Thread: Fate That Binds (Black Hand & darkangel76)

Lord John Clinton was not the man one might think behind the name. The name brings to mind the idea of a firm yet sophisticated English gentleman. Exactly the type of person one might expect to find in his position as an administrator of the royal province of Korea under the current regent of the region, Earl James McLeary. To most lords like John serving under a Scottish member of nobility would be a humiliation. But John was not a normal lord. Normal lords were not the illegitimate children of regional representatives. Most lords had the title for reasons beyond that there not any other male heirs. And most lords most certainty do not have a hatred of their home countries, the way that John Clinton held with a passion. He breathed heavily as he ran down the steel stairs of the hanging garden of the palace. It was a beautiful place for a morning run, the various exotic flora from all parts of the majestic British empire literally hanging off of the sides of the garden, and over the stunning scenery of the British controlled city of Seoul. Sweat ran down his bare, toned chest. With each step, his mind and body focused entirely on the task ahead of him. John didn't like to let his mind wander. It brought it to the humiliation he had to bear on a daily basis. The laughs, the looks, and the subtle put downs that the other administrators gave him. All because of the fact that he looked much more like the people that they governed, then the people of the British Isles. When the thought crept back into the lord's mind, his teeth softly gritted for a second, and then he sped off, trying to make sure his focus didn't stay on the hatred in his heart. I don't even know why he was even born. He's a crime against the natural order of things. His tutor has said to the manor's maid, back when he was ten. The man didn't know it but behind the corner, the narrow, Asian looking, eyes of the boy was watching. He had taken this treatment from his classmates, and from some of the other adults in his life. But he trusted his tutor. He had always been fair to him, despite his...condition. And yet here he was, the person he would always come to about all the mean things people said to him, was just like all the rest of them. He couldn't talk to his father. Despite being his father's only male heir, he always gave much more attention to his daughters. It was always his tutor who he had gone too. But not anymore. Never again. The sound of crying could be heard in the hall that day. That kid that none of the people in the house really liked was whining about something or other. Nobody could really say they cared all that much. John would have gone through his normal route, and went through the boiler room of the palace all the way back up to the his quarters in the middle of his ship. The worst quarters of any full administrator, in the floating palace. But today something happened to throw things off. Today something happened that would change everything he knew. Today he would see that some disturbance was happening at the far end of the lower courtyard. This was a rather odd thing for him to see. The security of the floating palace was normally much too good for anyone to have gotten on to it without them knowing. And John knew that if theoretically someone were to break the palace's defenses, then the normal red coats wouldn't be the one to stop them. Curious as to what the ruckus was, he walked over towards the disturbance. As he did he was a strange looking sight. A man who was surprisingly tall for his obviously Asian looking exterior. The small tint of European showing through slightly through his more eastern features. And his dress is just as much a curiosity. His top was bare, revealing his sweaty abs, toned from the daily excersize he used to distract himself from how much he despised his own life. But from the waist down he was dressed in the part of an English gentlemen. A pair made from fine cotton and sewn in Milan. And his boots were of the durable traction laden gear that they gave to the redcoats for fighting, perfect for navigated the often slippery exterior of the massive steam powered fortress. But as he pushed back one of the guards who had caught the intruder and got a look at what he cause of the commotion was, he gasped in shock. Here in the floor of the lower courtyard, was a young looking Korean woman, glaring angrily at the surrounding soldiers. She was so young and so beautiful, almsot like a thorny rose. John took a glance backwards to what her intended target was. Why on earth was she attacking the generator of the dinner tube system, for the lower section of the palace? What would one accomplish by that? Thief! Shouted the lead guard, obviously coming to the assumption based on the English clothes she was in. He was a gruff looking man who by John's guess, likely sustained a number of scarring wounds in the putting down of the rebellion of the American Colonies. How did you get here on to the fortress? He growled, his hand reached out to grip her long dark hair.