[Historical - 1850] Chemical Reactions [Closed] - Printable Version

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[Historical - 1850] Chemical Reactions [Closed] - Blade - 11-25-2015

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RE: [Historical - 1850] Chemical Reactions [Closed] - Blade - 11-25-2015

Esme Persephone Francis Valentine, Lady Lavenza, and heir to the Lavenza title, name, estates, and a whole bloody bit more than that, was in desperate need of a bath. Food as well. Perhaps even a good rest. Her eyes would not stop drooping and the warm cup of tea had long turned cold on her work table. It was not the lack of sleep so much that made her wobble, but rather the relentless desperation of her focus.

Chemicals brewed and bubbled on a long wooden table. Stacks of them hung in little racks, some under burners with a bit of flame. Colors, colors, and more colors. At the moment she was scribbling notes with a fountain pen. A spot of black ink marred her cheek; her hair—tied back in a bun—was falling in a frazzled mess.

The lab coat did not do much to keep the occasional foodbits and drink off of her black day dress—typically a color worn for mourning periods. But black suited her fine. It hid the mess she occasionally spilled when eating as she ploughed through her research. Normally she wasn’t quite such a sponge for meals, her clothes weren’t. She knew good and well how to act like a lady ought to. Unfortunately, such things just had a habit of not mattering a damned bit once she was knee deep in her experiments.

When a knock sounded at the door, for the third time that day, she hit her head on the table—three times.

“Bloody hell.... YES?” she shouted the last bit as she sat up in her elevated stool.

The door opened as she reached for a test tube and shook the contents, eyes narrowing. “Ah... my lady... I’m sorry to bother you...” Anita, her maid said, “But... Cook wants to know if you’re to be eating supper in the dining room tonight or...”

“I’ll take it here, thank you,” she said swiftly.

“Are you certain, My Lady?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well... begging your pardon, my lady... but you’ve been in here for three days.” A pause. Esme listened as fabric shifted and booted feet shuffled on the floor. “We’re worried, is all.”

Esme sighed and ran a hand down her face, but she did not turn back and look at the girl for fear of her seeing the exhaustion in her eyes from staring at paper and colored liquids for too long. “I’ve been sleeping,” she told her.

“Yes, my lady.”

“I will stop working once I’m done.”

“...Yes, my lady.”

Esme didn’t move to work again until the door shut closed behind her. “The interruptions are going to shatter what’s left of my sanity,” she muttered. She reached for another test tube, barely glancing at the label, and poured a few drops into the other she’d had in her hand; it now sat on a rack by itself. “Now... if that will—.”

Anything she’d planned to say went up in smoke—quite literally. A loud boom rocked the room—that portion of the house, glass shattered, and—while not hurt—Esme found herself coughing through the plumes. She reached out and waved a hand in front of her face.

“Christ,” she snapped, none too pleased and quite certain that her face—not just her lab coat, as she glanced down—was covered in pitch. “If only people would leave me the hell alone,” she huffed, deflating. Her shoulders slumped just before she stood up to open a window.

“Then maybe I could actually get some work done,” she half shouted to the back yard, the terrace, from her lab--from what was supposed to be the morning room.

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RE: [Historical - 1850] Chemical Reactions [Closed] - Hobo_Bob - 03-07-2016

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The weather had started off nice. Warm sunny day, a light cool breeze and nothing that would show any signs of rain. A large camp back pack on his back and a mule for other such supplies as his only companion could be seen as far to excessive for a man of science. But he was not a scientist simply of beakers and liquid experiments. More the super natural and alchemy type. He had proof of such things, his mule once was a human. The professors guide in these mountains. But a mistake in the forest camp of a gypsy and her people turned the man into the creature he is now. Or so that was what Quintin E. Bennet was told when he woke the next day and found his companion missing.

Being who he was, what he believed in, it was no hardship to find the reality in something so unrealistic.

It was about the time the clouds rolled in and a light rain began to fall that the manor came into view. That is, a well worn and obvious path that lead into a small view of a large estate. Quin looked to his mule companion and shrugged. It was better than sleeping outside in the rain again, but it also would mean more people. The less to be around with the better. These English did not like the idea of an educated Scotsman, so hiding from them in their forests was an easy thing. Much like Robin Hood, except less stealing.

"Well lad, best be off to the manor. A soft bed for one night might be good for us, eh?" Quin patted the mule on the back and walked ahead, up the path and closer to the manor. His mule following behind him.

The path did not lead immediately to the front door. It seemed to veer off at a fork in which lead to the side of the manor. Quin followed along, his nose in a journal he kept musing over his latest thoughts when a very loud woman's voice reached his ears. Pausing a moment to gather his surroundings, he found he was in a garden. Lush flowers, tall bushes and a few well places trees kept him out of sight of the woman at a window, exasperated about what it was she was screaming about.

Perhaps it was something of a lovers quarrel with her husband. Or her father. Most woman of her age - guessing late 20's - were wed off to someone of about to be. And with a face such as hers, a figure most men dream about, she was bound to some man in one way to be sure.

It was at the 5-minute mark that Quin felt very much a peeping tom. To make himself known would possibly disastrous, or it could be entertaining. Still, he could not leave the lady as she was in such a state of turmoil. "Och, yer lungs are very strong lassie...."

Stepping out from under the shadow of the tree, Quin closed his hands over the book he held and gave a bow to the lady in the window.

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RE: [Historical - 1850] Chemical Reactions [Closed] - Blade - 03-07-2016

Esme was coughing again as smoke moved to escape the window; the fit halting her expressive choice of words to the terrace and the gardens. She pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her open lab coat and caught a sneeze just in time. Her eyes shut with the action, the irritating unladylike sound that wasn’t the least bit cute—at all. Esme muttered a curse as she wiped her nose and rubbed her barely burning eyes.

It was in this brief time that the door the Morning Room, her lab, shot open and her maid came back in. Anita again. “My Lady! Are you alright?! I heard an explosion!”

“God save me,” the scientist muttered under her breath. “The Queen doesn’t need His help; I do.” She pushed hair out of her eyes as the turned to look at Anita. The girl was sturdy enough, the main reason she’d hired her as her personal maid. But Esme had discovered soon enough that despite her stocky figure she was little more than a mouse most of the time. By that point it had been too late to contemplate sending her off for someone better—or worse with Esme’s luck. American women were built of stern stuff, but there was a good chance she’d just hire another mouse and Esme did not want to waste time getting someone else used to her... habits. Again.

Maybe she should have hired an Irish or Scottish maid. Maybe gotten herself a young girl who had an interest in both dressing ladies and science.

Barmy. She was becoming barmy.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Anita.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Just a little mess. Nothing to fret over, I assure you. You may go.”

“Are you sure...?”

“Yes.” The glare she shot Anita had her apologizing and scurrying out of the room—just like a mouse. Esme huffed, hands on her hips from where she stood next to the window. It was around this time that she heard a thickly accented male and not American voice behind her—outside.

Esme jumped and whirled. Red strands tumbled against her dirty cheeks as cobalt blue eyes, almost too dark to be blue and seemed more black at a distance, looked from one place to another. She leaned out on the edge of the window that was station at the ground floor, looking past the terrace and towards the trees, flowers, and bushes. “Who—.”

And then he made himself know, stepping out from behind a thick red maple tree.—bowing. Esme blinked several times, not entirely sure how to take his previous proclamation. Who was he? She knew all of her staff and while he did look a bit like a gardener, and while she could be forgetful sometimes, she certainly didn’t misplace her staff or their names. Well... she’d hadn’t recently.

She couldn’t get a good look at him from this distance, but his voice had been loud and clear—a Scott. And he had either insulted her or teased her, neither of which she was entirely pleased about. She’d had enough of that in England—louts who liked to make fun of her. The heiress that couldn’t land a husband because of her bad manners and equally foul mouth that always always always betrayed her when she least wanted it too. And while her money had certainly been enough to shut them up to ask for her hand it wasn’t enough for her to buy a husband who would hate her and try to keep her from her work.

“I’m not having a good day,” she snapped in the cultured accent of her home country, both because of comment and because of the last three days.

And the setback not but two minutes ago.

Her arms crossed over her chest and her chin lifted. “Thieves don’t usually make their presence known to the lady of the house. Is there a reason your on my property, Sir Scott?”

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RE: [Historical - 1850] Chemical Reactions [Closed] - Hobo_Bob - 03-08-2016

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Quin chuckled at that and carefully removed his hat from his head to show respect for the lady. "Aye lass. Only the best of thieves do of course." His grin was cheeky and teeth almost perfect rows of near pearl white. He then felt his mule pushing at his back, edging him closer into the garden if not closer to the lady, but to munch on some dandelions near him. "Och, ya daft Michael....can't ye see i'm talking to the lady? Aye, tis lunch time. Alright!!" With a rather large nod, Quin set his back pack down and then helped remove the heavy satchels from the mules back.

A break, it would seem, while he spoke to the lass.

"Ye know about thieving, then? Are ye the queen of the bandits that terrorize these mountains?" Perhaps his joke was going a bit far, but taking in how he knew he looked and the defiant stance of the lady, the Scot in him couldn't help it. "Tis a mishap lassie. Me mule needed a bite before we continue our travels." Looking behind him once more to the creature, he set his cap on the pile of stuff and walked closer to the window. Keeping a close eye on the area around him in case the ladies guards took offence to him. But also should he need to run away quickly which way to go would be best. Defiantly not to his right and into the maze looking section of garden.

Standing close to the the ladies face and dress, Quin bowed like the gentleman he was. One hand to his chest. His golden yellow hair was wavy and long and unkept from the 2 years he was out on his travels. The gruff beard on his face gave him a look of savagery, but the smile and gentleness of his eyes seemed of putting behind the cracked frames of his spectacles. Clothes were once fine travel wear, now patched and dirty. He could be seen as nothing more than a beggar or a woodsman, but for the family crest on his ring and the stance that showed more dignity most common folk possessed.

"Forgive me lassie. With the coming rain my companion and I are looking for shelter out of the rain. Once the lad is done with your weeds, we'll be going on with our way." he smiled reassuringly, knowing that he no longer could ask to seek shelter in the manor like the original plan. He was bound by his honor to sleep out in the rain with the hopes of not offending anyone else today.

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RE: [Historical - 1850] Chemical Reactions [Closed] - Blade - 03-08-2016



The best thieves...? She wasn’t certain she agreed with that sentiment. “I don’t see how. It’s much easier to steal, afterall, if one does not know you are doing it. The whole idea is to avoid getting caught, is it not?” Goodness, why was she arguing? Was she so upset about her experiments, her failures as of late, that she was automatically inclined to debate about something as stupid as how best to pinch things from another person? She rubbed her brow, one hand going to her hip as she shut her eyes; a headache. Perhaps her servants were right; perhaps she needed to eat a decent meal in her own dining room tonight—a meal without test tubes, ink smears, or the four walls of her lab about her.

So entrenched in her own thoughts was she that she missed him yelling at his mule. The next thing she heard was him teasing her—again. “Certainly not,” she shot back. “There’s nothing to terrorize here to begin with. No one but myself and my staff, to be sure. Not unless you go into Valsport proper.” A single brow rose as he mentioned food. “Mishap?” she asked. Goodness, how strange this all was. She hadn’t had company... well, ever. And he didn’t seem like a thief. As he got closer she realized he looked more like someone who’d been traversing the woods a little too long.

She wondered if she’d forgotten how to talk to people who weren’t working for her. The one time she’d been to the city she’d been gawked at more than talked to. One trip had been enough; from then on she’d sent Anita and others to do her shopping. She even had Anita take her measurements into the city whenever she felt as if she needed a few new dresses. She was much happier to keep to herself and those she was accustomed to. Easier to get things accomplished that way.

She blinked a few times as he came right up to the window and she found herself looking up at him, but not by too much. She was a tall herself, at least for a woman she supposed. Cobalt blues surveyed him just before he bowed—his manner of dress, his tumble of blonde hair, and even his very mannerisms.

Esme was not certain what to make of him. At all. People didn’t just wander onto her property. She’d chosen this location to build the manor specifically for how remote it was.

When he mentioned the rain she looked up at the sky; at that particular moment a drop decided to splatter on her nose. She frowned before wiping it away. A huff and then a sigh as she met his gaze, her own narrowed. “Who are you and what in the devil are you doing out here to begin with, you fool of a man?”

Truth be told, most women of society would likely be put off by a strange man walking up into their backyard. This was especially so if they didn’t have an escort, much less a male relative living with them for ‘protection of virtue’. But Esme had moved to America to avoid that mess. Being an heiress gave her the power to do so; being the owner of her title gave her the power to do so. The fact that people thought her a mad hatter in Valsport was enough to keep possible American heiress-hunters away. Or title hunters.

This gave Esme the unique stance of not seeing a problem with being relatively alone with the man before her--if one didn't count the mule. His presence did alarm her a little, but given how prone Anita was to checking on her she wasn’t in much danger of not being heard if she screamed should the man try to harm her or kidnap her.

Probably. Anita was a little daft sometimes.

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RE: [Historical - 1850] Chemical Reactions [Closed] - Hobo_Bob - 03-09-2016

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Quin was not one to get huffy so quickly as the lady seemed to be. Already agitated and annoyed, he perhaps was not the one to make her feel at ease and console whatever it was that made her quite distraught. That is to say, when she called him a fool of a man, his reply was to lean in closer to where she stood and peek inside past her to the room. He expected to see a library or a tea room, something a little more familiar. But what he got was a lab.

Blinking at the scene, he leaned away again and grinned down at the lady. "Forgive my rudeness. I'm on a journey in search of-....well, to continue my research." Holding out his hand to the wee lass, Quin beamed brightly down at her, trying to be the charmer he knew he could be. Thought, years out on the road made it difficult to remember how one spoke to a stranger not raised on the woods or in a small village.

"I am Professor Quintin E. Bennet-Rose, from the house Rose." he paused a moment to see if recognition would fill her eyes. It didn't seem as it would. Shrugging mentally, he kept his hand out for the lady none the less.

He wanted to see what she would do, but as time had it the rain began to pour more and his mule started to shout in distress. Cursing a little under his breath, Quin set his golden eyes to the beast behind him. "Quiet a moment while I speak to the lady, ye daft gift." the mule seemed to reply and pawed at the floor. "Alright alright....Michael. Stay under the tree a moment, we'll be leaving soon enough." The mule seemed to do as he was told and Quin once more looked to the woman.

"Forgive me, lass. I best be on my way to look for a cave or dry bit of earth for the night." His smile was almost rueful, as if regretting that he had to leave. Sure, she was a right twinkle to look at, but that would not be enough to be tempting. Well, almost.

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