The Past And Future Collide


Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander jumped in a rather comical fashion, unaware that Angelina had heard him. "I have no idea what's going on with the stream, but 'necrosis'... it's how things die... though I have no idea how something could even remotely manipulate that sort of thing... even... then, it's just fantasy," he said cautiously, his tone unsure.

He couldn't put his finger on what made him hesitate, but he had the feeling that they were being watched. He exhaled softly, his gaze flickering over the trees nearby before he sighed softly as he looked down at the trout and quite quickly, had removed the head and internal organs. "Usually, I tend to salt and smoke my fish when I catch them, but it's up to you how we can fix them. I know how to do it over an open fire, grill it, fry it in oil, which I suspect is much less common here than at home, or sauté it, which would take much less oil than frying it," he said wryly. "Um... it's a little embarrassing, but I also know how to play the piano and guitar... which is similar to a lute, if a bit larger," he said shyly.

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She smiled at him. "You know how to many things, don't you? I don't know know what that first thing is but we did have a lute somewhere. It belonged to my uncle. Mama inherited it upon his death. I don't know where it is. But I have never heard of a p... p... that word you used. There is a portative but we do not own one."

She heard a noise in the woods and a chill rushed through her.

"Alexander, I'm frightened." She looked around. "We sometimes get soldiers that desert and run. They try to avoid Orléans and go around it. Sometimes we see them lurking around. Maybe that's who it is."
 
[
Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander tilted his head thoughtfully. "Back home, when someone enlisted in the military service, it was for a total of roughly three years, six if reserves, though I've never felt very tolerant of those who went MIA," he said. He noticed the uncomprehending look she gave him. "MIA is short for Missing In Action, though it would most cover deserters. In my opinion, if they give their word to serve to the best of their ability, they should do it, not pussy out like a coward," he said wryly, deftly looping a length of the rope through the fish's mouth before turning towards the path back to the chateau.
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[/QUOTE]
 
She followed him, noticing that the flutterbys had all left. The woods, usually alive with the noise of insects and birds, was strangely quiet, giving everything an almost eerie feel. She pulled a little closer to Alexander. She really didn't know him, had not even met him before yesterday, and yet she was looking to him to look out for her.

Mama should be up by now and probably fretting wondering where she was. And why she was not busy with her needlework.

"We are busy with war so every able-bodied man is expected to fight. I am to be married as soon as it is over."
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander exhaled softly, his gaze flickering around for threats. "Well, if you need anything for it, like entertainment, I'm open to it," he said quietly, a bit cautious. When they cleared the trees, Alexander's gaze was almost immediately pulled to the right, to the dirt path that served as a road where a person was scrambling towards the chateau in an obvious panic wearing the warm bronze and burnt orange colors of the De Soleivant family. "Something has happened," he muttered.
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From where she was behind him, she's did not see the figure running towards the chateau. All she heard was Alexander saying 'Something has happened'.

"What has happened?" She was looking to see what he had seen, but whatever it was had already left. "Is it Mama?"
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander blinked as he half turned, facing Angelina. "Are there families living nearby? If so, I don't know which one would wear bronze and burnt orange," he said, unaware that the De Soleivant family lived a little over two miles to the north. As he spoke, he started down the embankment before he blinked, noticing some of the rocks were displaced... from where he had tumbled head-over-heels down the embankment the previous day. He was also oblivious to the fact that her fiancè had been of this family and had, in fact, been planning to visit... before. He glanced back at Angelina, offering his hand to make the descent easier. He didn't realize that he was humming softly.
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"Yes, those are the colors of the De Soleivant family. They are related to my fiancé, Captain Jon du Ponte. Did you see someone? Perhaps they have news of Jon!" She took his hand to steady her.

Once she was on solid ground she walked faster, hoping it was good news about Jon. She had not heard from him for some time and was worried. She wasn't in love with him but she did have a fondness for him.
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander blinked before he exhaled softly. "I did, although I have a feeling whatever news the one I saw may not be the news you hope for. Unless I'm mistaken, they are in extreme panic," he said, frowning slightly. He hoped for good news, as obviously Angelina did, though his gut feeling suspected the opposite was the case. He strode towards the entrance je remembered Mary exiting the previous afternoon, though the startled reaction from the maid was rather comical to him. He set the trout nearby before he pumped up some water from the nearby hand pump and washed his hands with it before he filleted the trout's topmost layer of scales which were inedible. He was sure she would be protesting against his presence as he was a guest in the chateau. "It's only fair that I contribute somehow. I have some knowledge of cooking, though I likely have as much experience as some would here, I'm certain," he said wryly as he sprinkled a small amount of oil over a cast iron pan he found from a jar nearby and swirled the oil around, coating the pan as he let the fire heat up the pan as he deftly cut off the tail of the trout after deboning the fish by using the tail to remove the spine and ribs from the meat and tossing aside the bones.

He noticed the oil steaming a bit before he added some pepper and salt to the fish before setting the fish, which he'd cut into half inch sections, onto the pan. Almost immediately, a delicious scent surged up as he'd added a little something extra of his own to the fish right after cleaning it earlier.


The servant, one Delànó de Santo, was trembling with barely restrained terror. His black hair and dark blue eyes were jerking from place to place, never staying still.
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She ran into the receiving room to discover the servant Delànó in a state. He was twitching and appeared in great distress. Seeing him as such, her heart began to pound.

"Tell me, Delànó, what is it? Is Jon hurt? Is he okay?"

"I am so sorry. I wish it were not so. But news has arrived that Captain Jon du Ponte is dead. We await confirmation from the battlefield. The master is beside himself and the mistress has taken to her bed. But they wished me to let you know."

Angelina didn't hear the servant tell her good day, apologizing as he left. Nor did she see the servant leave.

She sat in shock as tears appeared, pooling in her eyes to slowly roll down her cheeks. She made no sound as she cried, sitting on the settee looking lost.
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander exhaled softly, his eyes half closing as he flipped the now fragrant fish, noticing it was starting to grow flaky, which was very good. He picked up a plate, sliding the slices of fish onto the plate before he chuckled softly. He half turned, thanking Mary, before he stepped into the sitting room, seeing the Countess' distressed countenance. "Maybe fresh fish can help take your mind off whatever distresses you," he said gently. He glanced at Angelina, noticing with mild interest the lute leaning against the wall.
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"Thank you Alexander," she said, quickly wiping away her tears. " but I do not believe that I could eat anything at this moment. They believe that my fiancé has been killed in action. If you will excuse me, I feel the need to lie down. Feel free to do as you wish. Mary can answer any questions you may have."

Angelina gave a little nod of her head and ran up the stairs just as her mother was coming down. The Countess attempted to speak to her daughter but got no answer and continued down the stairs.

"Well, whatever is wrong with her. Oh what is that divine smell? Fish? Oh lovely. Come, let us partake, Alexander. If Angelina misses out on it then it serves her right for being so emotional."

The Countess talked a mile a minute as she walked to her place at the head of table. She sat and rang the little bell, awaiting Mary and her noontime meal.
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
"Freshly caught," replied Alexander, although didn't really understand most of what the Countess spoke of 'current events', but simply listened intently, thoughtful. "Are you familiar with music that tells a story?" he said quietly.
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"Such delightful fish! Wonderful flavor!" On she babbled, talking about fashions of the day, parties that this duke or that lady gave, barely listening to what anyone else said.

"Are you familiar with music that tells a story?"

"Music that tells a story? How delightful. Is that something from a troubadour?"

She took dainty little bites, rolling her eyes at how delicious the food was.
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
"Something like that. It's different where I am from, though," replied Alexander, shrugging, although he'd noticed that it had caught her attention upon mentioning music. "The music tends to have a decidedly different sound than what you're familiar with, though in a way, it's just as fun to watch as it can be to play" he said quietly.
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Angelina sat up in her room, tears filling her eyes. She didn't love Jon, but she was fond of him. And she didn't wish him dead. She would not have chosen him for a husband, but Mama had made the decision that she should marry him, Mama had made the arrangements, leaving Angelina with no choice but to obey.

And now with him gone, she would would probably be married off to some old duke that could bring Mama the prestige that she craved. And Angelina would be the wife of an old man.

Most eligible men were already married or at war. And the women stayed home and bore the quiet pain.

Poor Jon. His family must be inconsolable. She would need to visit them to extend her condolences.

She cried, her tears soaking her bed.
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
"Do you mind sending for Angelina? The song I have in mind is one that I have recently learned, but considering the news... she needs it," requested Alexander, a bit amused by the mild look of surprise Mary gave him. "Did you enjoy the fish? I prepared it personally, although to be honest, I've actually never prepared a meal for someone else before, much less someone as beautiful as you, Countess," he admitted shyly.
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A knock on her door surprised Angelina and she sat up, wiping her tears away.

"Enter." She called out and was surprised when Mary opened the door and entered. She gave a curtsy and told her, "It is requested that you come back downstairs." Mary was hesitant before saying, "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mademoiselle."

Angelina sniffed. "Thank you , Mary. But I really don't feel like coming down."

"It was Monsieur Alexander that requested you."

"Very well. I will be down in a minute."

Mary left to inform the that she would be down presently while Angelina wiped away her tears.
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
"To be honest, I've never actually done what I'm about to do before, so I have no idea how.... skilled at it I would be," said Alexander, a bit shy at the admission. "You see, the sound I'm used to is quite a bit different from what I've heard here. I only hope you enjoy it," he admitted shyly.

"I do know what it's like to lose a loved one, though. I suspect it was part of the reason why my parents all but abandoned me after it, despite the fact that I was only thirteen years old at the time," hr said quietly, his fingers brushing lightly, almost lovingly, over the lute's strings.[/B]

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Angelina pulled herself together and returned downstairs. She discovered Mama sitting and Alexander was holding the lute and lightly playing on it.

"I'm very sorry Mama. It was about Jon."

"What about Jon, or rather Captain du Ponte?" The Countess' voice grew sharp.

"He is feared dead." Angelina began to tear up and fought not to cry.

She turned to Alexander and said, "I understand that you wished to tell me something?"
 
https://youtu.be/KFP8BiGcEH4


Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander exhaled softly as he nodded shyly. "It's not easy to lose someone held dear, I know that all too well. Maybe this can help." As he spoke in a low, gentle voice without taking his eyes off of Angelina's as his fingers plucked a gentle but fluid rhythm that was oddly entrancing.

"There'll be days your heart don't wanna beat, and you pray more than you breathe. And you just wanna fall to pieces...
And nights, those 2 AM calls,
Where dreams become walls...
And you just need a break,
Break on me...

Shatter like glass...
Come apart in my hands...
Take as long as it takes, girl,
Break on me.
Put your head on my chest...
Let me help you forget...
When your heart needs to break...
Just break on me...

There'll be times when someone you know, becomes someone you knew. But you'd do anything to change it,
And words you wanna take back,
But you know you can't...
When the page just won't turn...
And it still hurts,
Break on me...

Shatter like glass...
Come apart in my hands...
Take as long as it takes, girl,
Break on me.
Put your head on my chest...
Let me help you forget...
When your heart needs to break,
Just break on me.

Oh, when you need somebody...
When you need somebody right now,
You're where I'll be...
Break on me,"
he sang in a low, gentle but powerful voice.

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Angelina listened as Alexander sang his strange song. She had never heard anything like it before but she found it strangely comforting. She smile at him, listening to the words. When he had finished, she smiled at him, and though it was a haunted smile, it was a smile nevertheless.

She nodded to him, thanking him. "Alexander, a very unique song. Thank you greatly. I will take these words unto my heart that they will give me great ease." She arose and, crossing to him, gave him a kiss upon his cheek.

Then she turned and left, returning to her room. The Countess sat there, surprised by the song and her daughter's actions.

"Very strange," she remarked before leaving the room and heading to her office to handle the daily books. Mary peeked in through the doorway.

"I enjoyed it Monsieur," she said, giving him a quick smile before turning to her housework.
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander stood, exhaling softly as he laid aside the lute. His eyes half closed, though had he been able to see his own eyes, he would have found them glowing slightly with a warm sapphire gleam. He went upstairs to 'his' room, changing into a pair of black shorts that stopped just below his knees and a light grey sleeveless shirt. He also took a small hand towel as he slipped out to the small field that the servants tended to use for chopping wood amongst other things.

He rolled his shoulders, his gaze rising to the sky as the sun streamed its light down. He exhaled softly as he half closed his eyes, mentally reviewing the techniques he had trained in.

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Countess Lilianna considered her options. Now that that Jon du Ponte had gone and gotten himself killed, she really needed to get Angelina married off. The chateau really needed an influx of cash.

She reviewed her options. Duke Graumbard was very wealthy, and she was sure that the man wanted her daughter. To tie her house with Graumbard's house would be preferable. Never mind that the Duke was approaching 60. At least if she were lucky, the Duke may die in a couple of years.

There were several other eligible men, all over the age of 50, and less desirable than Graumbard. The reasons for their disqualification ranged from insufficient funds, too many off spring from a previous marriage, and with one, extreme flatulence.

Now that she had decided whom to foist her daughter upon, there would need to be the appropriate mourning period. The Countess was already counting her coffers.

Damn that du Ponte! To go get himself killed was the most inconvenient thing he could do.

She pulled out her writing papers and composed a letter to the Duke.
 

Alexander Èirílae Campbell
19 years of age
Alexander heard an odd sound before he looked to the north, frowning slightly as noticed something highly disturbing. He spun, running at his full speed before pushing off the ground, planting his feet momentarily on a low wall then shoved off, landing on the balcony of Angelina's personal room. "Angelina," he said with a hint of fear.
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