'You've had more luck than I, if you've escaped before." Durion said. Or less lucky, to be imprisoned more than once he added silently to himself. She seemed one that was accostomed to the dank stone walls of prison. And yet, she didn't look like she belonged. This woman, Lesao, didn't look like a criminal.

"I wouldn't call it luck, just having loyal friends and a good brain." she said, smiling slightly. Her smile soon faded. She glanced around the cold cell. I hate how this place seems familiar, she thought to herself. "If you don't mind me asking, " she said turning back to Durion, "why are you here?"

_________________


Thanks Nurratiel, *Ennostiel*, PD, and Githoniel

Deawen rode without haste to her home. No good arriving at the prison with Elod still running about. She dismounted at her stables and gave the riens to her stable boy then stroad to the courtyard of her small but lavish home. It was only proof that Deawen loved extravagance but had a mindful approach to spending her wealth. She peeled her gloves off as she crossed the courtyard. It was dark and only a few sparse lamps were lit. Deawen's spurs clicked sharply on the flagstones, had a stranger been blindfolded and asked to identify the walk of the person with the spurs they would have said it was an man with an arrogant walk. Though Deawen like beautiful things she was still a tomboy at heart. SHe never used her spurs on her horse but had found they were excellent weapons for a backward kick in a fight.
She sighed and vanished into a doorway.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Durion fought for control of his expression and lost. "Not now." He said, his face emotionless. Traces of past anger welled up inside him. "That's not somthing I tell most people."

Frela stopped outside the gate of the house that was obviously Deawen's. She waited awhile after the gates were shut and assessed the situation. Everything looked quiet, though the servants would doubtless be awake for quite some time. She dashed across the street and into the alley created between the two houses. She navigated a way up the wall that surrounded the house. She continued up and stopped on the roof. She would stay in the shadows there overnight and try to get an idea of the rhythm of the house.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

Maethoriel and Grair meandered onward, the strange companions weaving through the crowded streets. Her destination was obviously the prison, her eyes were fixed on it with such a glare that it seemed that the building had accosted her -perhaps is had at one time-.

The dwarf at her side stayed silent for the most part save a few, exuse mes and other grumbled apologies when he accidently hit another. Finally the destination was reached. Grair stopped at the door and Maethoriel swept inside with a grace that betrayed her looks.

The two worked in sync, Grair stayed guard and Maethoriel would play the part of an arriving dignitary from the formerly opposing army. She stood tall and removed her faded gloves to reveal her hands the bottom of her right palm held a brand bearing the Great Eye.

She strode up to one of the guards whom she had gathered was named Elod. "Are you the commanding officer here?" She growled the question, slipping into her role easily as it was not so far removed from the truth.

(Do you mind if Maeth helps Lesao and Durion get out?)

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

Deawen entered her room and flung off her cerimonal cloak and began taking off her leather armor. She needed a plan but so far she had none. A light tap on the door announced a servant. Deawen sighed and smiled at the tray of food. The house was quiet and the few servants talked or laughed as they worked yet the house betrayed on sound.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

((That's fine.))

Lesao looked down, ashamed of asking, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." she said quietly. She made her way over to the far corner of the cell. She sat down, and pulled her hood over her head. I might as well get some sleep.

_________________


Thanks Nurratiel, *Ennostiel*, PD, and Githoniel

By midnight, Frela thought it was still enough to move. She decided to sneak into a neighboring house for a quick meal. She pulled her tattered navy cloak from her satchel and threw it over her tattered, grey-brown clothing. She slid back over the wall and ran down the alley, she dashed out of the shadows across the road. She saw a blotch of red out of the corner of her eye, and imediately felt dread flood her stomach, beating out the hunger pangs. A member of one of the organized bands of thieves and highwaymen. She knew he had seen her, and heard him advancing. She turned and braced her knees. She put her hand on the stiletto stuck in her belt, and lunged at him, timing herself to bring the dagger around just in time to plunge it into his stomach. It worked, and with a grunt he fell, bleeding, into the gutter. She knew that she must hide. She ran back to Deawen's home and let herself in via a badly hinged door. She replaced it behind her and rolled the hinges under the door. She went into a darkened doorway, using the smell of ashes and animal tallow to lead her to the kitchen and her next meal.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

Deawen's household servants that were still awake didn't notice Frela heading to the kitchen. It was common for strangers to enter the house seeking an audience with Deawen. The steward of the house was in the kitchen enjoying a quiet moment and a cup of hot tea with the head cook. When Frela entered both looked up and the cook sighed. " What did I tell you, Our Lady is cooking a plot, bringing the likes of this one into the house." she wagged a finger at Frela " I suppose you are here for a meal. The Lady keeps a strict code of hospitality but don't you go and abusing it!" The cook lifted her heavy bulk off the chair in what she was sitting in and grabbed a wooden bowl and spooned in a generous helping of stew followed by a chunk of bread.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Frela was simultaneously confused and suspicious. She was not used to the concept of upper-class hospitality. She put on the mask that she had used as a handmaiden, smiled, and brightened her demeanor and hoping her pretty face wasn't too marred by the dirt. "Thankyou, madam. I had been waiting in the garden. They must have forgotten me. I only awoke a few moments ago and was hoping to obtain some nourishment before I return home for the night. When I am finished, I will be out of you hair...excuse me, care." She gave a small curtsy and sat on a bench, eating the stew slowly and politely. She finished mopping up the broth with her bread, breaking off bits instead of using the whole thing as just a vessel for soup into her mouth. When she was finished, she offered the bowl to the cook, who accepted it with pursed lips. Frela gave her most charming smile: "I promise, I will return." She left the kitchen and made a spectacle of going out the front gate, squeaking the hinges loudly and shutting the door with a ceremonious *thud*. She knew somewas would be looking for revenge. She made her way down to the first tier, where she lived in a decrepit room in a half-demolished building. She tossed her cloak on the window sill and dove onto her bed. It creaked angrily but held. Frela looked at the dark ceiling and let the memories come once again. Deawen, Morwen, and she, always playing together, they in their fine clothes, she in her peasant's garb of drab wool and sheep skin. They left together, the two rich girls leaving wealthy estates and families (at least she percieved them so), she escaping a household full of siblings and angry parents with too many mouths to feed. No wonder she had ended up like this. Still, she decided, it was better than the prospect of being the wife of another poor shepherd. She fell asleep, a light sleep, but dreamless, as she had always been used to.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

Deawen had watched Frela enter the house but made no move to stop her. Deawen was mainly curious on what her late night visitor was up to. She watched as she entered the kitchen then leave a few minutes later. Deawen smiled as an idea came to mind. Deawen followed her old "friend" through the city as quietly and discreetly as a cat. She stood before the decaying building and shook her head. She found a way in that would not cause trouble then found Frela's quarters and entered through a shuttered window. She stood tense ready for an attack.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Frela was aware of the presence in the room, but didn't moved, just watching. She allowed herself a sigh and a shift in position to give her better and less-noticable access to her dagger. Then she lay unmoving, still facing the ceiling.

_________________
Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

(Oh, Lasbelingur, Maeth addressed Elod. But, if he's not there in the prison anymore I could find another way to get them out.)

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

((Oh, sorry about that. I wasn't really awake... And I don't mind.))

Elod looked at her, his eyes widened. She must be a visiting dignitary, he thought. He bowed low. "Yes, ma'am, I am." he answered. He stood back up and smiled widely, "Would you like a tour of our facilities?" he asked.

_________________


Thanks Nurratiel, *Ennostiel*, PD, and Githoniel

She nodded and tilted her head to the side, "Yes, as you can well imagine my country is not in the best of conditions now. I am here to look and see if you have anyone of...interest would be a good word for it I suppose," her lips twisted into a grin and she raked a hand across her cheek to do away with an itch.

"Far too easy," the woman thought, "Although, perhaps it should be. I do not enjoy to complicate things."

She looked back at the man who bowed in front of her and nodded, "No need for that, lad. In Mordor you only bow if you want your head lobbed off. A nod will do just fine, thank you. Now," she flourished her free hand, "your facilities, as you have deemed them."

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me