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Lady Etude

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About Lady Etude

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    Apprentice
  • Birthday July 9

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  • Gender
    Female
  • Interests
    Singing, Playing the piano, Drawing, Video Games, Music, Broadway

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  1. He bit back a rebuttal, his teeth biting momentarily into his tongue. The man was right, he didn't know Abbot well. He met the child once, and yet their conversation was probably one of the most genuine encounters Fain had all year. He inhaled slightly, the salty air dancing around his sense.His hand clutched the pendant tight when he was asked how he acquired it. "He gave it to me-Abbot. I...wouldn't know why." Fain murmured, thinking back to their talk. Flashes of crayons and shy smiles made their way into his mind and he shook his head. Sentiment. When he was lead to the clubhouse Fain paused. Not just a pause, he practically froze in his boots in fact, irrational fear welling up inside him. Not because he felt in danger, but because this was a children's sanctuary. Abbot's place where he probably poured ounces of love and effort into. Where he stored little treasure that made him happy and felt like this was his home away from home. Fain didn't know if he could properly detach himself emotionally from the situation if he walked inside. "I apologize, it is rude of me to have not properly introduced myself." he blurted, turning to the man. "Fain Locke." he said, giving a bow of his noble head, but making no point to present a handshake to the man. "I appreciate your assistance." He pushed the clubhouse door open after that, barely aware of the man behind him now, his eyes flicking around the room rapidly for information. There wasn't much to see that wasn't obvious, but it was a bit more difficult to evaluate with such shoddy lighting. His eyes fell onto the lantern that was hanging on the right side of the room, hoping there'd still be oil in it. He moved inside, inhaling softly and reaching up to touch the knob. 'You're asking to get yourself blown up you imbecile.' the voice teased in his head. 'Wicket could be anywhere you know, he could have easily tampered with something in here.' Fain ignored that trail of thought, turning the knob to turn on the lantern.
  2. What did he want? What was he even supposed to ask? 'Sorry you're mourning but can you think of any place a child murderer would take that child?' the mental voice asked with a twisted grin. Fain felt like a rather big fool in this moment. "I'm-" he started, biting back his apology, pride not allowing it. "I wanted to see where...Abbot said he liked to go." he mumbled, pulling out the pendant and looking down at it in the palm of his pale hand. "It's a rather foolish mentality." he muttered, looking up to the man and taking in the information he said. As if that didn't tell him what he already knew. The situation was bad. Great. However the fact it just happened in the morning gave Fain a bit more hope. He had simply assumed the child had gotten kidnapped in the late hours of the night instead. Perhaps time was more of the essence than he thought. Fain moved up to the dock as well to stand parallel with the sitting man.
  3. Excellent writing. Keep up the good work.

    1. Lady Etude

      Lady Etude

      Oh, how kind of you thanks so much!!

  4. He shouldn't be here. Honestly, what was he even doing? The small group of people at the docks had frozen his steps and all that remained was weariness. He wasn't Abbot's friend, he talked to the child a single time, and he made a...a careless and stupid promise. How could he have promised such a thing in the first place? It was so out of character, so unlike him to find refuge in paltry words nevertheless giving such intentions to a child. Stupid. 'So stupid'' a voice in his head mocked. 'And now he's dead.' Fain ignored that voice, he had to for the sake of his sanity. It wasn't as if he deserved to be here, coming to the water on a stupid but perhaps effective lead. The shame he felt walking a bit closer to the vigil increased with every step he took. His fingers traced the wave symbol pendant in his pocket, almost in a strange form of comfort. He didn't want that to become a habit, so he pulled his hand out of his pocket and clasped his fingers together behind his back. They were clearly connected, the symbol was somehow a connection...but he couldn't find out more unless he approached and asked about it. 'How appropriate, ruining their time together of mourning.' his mind sneered. Fain ignored that comment too, clenching his jaw in frustration. He shouldn't be here... Nevertheless...he was, and so he moved closer, the hunched figures and solemn stars getting closer. Fain swallowed down his nervousness, eyeing the figure who had the tattoo on his back. Him, Fain needed to talk to him first. So he steeled his nerves and approached with all of the nobility and regal training he'd possessed. And yet when he got there, all of that presented confidence shriveled up. "Excuse me..." he mumbled to the man weakly, his voice soft (that was much too soft) an inquiry that could easily be carried away on the wind.
  5. He was silent, but not for the reason he usually was. Valenstein's sudden harshness had stunned him, locked up his joints and left him scrambling for an answer on how to respond to that. No, yes, maybe. Likely. He didn't say anything as his little wall was taken away from him, revealing the full bloodied message. Fain pondered the previous detective on this case, if the poor soul had to deal with these things. No, surely if he had...he would already be dead by now. Fain swallowed thickly, Valenstein's words bringing him back to the present. "I''m...uncertain." is all he mumbled, and that was shameful enough. Was this for sure Wicket? The only thing he knew for certain was that whoever managed to get into his observatory was skilled, a professional. The thought almost comforted him that it might be someone else, like that wretched Constantine. If only... The hug was unexpected, Valenstein did tend to switch moods at the drop of a hat though. He found himself beginning to move his arms up to return the hug, to just 'feel' something solid, but his arms locked up and he subtly placed back at his sides, dangling uselessly. He soaked in the information the other man told him like a sponge, running the facts through his head carefully. How could he have been moved, there were guards everywhere guarding that boy. Everywhere. Then again, Fain was the first to admit how corrupt and faulty law was. Where was the real justice? Why hadn't Wicket been slaughtered on a skewer for what he's done yet? Why hadn't Fain come into this information sooner? His inhaled softly through his nostrils, trying to calm down the righteous anger that brewed inside of him. Contain that..it is an ugly thing..that anger. Maddening. Consuming. "I understand Valenstein. If you would..." Fain trailed off, gripping the man's arm softly, barely even a noticeable presence. "Please find him." he murmured, his touch already falling away like water, watching Valenstein go without another word. When the man was out of sight, his gaze grew lidded and expression turned into a carefully blank mask. But there was an unquenchable fire that burned in his gaze, Fain turning back inside and shutting the door. The first thing he did was move over to his desk, grabbing a spare vial and scraping off some of the blood to put inside of the glass tube, corking it tightly. He'd look at that later. For now, it was a hunt. He moved aggressively, putting on the kettle with a clang and putting the vial back on his messy desk full of papers and notes. He wrenched off his vest as he moved to the small corner than contained the closet for his clothes, throwing his vest in the hamper and unbuttoning his blouse to go along with it. Fain began pulling another crisp white blouse from the hanger, pausing in his motions. 'All the better to see your blood splattered across your clean white clothes.' the voice taunted in his mind, Fain clenching on his jaw and pulling down the shirt as if to personally spite himself. He threw it on, dexterously doing up the black buttons with ease all the way up, hitting mid neck. High-waisted tight black pants were put on next, blouse tucked in, and then black boots that hit just below the knee with a small heel. He completed his outfit with a lace cravat and a black silken ribbon to tie it together. Fain ran a brush through his white curled locks sloppily, tossing the brush haphazardly on the stand, moving back to the stove and grabbing the kettle just as it started to wail. He dropped a black tea bag into a mug, pouring the water in soon after. As he was waiting for the tea to cool down he quickly moved back to the hamper, grabbing the worn pants from last night and digging through the pockets almost frantically, exhaling softly when he pulled out Abbot's pendant. He clutched it in his hand tightly, nearly drawing blood before releasing it into his black pants pockets. A couple sips of tea later and Fain was shaking his head, the adrenaline fueling him to forget it and move towards the door. He grabbed one of his jackets, a tight red pea coat and slipped on some black lace gloves, reaching for the knob. His hand paused on the metal, his body turning and moving over to his desk silently. Fingers pulled open a drawer and pulled out a glass dagger, brows furrowing in contemplation before he slipped it in his coat pocket. Then he was out the door. If Abbot was kidnapped, then frankly there wouldn't be anything to go off of other than the information that Valenstein and the guards said. But Fain couldn't help the compulsion to follow the child's words themselves. The sea...Cradle didn't exactly have a ton of places with water, it was a bustling, industrial, magi-technology infested area where nature didn't really grow naturally anymore. The Inner Ring was much more natural the the Outer Ring but perhaps the real place was the outskirts of the Outer Ring. There was a decently sized dock area for industrial boating... not really for fish, but for traveling and mining for elemental magic down the rivers that ran through the city. Fain's boots lead him there, clacking across the cobblestone with every step.
  6. That was something he could react to, instead of just standing there like a damnable fool frozen from fear. The familiar barking of Valenstein, as much as he loathe to admit it, had sent a thrum of warmth in his chest. Someone was there near his house. Someone he was familiar with. At least he wasn't so terribly alone just for this one moment. But the name 'Abbot' had his mind shouting at him. Abbot. Abbot. The boy...the boy was gone? It couldn't possibly be...not after the promise he had made to him. Not after... It felt like the pendant in his pocket was burning a hole through his very skin. A harsh bang on his door had him flinching from anxiety, hearing Valenstein's worried voice giving him pause. He moved quickly, the gears in his mind turning. Valenstein could provide him with the information he needed to now. The blood would be considered later just-later. Abbot. Abbot was the only thing running through his mind now. Fain reached out a shaky hand, taking an equally unsteady breath to calm himself down a bit. He opened the door. "Valenstein..." he greeted softly, it came out a bit meeker than usual perhaps conveying the tone of helplessness he felt at this moment in time. "Is Abbot-I-did he-" Fain tried, but to his horror found himself stammering over the words he somehow couldn't bear to say out loud. He averted his eyes to the floor, only just now realizing there was some blood trailing outside as well. "Oh.."he murmured in acknowledgement. "Yes, I see now." he said blandly. The little voice inside of his logical mind laughed cruelly at him.
  7. Research was done, calls were made, and rosters were looked into. He had made a very good amount of progress but at the same time Fain knew it just wasn't fast enough. He could feel the time slipping away from his hands the more he read. Eventually the words had blurred together, his head felt heavy and then he had awoken to a headache and a dry mouth with the sun just peeking through the horizon. Fain groaned lightly, putting a hand to his head and making a note that he needed some water. Shaking out of his tired stupor, his eyes fell back down to his notes, inhaling deeply to calm himself. The smell of strong iron had him reeling in surprise, the young man stumbling out of his chair in alarm. He whipped his head around, hand clutching onto the back of his chair tightly in confusion. That smell... In trepidation, he inched towards the smell, feeling the blood pumping in his heart. Was he still dreaming? Maybe it was just the stress. The bloodied words of "Good Luck" staring back at him in his own house had his heart tightening in terror. That wasn't a dream. He backed away, his eyes trailing down along the blood pools and onto the floor. Too many questions bombarded him in an instant. Was someone here? How did they get in. Whose blood was it. Who did this. Were they still inside? His breaths quickened, and he turned, racing back to his notes and gathering them up, shoving them into his pack. Call the police, get out, go somewhere...safe. Safe? Where to go. How could his situation have been compromised so quickly?
  8. Two visitors in one day? It was anxiety-riddling. He never had visitors, it wasn't something Fain ever expected. He clenched his jaw, removing himself from the table with a small "Excuse me.." and moved over to the door. Opening his he froze, tensing up lightly. Why him? He clasped his hands behind his back, noting the insult about the door. Constantine clearly knew Marigold created it then. "May I help you." Fain said blandly, his pale glasz eyes meeting with Constantine's vivid electric blue ones. Constantine Primrose....his mind backtracked to the file. Constantine was in every photo, he was linked to the case. He was...a point of contact in some way, related to this. Fain knew of Constantine outside of pretty magazines and glamorous photo shoots though. That names lingered traces around the Underway as well. "Goodbye Marigold." he said in response, detached as ever. He met Constantine's stare again, his fingers twitching, itching to spring into action. "Thank you, Mr. Primrose. You of all people, would know." is what he replied back, eying the back of the suspicious model with intensity. He shut the door, locked it and sighed. The two teacups at the table reminded him how alone he really was, not even a trivial visit could last more than a couple of moments. He was supposed to feel relieved or content knowing Marigold was gone and he could get back to his research, but there was a slightly empty feeling that made his chest ache.
  9. Who was Marigold to say who Fain would 'love' or not? Fain was pretty sure love wasn't even in his vocabulary with the way his life was going. He gave a rather sour look to the tea, pulling off the kettle when it was ready and preparing two cups of tea. "Am I to understand that you've....come to me of all people to talk about a crush." he asks blandly, though it was more of a statement than a question. He placed the teacups on saucers, making his way over to the table with a lightly clenched jaw. He was drinking tea and gossiping about crushes while the killer could be getting further and further away from him. The pendant felt heavy in his pocket.
  10. So long as you keep from the dark, you're making a difference. Fain mulled over Marigold's statement for a moment as he fixed up the tea, remaining silent as he ruminated. To someone like Marigold...perhaps that could be true. But Fain could not say he could agree with the statement himself. So long as you keep from the dark...so many didn't seem to be aware that in order to make change, sometimes you must 'embrace' the dark, was that not true? Here Fain was taking on a case full of dead families with children's potential corpses whispering into his ear. What then of darkness? It called him to the case, it called him to accept, it called him to whisper sweet nothings of promise and justification. He paused, his internal mulling slowly cracking as Marigold mention a crush. He turned his head slightly, looking back at the man. "What of him." he asked back blandly. "I hardly 'think' of him at all." he replied, blinking in light confusion and turning back to the tea. Valenstein, he didn't see the man much, though Fain would be lying if he said the other didn't go out of his way to visit every so often.
  11. It was clear the observatory was a little more than old and rundown, but it still also held some sort of whimsical feeling when inside. "I wouldn't know." was all Fain could mutter in response to Marigold's comments about home and roots. He left his rather young, not that he had a choice in the matter. He double-checked the lock before slipping the necklace into his satchel reluctantly, his hands itching to go over his notepad and correlate the locations with the notes. But he simply sat the bag down near the table, wiping a bit of rainwater from his face with his blouse sleeve. "School is acceptable." he said, biting bit a large sigh and moving to the other wall. Fain didn't exactly have a proper kitchen, it was more like a couple of appliance near the wall. A small stove, a mini fridge, and a sink that jutted out from the wall. At the very least the dining area was nice, and of course the tea kettle was gorgeous and high quality. He turned on the facet, filling up the kettle and setting it on top of the mini stove. Fain turned, clasping his hands in front of him flatly. "It will only get worse I surmise." he said bluntly, the murders still heavy on his mind. He had half a mind to talk to Marigold about the boy he met today and immediately turned against such a notion. Such a..simple person shouldn't be privy to such information. "Advice, you mentioned something of the nature." he said, trying to redirect the conversation to the real topic of visit.
  12. He couldn't help the small grimace that crossed his lips. So it 'was' a house call then...a chat. Marigold wanted to 'talk'...with him, for reason Fain would not every understand. "The lock is fine...functioning properly as expected." he said, his lips pursing. Right, move. His limbs began regaining their function, Fain moving to unlock the door with his copper key that had roses engraved on them. He had to admit, he did enjoy having a lock...and certainly one that functioned as well as matched the look of the conservatory. He pushed the door softly, flicking on the light switch. There was a small delay before the lights flickered on, the old bulbs in the small chandeliers needing to be replaced. "Please...do come in." he said with a neutral tone, the charm stinting his palm as it sunk into his flesh. He was gripping it far too tightly. But it made him uneasy, knowing he was about to sit down and have tea and chat like there weren't children suffering somewhere from that monster and that fainwastheonlyonewhohadaclueand- He took a breath and shut the door behind Marigold lightly, locking the door afterwards.
  13. Chiding himself internally as he felt the cold droplets sink into his sink, Fain understood why the previous detective had to just let it all go. This was messy and all too large, but what was Fain supposed to do about this? It wasn't as if he...could do better than a professional could he? But perhaps he could. A small voice snarled at him in displeasure because of 'course' he could do better than these simple-minded buffoons. They only wore a uniform, but their brains couldn't work like Fain's could, their eyes did not see what he could. He shook his head, giving a shuddery exhale. Why did he forget an umbrella. Stupid genius, couldn't even remember a basic material. As he approached his old observatory home, he froze, rooted to his place on the sidewalk as his eyes took in a solitary figure upon his step. His heart hammered in his chest, anxiety flaring to life at the possibilities of what could be. The most fearful part of his emotions screamed to run away, that Wicket had somehow figured out that Fain had taken on the case and had talked to the only survivor. He did not listen to such a pathetic voice. And on good measure as well, as the cloak revealed a man whom they both shared a brief encounter. He allowed his knuckle-white grip on the satchel to loosen, clasping his hands behind his back tightly in a stiff posture. "...Good evening." he replied, unsure of what to do. The man came by to say...hello? Does this mean Fain would be obligated to invite him in for tea and engage in the trivial chatter that most normal and delightful did? Did Marigold not understand there were more important things to do?
  14. He pulled some of the covers up more for Abbot, his jaw clenching lightly as the victim thanked him. "No Abbot, thank you." he murmured quietly in response, feeling his heart crack for a stranger he didn't even know. The nurse had him tensing, Fain clutching the notepad to his chest. His shoulders dropped when he saw it was just the nurse, giving her an amiable nod, his eye falling down to the crayon doodles momentarily. Visiting hours were over, meaning it was time to go. He put his pen and notepad away, reaching for the crayons but pausing. He left them. Fain closed the satchel, draping it over his shoulder and clutching the straps tightly for a moment as he stood. "Thank you." he murmured to the nurse, not knowing what to say. Bye? It seemed to trivial for what they talked about. In the end he said nothing , turning towards the door with a slightly tense posture. A hand stopped him, Fain turning back in light surprise. He met Abbot's eyes, feeling the small pendant press into his hand. His eyes dropped to the object momentarily, realizing the weight behind the object. His father's, a most treasured possession, given to him...he didn't deserve that. He gave Abbot one last look before clutching the pendant tightly in his hand and backing away from the patient, quickly turning around and exiting the room. He left with a bowed head and a heart full of misery, pushing open the doors to the stairwell down the hall. As soon as he entered it, and the door shut he allowed his back to hit the wall and the tears to sting at his eyes. he put his hand to his bowed forehead, feeling the pendant on his skin lightly before the first tear fell. His breath fell out in a shaky exhale, wanting to apologize to the boy about an unfair world in an unfair time. Instead he opened his palm, examined the pendant for a moment, taking in every groove and curve and angrily wiped at his eyes with his other hand. He tightened his grip on his bag and walked down the floor as he reached the lobby floor. He pushed open the door and made his way to the exit, the pendant clutched so tightly in his hand it stung with pain. Fain stepped through the entrance, taking a deep breath. It was raining again.
  15. Fain had plucked out a notepad and mechanical pencil form his satchel, giving a nod of encouragement for Abbot to take his time and say whatever he wanted to say. He posed his hand of the pad, listening intently for any little detail that could help. The story was a..'tad' more gruesome than he thought. His pencil lead snapped in half when he started writing about the mother's limb getting sawed in half. It broke again right after when Abbot mentioned the head being mounted on the wall, and again when the child had to expel the content of his stomach in the waste basket. Fain placed the pencil down without a work, grabbing a fountain ink pen from his bag instead and resuming his note-taking, trying to ignore the way his fingers trembled along the pen. But still, he said nothing, diligently taking notes. He underlined a couple of things, mainly on the moment Wicket heard the sirens and the words he said to Abbot himself. He stood a bit more hastily than needed, moving over to the sink in the other room of the hospital to grab a glass of water for the boy as well as some paper towels so Abbot could wipe his mouth. He handed them to the child silently, swallowing his disgust down thickly at the situation. "Abbot, I'm very sorry you had to..tell me about what happened. Your story was very important however, and some of the things you told me are going to be much help, I believe." he said, trying to sound reassuring but feeling he was coming flat as usual. The words: 'You're going to love it at the farm...' rang in his head like an echo. Silver quill trees weren't something as simple as an evergreen, there were only few locations where they grew. Would Wicket retreat back there?