. I w-w-was to live h-h-here and had a-a-all my money and belongings in there! N-n-now I have nothingggg” more sobbing, some pats on the back and hugs and everyone in the kitchen started talking at once.
“We must let her stay! We can’t throw her back into the streets like this, when she has got nothing for herself.”
“ Lord Aster would surely let her stay a while, wouldn’t he? If not, Lady Aster must. She’s kind and-” a girl a bit older than herself started to say. Her face was heavily freckled and had the bluest eyes that vaguely reminded Cecille of the Caribbean waters around where she use to live.
“Now Molly, don’t get ahead of your self, who knows how they’ll take to some girl off the streets,” he lowered his voice, but she still heard him, “And such a filthy one too. If you’d been living in the streets like me, you’re be just as filthy, she thought sourly. He wasn’t as nice anymore with the idea of this girl staying.
“Now, the house is big, maybe she’ll be able to help around or something.” A middle aged woman spoke up, she was plump, but not fat, and had a kind look to her. The thought of working make Cecille cringe, but she left her face blank, except for tears here and there.
“Yeah, I can work! I can also read and write too! I can even use a sword and I can sing and I can dance...” she trailed off, seeing the man raise an eyebrow and look impressed, despite of himself. But that quickly changed as she mentioned dancing. Girls didn’t dance unless they were improper. Cecille was as improper as you could get, and she instantly wished she hadn’t said she could dance. Oh well, the damage had been done.
“I say we take it up with the mistress, she’s understanding. After supper.” said the final woman, who was thin and had a strict look to her pointed face.
And so they did. She was introduced to the mistress, her husband, and a man a bit older than herself which she assumed was their son. He was quite good looking, with a noble nose and light eyes and dark hair... she mentally shook her head, None of that girl, there’s work to be done.
The mistress welcomed her, delighted when she told them she could sing and perform (jokes and stories that is, she left out the dancing part, just in case), and though the man was defiantly skeptical, he allowed her. And you have all the right to be, sir. She thought, as she dipped down into a curtsy the girl with the freckles, Anne, had taught her. She came up rather clumsily, but it was decent. She was lead back into the kitchens where a big tub filled with hot water was waiting for her, along with a clean nightgown and dress.
The bath felt good against her dirty skin. It had been too long since she had last taken one. The removal of all the dirt made her skin look paler than she had remembered it being. Her hair that looked a dull brown turned bright and had a reddish sheen to it. She didn't have a bed and being small and not wanting to sleep alone, she shared the bed with Anne. Right between the wall and Anne. Even some pirate’s don’t like sleeping alone.
By the next morning she was the talk of the household, and was assigned to tutor this boy into reading the more complex things. After 10 minutes with him, he realized that even money couldn’t buy brains.