MADOX
Rebels
Rebel's Femme Fatale[M:0]
Your chromosomes have combined beautifully
Posts: 4
|
Post by MADOX on Sept 11, 2009 16:40:21 GMT -5
Madox rolled her shoulders, the lining of her shoulder blade pressing against the smooth, silky maroon fabric of the costume she wore. She gave an uncomfortable twist, the corset pinching at her waist was going to be a problem. A dull roar of polite and hushed chatter filled the room. The smell of coffee and smoke invading her senses whilst she waited patiently and with a blank, pretty face. That was her job right now. To wait and look pretty. Sweat prickled at her dark hair line, muscles warm and loose with the previous performance. It had been one of her favorites. An eastern sort of belly dance number combined with classic ballet. The best way to prepare for her real reason for being in the glamorous building. Her shoulders gave another roll and Madox encouraged her body to stay loose. Stay focus.
Bright green gaze outlined in dark kohl darted away from the liquored up business men, their leering eyes grazing over the fellow dancers in Madox’s troupe. She eyed the far door, partly hidden by the huge, rotting plant. Not that many could tell it was rotten. The lights were so dim, it was impossible to separate most colors. An easy job, she had been promised. A recovery mission from the last one. The one where Madox had the opportunity to stare down death in the face a moment longer than she would have liked.
Soon, the moment to slip forward and free would be here. She’d have to find Everette, her partner in crime, before any real action could happen. Her neck stretched up, clavicles straining against the mess of feathers at her shoulder. Frustration bubbled within her throat, begging to scream out a string of curses at the ridiculous outfit she was squeezed into. Long fingers curled into fists, dirt flecked nails digging into her worn palms. God, how she craved to just have the layouts in her hands. To really be able to trot them back to the Prince with a smirk upon her lips. Another success for the Femme Fatales.
The little nick-name for the Rebel girls who risked their neck to really be able to help the movement move forward sent the corners of Madox’s pinched mouth into a smile. It was her project. Her baby. The reason she fought to take another breath with each passing moment. Her inspiration to put up with her body being battered, broken, and bruised. Joscelin may be the heart of the Rebellion, but the girls were the blood pumping through it. They went where he could not, carried out his brilliant idea and work. On the turn, however, he could stand to loose a number of them. More would appear and grow into the right role he needed. It was sick, dark game but a game Madox was addicted to. Probably for this reason Miss Young was given the kamikaze like missions. The tall girl would take them on too, a stubborn lift in her chin and more than willing to dive into whatever it took. Whatever. It. Took.
Madox scanned yet again over the crowd. Searching for her friend, they needed to go. Needed to move forward before the window closed and they’d be shut out. There was no telling when a chance like this one would bloom before them again. Everette needed to show her pretty face so they could go! The girl rose onto her tip toes, looking as if she was simply stretching out her sculpted dancer’s legs. In reality, she was about to move forward without her best friend. Her partner.
Of course, that was until Madox finally did spot the blonde beauty. A quiet laugh waltzed from between her colored red lips. Leave it to Everette to flirt her way through this whole ordeal. The woman had a gift that Madox had to work out, harder than she could imagine. She strained to catch Everette’s attention, slipping past the gaggle of other dancers in her company.
On light feet, she silently walked through the door in an indirect path. Nodding her “hellos” and “thank you”s to the men that stepped in her way. Her head would dip, feigning a flush at the honor of being noticed by such a powerful man. Oh how Madox’s week, nay, her month would be a flutter of well being from this one man’s humbling words.
Ha.
Yes, yes, you’re all so lovely and nice. And with a few steps back, Madox’s shoulder blades brushed across the door she needed. The door she had to slip into then melt into the shadows until Everette worked her magic. Her fingers reached behind her, grasping the worn knob and she gave a testing turn. No noise emitted. The servants of the architect’s house had done a fine job of oiling up every little detail. She pulled the door open enough to slide her foot in, press her body against the rotting plant, before slipping on through. The door gave a grumpy clunk of wood moving back to rest.
Her smile was brilliant, she took her first step into the nearly dark hallway when she felt a pull at her back. Color drained her face. She had been caught? It was impossible. Her left hand slid to her skirt’s waist lining. It looked as though it was a movement of shock when in fact, she was reaching for the pencil like blade carefully tucked in. It was nearly dull and useless but for emergencies like this, it would have to do.
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t exhale the air that was locked in her lungs. She’d let them speak first, tell her their secrets. A long moment of silence passed and Madox dipped her chin as her head turned, meaning to look through the bastard through the thick of her made up lashes.
There was no-one there. A curious look crossed her features. Madox attempted to fully turn but found herself stuck. Her hand reached back, feeling for whatever had her connected to the door. Finger tips brushed over what appeared to be knotted string stuck upon a loose nail in the door way.
“Blasted corset!” she mumbled, sawing at the string with the dull blade. It took just long enough to push Madox to the edge of screaming out her anger before she could pull free. The useless and ruined corset still hanging from the nail. She’d have to do away with that..
Once she had yanked the garment free, Madox kicked it behind an ignored cove in the wall. A single bust of an old wrinkly man on a white pedestal would work as it’s cover. Now to find her own place to hide until Everette showed up…
Word count:1124 Tagged:Everette Private
[/color]
|
|
Everette
Rebels
Rebel's Femme Fatale[M:0]
They don't know what they've started: Confrontation
Posts: 7
|
Post by Everette on Sept 11, 2009 23:12:14 GMT -5
Everette Che gave a flicker of a glance at the remaining women around her. The majority of the dance troupe she had arrived with still remained amongst the crowd of party guests that demanded their attention. Though lower class than these fine, well dressed, and for the most part, well mannered men, there was no denying their beauty and ability to captivate what lurked within the men's breeches. The few women attendants of the gathering had their intentions set on one another; for they, like Everette, had heard enough of the male populace's excuses for compliments.
Nonetheless, though, she held her head high and her smile wide in presentation to those around her. Of course she was honored to be here, what middle class woman wouldn't be? Why, to have the chance to bed her way up the social ladder, one that she just descended less than a year ago herself, was exactly what she wanted. Naive fools, they were. Attracted to their wealth and power as they felt everyone else should be.
Tonight she would play Intrigued Mistress, flaunting her appearance and ever growing curiosity for that which bored the life out of her. All for Madox. All for Joscelin. All for the Rebels and that which she held utmost important.
The mood had brightened quite favorably from the last performance the troupe had given. Glasses were emptied and refilled, combined laughter from the crowd grew; the women she knew chiming right in as if genuinely impressed.
She peaked in each step, each sway between the tables the occupants were stationed. Very naturally, she would give a twirl and a small bounce in rhythm with the music that never ceased to play, under demand from the host himself. Socialize, she was told. Find the mark, take what was needed, and leave.
The gracious host, a locally proud renovator who recently worked under direct order of the Empress, was quite impressed by the outcome of tonight's festivities. He was a somewhat wealthy man, perhaps not quite deserving his position in the upper class as he was, but nevertheless grateful for it. In return for the hefty bonus he received for the work he did on the Palace of Elysia, he decided to hold a party for friends, family, and acquaintances to show off what good standing he was in with the Empress Camille.
Unfortunately, he was too wise and too alert of his party to allow any distractions. Eve would just have to settle for the next best thing: his apprentice. As if on cue, he was found at a far table, sitting and conversing with his friends that had come to admire his work simply because of his employer's achievement.
An easy task; nothing that couldn't be handled. And with her current equipment of pinned back, blonde curls, batting lashes, and a secured bust via the corset she wore so tightly, accomplishing her goal wouldn't be a problem.
Weightlessly, she advanced towards the gather of faces to make her presence known. They were currently speaking on matters of renovating the host's own home, no doubt throwing his sudden growth of income in the faces of those listening.
"And what is your opinion on arches and curves, good sir?" She pipes, lifting a curved left 'brow in mock curiosity for the sake of diverting his attention.
He paused for a moment, as if weighing the options of every response and which would best suit his guests' liking. He did answer, though, for everyone quieted down as if waiting the outcome of a possible challenge. "I think they look better on a maiden such as yourself. If you like, I'll show you just how strong that opinion is."
A smirk crossed his face, though only in the form of a light twitch deflecting from his smile. "I'd be honored," She shot back, taunting the man to her, forcing him to leave his seat with just a gentle nod of her head to his company and a spin on her heel to lead towards the hall. Away from this party would be nice. Finding the blueprints would be nicer. Luckily enough, her companion was quick to comply, hot on her tail as she dodged between the maze of tables and disappeared into the seclusion of the corridor.
Like any proper escort, he extended his arm and she gratefully took it; linking her own at the elbow with his. Her gloved, slender fingers found quiet occupation against the inside of his arm, occasionally brushing the cuff of his sleeve after he spoke; encouraged by the smile she would send. Her blue hues continually darted from each door in search of her fellow Rebel whom she hoped not to see. This could not go wrong. This could not be ruined.
She knew Madox was smarter than that. The woman trained her herself, teaching Eve the ins and outs of doing these jobs.
"You know, I've always been intrigued by your employer's craft. One can only hope he taught you well. I look forward to seeing all of Elysia touched by your talented hands..." She wavered, daring a stolen glance to the man at her side. His smile was brightened, her mark had been made. "Do you have any projects of your own?"
When he assured that he did, all it took was one giddy impression and the expressed desire to see them. Within seconds, the renovator's apprentice was taking her to the far end of the hall where a lone door stood in the right hand wall.
Inside was an architect's fantasy. The high walls were decorated with past, present, and future blueprints of building designs of elegant stature. The case shelves that held books of every worn type had a dark wood finish, along with every other piece of furniture in the renovator's study. The effect seemed to dim the lights. It would have been completely dark if not for the lit candle sitting on the desk stationing layouts of every sort. Sadly, from her position and given the lack of lighting, Everette could not make out which building they were for. No doubt, however, the prize the Rebels so sought were in the very study she stood in.
To amuse the apprentice, now ranting and raving of his pride and joy project that was no more impressive than the construction of a utility shed, Eve persisted to ask questions and compliment his astute genius on such ideas. She never got the chance to hunt down the documents she wanted, for as soon as he had worn out every detail of one outline, he would be jumping to the next.
As he was leading her back out into the hallway, Everette Che took a quick glance around them. She did not get what she came for. She could only hope that Madox saw where to go.
Word Count: 1143 Tagged: Madox [Private]
|
|
MADOX
Rebels
Rebel's Femme Fatale[M:0]
Your chromosomes have combined beautifully
Posts: 4
|
Post by MADOX on Sept 20, 2009 15:08:32 GMT -5
Madox swallowed the deep breathes of freedom with greedy gulps. Her fingers massaged her sore ribs with a sort of satisfaction as she casually flicked her gaze about the stuffed room. It had been tricky, waiting for the perfect moment to slip her frame through the closing door. Everette had man’s attention drowning in her charm. If Madox had wanted to, she probably could have gotten away with announcing exactly what she was doing. “Oh hey! I’m about to rob you!” Followed by a cocky thumbs up.
Poor bastard would never know what hit him. A passing stray thought almost made her feel sorry for the sap. Him and the other males the girls charmed and fluttered their lashes past in so many occasions. On a whole, The Femmes wouldn’t be able to do what they do if it wasn’t for those silly boys. Flash a smile, coo a pretty response and one would be dealing with putty. Pathetic.
Now wasn’t really the time to bother entertaining those thoughts. She was there for a reason and time was melting just past her grasp with each second. Gloved hands brushed over papers scattered here and there on the desk, not quite touching the parchment as she carefully scanned over titles here, decrees there. Surely they wouldn’t just leave out the map in the open. Not with a party raging not too far away. She’d need to be clever about this.
Bright eyes studied the curve of the large oak desk. The cluttered top wouldn’t be logical. Too obvious. Three thick drawers on either side looked simple enough. The key being “looked.” Madox bent her knees, dropping into a near perfect grande plie. Her knees and hips turned out like her feet in the proper fifth position. Who knew ballet could be a Rebel intelligence’s best friend?
Fingers traced over the lowest drawer, looking for a crook or key hole or something. She gave a light tug to the thick wood only to hear the thud of it being locked like she suspected. Two options were showing up. She could either break it and save the time they already lost and risk a higher chance of a chase or options two: look for a key.
Patience was not one of Madox’s strong points. In fact, she really had none what so ever. Pearly teeth gnawed upon a thick lower lip, resisting the urge to kick at the drawer with her booted foot. That would do no-one any good. None the less, she peered about the room again, scanning over the chair and coat hook. The awkward dead plant and thick over stuffed bookcase. At her ruined corset draped over the large chair behind the desk. Dusty window seals and even dirtier window panes. Yes, no key.
“I tried.” she defended to the silent room, a deviant smile pulling at her lips. Moments later she was yanking at the drawer, long arms curved with the rather un-lady like muscles she has developed with not only dance but training in general. Never knew when you’d have to kick ass or…break open a drawer. It was really no use, only her fingers were becoming busted and nails breaking.
She flopped onto her back and propped her legs up against the desk. Her skirts pooled around her thighs and she gazed at her feet that looked as if they were planted upon the ceiling. She could feel the pins in her dark tinted hair mussing, falling free of their captive state. Everette would no be impressed. The Prince would be less enthusiastic about her current plan of action.
“It’s not like I can actually do anything right now.” she mused. She knew the plans were in that drawer. She knew it like she knew her name was Madox and that Camille would throw a fucking fit when she found out what had conspired this balmy night. Everette was the calmer, more clever one. She could figure out the key situation. And knowing how things usually rolled, the key would be in plain sight. Madox seemed to focus too much on the bigger picture, missing the smaller details.
This is why Everette was her best friend. The brains. Madox smiled lightly, eyes closing as she hummed a random tune under her breath. Waiting. Always waiting. [/size]
|
|