Thread: The Midnight Masquerade (Atroxa & GrinningGentleman)

Seeing the bruises on Lydia's neck, caused James to narrow his eyes, moving his tongue around in his mouth, thinking deeply as he spoke. But when Lydia replied by shouting, his face turned a little red, as his expression turned dark and furious. For all his anger, he let Lydia explain herself fully, before stepping closer to her, the men holding her making sure she wouldn't falter away, as his face got closer to her's. Don't.. Shout at me, girl.. He didn't shout back, but the slur and hiss in his voice made it clear, that this was far worse than any normal shouting. James had always dreamed of catering to a better crowd. To a richer crowd. But he'd never been able to lure any real costumers in. Not even when he got the young Lora, who he was hoping would bring in a better clientele, as he advertised her properly. Aparantly, he'd done something right, luring in the client, who Lydia had just 'scared' off. But this, now, was giving him a better idea, as his face was inches away from Lydia's. I, will not lose this chance. Not for any one girl. Not even, for anyone's life... This is my chance, for a better existence. He explained, in an almost whisper, as his murderous eyes stared into Lydia's. His eyes moved down to Lydia's throat, looking close on the bruises, as he sneered, turning around to paced back and for for a little while, thinking. Some of the other girls had dared opening their doors just slightly, in order to peek out at the commotion. James noticed, and gave a deep growl, all the way from his gut, as he shouted them back inside. Get the fuck back inside!! His shout was filled with an anger, that a lot of the girls had yet to experience. Bethany knew it, however. Last time he had been this furious, the Brothel had lost a girl, in the most literal sense. James tilted his head slightly, as a thought came to mind. He would've grinned, was he not still so burningly furious, as he turned around to look back at Lydia. Harold.. Is going to get what he fucking want's, and that's the end of it... Tie her hands, and shove something into that mouth to shut her up.. Then stuff her into the wagon.. I'll be out in a moment.. Gotta send a message ahead. Harold's getting a surprise gift. James sneered grimly, staring into Lydia's eyes, and then to his goons before he turned away, to walk down towards his office. His goons did as ordered, emotionless forcing her arms behind her back, tying her wrists together roughly with a rope. The third one, not holding on to her arms, pulled a leather glove out of his jacket pocket, quickly shoving it into Lydia's mouth, grabbing her hair to keep her still if she struggled. The man looked to her eyes, narrowing his own a bit, before pulling out a black cloth sack, shoving it over Lydia's head. Any struggle, or verbal protest was in vain, as one of the men by her side, placed a hand over the glove in her mouth, shoving it in palce, making sure she couldn't push it out, as he lifted her slightly. One of the others proceeded to grab her legs, forcing them together as best he could, as the trio carried her down the stairs. The man in front opened each door in the way, letting the two carriers get through. They proceeded to dump her into a wooden wagon, were one was about to climb up next to her, when everything was interrupted by a soft, but threatening voice. It had a hiss to it, that sent a shiver down the three goon's spine. I think.. That'll be enough.. I.. Will take it from here.. The voice proclaimed, as the three men saw a figure approaching from an alley next to the Brothel. Lydia wouldn't recognize the voice, nor would she be able to see it lying down. But if she sat up, and strained her eyes, she would be able to foggily see the outline of figure's through the cloth sack over her head. She would see the figure approaching, wearing a cloak over his shoulders, hiding most of his body, except for one arm that stuck out to the side, holding a walking stick. On top of his head, was a tall hat, but no other details on the stranger would be clear through the sack. She would, however, be able to see two of the goons approaching the man in a hat, as the third jumped back out of the wagon to join his friends. When the first goon was a mere step away from the cloaked Gentleman, he reached out an arm, seemingly to push the interrupting man, as he was about to form a sentence. But, before he could do so, the Gentleman's hidden arm came out from his cloak, grabbing the goon's wrist, forcing it to the side. As it did, his other hand tossed his walking stick a bit into the air, only to grab it down the handle, and swing the hard knob at the top against the goon's face. Blood flew from the thug's jaw, as a cracking sound went through the silent street. The Gentleman let go of the goon's wrist, letting him fall limp to the floor. The other goon who was approaching, took a few quick steps towards the Gentleman, shouting out in anger, but the shout was soon silenced. In a blink of an eye, the Gentleman stood next to the second goon, with a hand on the mans cheek, as a loud crack had broken through the silence once again. If Lydia was indeed still watching, she would just barely be able to see, that the goon's head was no longer in a realistic position, but now faced unrealistically backwards. This man, soon dropped dead to the floor as well, as the last goon bumped back against the wagon in fear, blocking Lydia's view. The man pleaded for his life, pathetically whimpering, before the Gentleman was suddenly close up against him, and Lydia could see the stranger's head next to the goon's, as the victim gurgled and coughed in pain. A sprinkle of something warm, and wet, landed in Lydia's shoulder, as a ripping sound sent the Gentleman's head away from the goon's shoulder, and the large man, formerly working as James' muscle, dropped to the ground. Now, the Gentleman just stood there, staring at Lydia, staying silent for a moment. I, am not going to hurt you, my'lady. But you have to go to sleep now. Rest. The man suggested, with the same hissing voice like before, but not nearly as threatening this time. The man proceeded to climb the Wagon, moving over Lydia. If she was afraid, and tried to struggle, the man hushed her silently, as he placed a calm, gentle hand on her forehead. It was still too dark, to see the man's face through the sack. Sleep. He stretched the whispered word out, as Lydia would feel a presence in her mind, seconds before she'd feel a deep sleep coming over her, forcing her into a comma like state for a few seconds, before she drifted into natural sleep. The last thing she'd remember that night, was the scent of sweet Tobacco, and Caramel The next morning, the effect was no longer forcing a sleep on Lydia's mind, and she'd be able to wake at any time. She would have slept wonderfully, just like the last night, and she'd feel well rested, and in no pain, once she woke up. She'd still have her bruises, however. The one on her neck, now joined by new ones on her wrist, from the tight bind, against her, due to her slight malnourishment, fragile skin. There was, however, no spell blocking her from remember the trauma from the last night, unless her own mind had blocked it out in defense. She would not wake in the Wagon she might remember falling asleep in, however. Instead, she woke in a warm, comfortable Queen sized bed, with a soft blanket on top of her. The bed had poles at each corner, holding up a finely decorated planks, that had curtains hanging from them, to block out insects, for the luxury crowd. The curtains were a fine, thin, see through silk. The room she was in was large, with a massive door in one end, and two massive windows in the other, giving her a view over most of the city. If she were good at coordinating her position from the church's bell tower, and the docks she'd be able to see in the distance, she'd know that she was somewhere around the center of town. The room also contained a large desk, with a comfortable chair to it, with a variety of feathers, inks and papers. If she investigated, there would not be anything written on any of the paper. In the other end of the room, was a large fireplace, adorned with the same Gothic carvings as the furniture, but in fine white marble. In front of the fireplace, was two couches, one for three people, and one for two, as well as a chair for one person. The wood of the furniture, all had the same beautiful carving style, and soft white cushions, with red sown pictures, resembling flowers and leaves. The floor was a beautiful dark oak, the walls painted a extremely light red, bordering on white, and the ceiling was the same dark oak as the floors. Lydia would find herself alone in the room, except for a tiny bit of company, in the shape of a black cat, sitting on the mahogany desk. The cat's yellow eyes stared down to Lydia, meowing gently as she first opened her eyes, and began looking around. The cat wasn't afraid, but closed it's eyes comfortably, purring silently, as if to greet her a good morning. The cat licked it's nose, as it let her take in the room, remaining were it was. And should Lydia check the door, she'd find it locked, as was the windows.