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Post by Hungary Hopeful on Aug 22, 2010 18:48:31 GMT -5
The sound of coins jingling at the bottom of the makeshift purse was like music.
The coppers had been exchanges for the handcrafted leather couch now being loaded on to the back of a small truck. Good riddance. You can't buy food with an antique sofa. Besides, it was the last bit of furniture left to sell. Growing up in a traveling caravan, the young Elizabeta had never lived with such fineries. Seats were made from bits of wood, old crates, or, if you were lucky, an old stool someone had thrown away. Or 'misplaced'. But she was rarely worried where she would sit next. No, it was always about just making do with what you had. Food was necessary, fancy sofas were not. Her stomach growled in agreement.
After the food she would also need more rounds of ammo, especially for when she tracked down the trader and stole his entire inventory. She had played the friendly female part well and learned where the man would be heading next. It was a trick she had learned after leaving home and having even less to her name. Desperate times led to desperate actions. With a new truck full of traded goods, there would be no paper trail to follow. She could head across country lines and sell everything quickly. More money meant bigger schemes. Then, when she was rich she could buy all the fancy, leather studded sofas a person could want. Hell, she could fill a room with them.
She strapped the coin purse to her belt and looked around the empty, makeshift tent. It had been full of Austrian heirlooms in the morning. To think, if she hadn't caught word of the market she wouldn't be weighed down by the heavy, metal anchor of cash. It would be all too easy to go out and spend the money frivolously but her father had taught her to manage money well. Safe investments lead to safe returns. That dress she had eyed earlier would have to wait until the pit in her stomach and a few other things were taken care of. For now, she set to work tearing down the tent and packing it up to return "home".
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Post by oneoftwo on Aug 23, 2010 8:21:02 GMT -5
The negotiations had gone well. Providing if they followed through, Roderich Edelstein was hoping to gain a few more aristocratic allies when it came to his positioning in the rebuilding town. Of course, to impress these people you needed money, and he hoped that the number of things he still had in his home were enough to stress that he still had that. There was the old undated painting of the man with the dog, the drapes he could have sworn that survived from the 19th century, the tea set from the olden days imported from Spain, and that couch he kept pristine in case there was ever a guest with a bad back.
That is, he had full hopes until he had gone home to find a majority of these ‘expensive’ things gone.
Thinking he was pillaged again left Roderich feeling panic stricken. Running to the nearest neighbor he could to ask what had happened, they spoke on a pretty face and a few other men gallivanting into his abode to take whatever and left. They thought he was moving!?
The nerve!
It didn’t take him long to figure out who it had been, and where she had gone. To think she would grab whatever she wanted without consulting him was rude! Much let alone not asking how much things were worth! Running through the bazaar was aggravating enough with his clothes getting tugged on by a few beggars back lit by fluorescent hues. Ah ha! There it was!
“Unhand that couch! I-It was unlawfully taken.” He tried to keep his composure, but it was hard when he was also regaining his breath. It was even worse when the men lugging away the couch insisted on ignoring him. Dark blue eyes shot a look backwards, but it would seem that his ‘lovely thief’ was too busy shutting down for the day. Oh, she’d get an ear full later, “I say- unhand it!” And while it wasn’t normal to be so outlandish, he needed that couch! What if the duchess decides to visit? It was only then that Roderich lunged forward to grab a leg of the piece of furniture, attempting to tug back on it. He wasn’t very physically strong, and apparently his ‘demands’ weren’t being heard either.
A least it would put on a good show for the young woman, who would see the moving men and the lone musician having a tug o war battle over a leather couch.
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Post by Hungary Hopeful on Aug 23, 2010 14:23:28 GMT -5
Elizabeta was on her second peg when the commotion over a couch finally reached her ears. She turned around in time to see Roderich tugging unsuccessfully at the wooden leg of the last piece of furniture she had sold. Szar! He was supposed to be out, preoccupied with some meeting with some people twice as stuffy as he was. It must have ended early. While she was impressed by his resourcefulness when it came to finding her, she was disappointed by his current behavior. It would ruin her plans to get everything back later.
The wooden beam crashed to the ground as she sprinted off to stop Roderich before he hurt himself. It wasn’t like he could harm someone else. How many times had she come to his rescue already? He never learned. When she finally caught up with him, it took one good tug to pull his gloved hands from the end of the furniture.
“Pardon my dear, confused, brother,” she offered to the rather large man in charge of loading the trader’s goods. “He’s not quite right in the head.” The last part she whispered. A sympathetic glance in Austrian's direction allowed for her to whisper something to him as well. “Keep quiet. I’ll explain later.” A fight would ruin their chances at recovering the items.
“Leave the good man alone, Wolfgang,” she added. “We’ll get you something nice from the merchant down the way.” Her grip was firm on hands, something she knew she would regret later. Why was it only in these moments that she could touch him like this? He just didn’t understand this world. They were even then. She knew very little about upper class society. That’s why he never invited her on his outings. And this whole scenario was one of the reasons she never invited him out either.
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Post by oneoftwo on Aug 23, 2010 14:45:15 GMT -5
This was obscene!
Feeling himself being dragged back from barking at the man twice his size from the couch only caused it to thud unceremoniously to the ground with a clatter. The foot cracked a bit, though it didn’t seem to matter to the burly trader who was more intent on looming over them both now, “What are you- This is-“ He would have yelled outright if his hands weren’t pinned to his sides. On top of it, she was going off saying he was –her- brother. “What!? I am certainly not! We don’t even-“
And then he got the death glare.
It was enough to give some pause in the outrage Roderich was feeling. What on earth was her plan? And why did it have to deal with –his- things. Even if it was a plan, being called batty on top of being related to her was enough to cause an unwanted flare of color in his cheeks. It was days like this he regretted forcing her to come back around. For as pretty she was, her manly mannerisms and back handed transactions was something short of maddening.
Regardless of their differences in looks, dress, and actions, the young man tugged his wrists back to sit back at his sides. He gave them a brief shake at aching at the sudden grip, but he wouldn’t show that. No, he simply offered a huff and nudged up his glasses. It didn’t help his sight any, but that was also a secret he kept well guarded, “I hope that you would at least –tell- me these things before you go and do them.” It was whispered under his breath upon turning away from the retreating couch and traders. He didn’t bother giving them the time of the day, much let alone an apology. They were going to knick it!
Providing the Hungarian woman went about in smoothing out the last of the kinked surfaces of the situation, Roderich turned to attempt to ‘help’ back up. This consisted of tugging at ropes uselessly for a moment before his annoyance got the better of him. Without anyone looking, he shot out a booted foot to the one support. Thankfully, it was in a strategic enough spot where there the whole thing fell in on itself, he just hadn’t expected it to fall partially on –him-.
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Post by Hungary Hopeful on Aug 23, 2010 18:50:39 GMT -5
The coin purse was alleviated of a few pounds and Elizabeta tried to make amends with the perturbed trader and his crew. Luckily, Roderich had the common sense to walk off towards the tent. These people did not seem the type that liked to be messed with. He didn’t speak their language, but she did. A few coins in his palm smoothed things over. While it wasn’t necessary, a few extra excuses and apologies didn’t hurt either. Of course, the young man wasn’t quite right in the head. And, yes, the money would be going towards his medication. Not that a sob story would win back the few coins she had parted with.
With things finally settled, she turned around to see the Austrian man being attacked by canvas, rope and pieces of wood. It seemed even inanimate objects were a danger. She quickly tucked the money away and let out a sigh before going to assist Roderich.
“Don’t struggle,” she said softly while trying to untangle his legs from the rope. It took a little while, more if the Austrian tried to wiggle around. The mess he made would take twice as long to clean up. Still, it would give them more than enough time to pack up and follow after the traders.
“I have an plan. I wish you would trust me,” she had every intention of explaining things to him. Eventually. Besides, he was much more concerned with rubbing elbows with the right crowd. That wasn’t going to land him any money. Or at least she couldn’t see how it would.
“Are you hurt?” She wasn't asking about his pride.
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Post by oneoftwo on Aug 23, 2010 19:28:03 GMT -5
He hadn’t expected the whole thing to come crashing down on him… much let alone deal with the tremendous weight it all was. It took some thrashing around, kicking off ropes and fallen pieces of timber, and pulling himself out from the dusty canvas tarp; but Roderich was saved from the inanimate objects as well. He was a bit dusty, but otherwise unharmed. Not that he acted like it judging by how he stood up and went to patting at his clothing furiously.
“I’m fine.. Just- thought I’d help.” And fail miserably. His brows kinked at this realization, and simply stood back from her as the Hungarian woman went to finishing it up herself. Offering to aid her now would only make him look more like a fool, especially when whatever ‘plan’ she had was going to stay sealed behind tight lips. “If you gave me a reason to, then perhaps I would.” Trust. In this world, it was hard to hold trust to anyone; especially a young woman with a pretty face who had tried to vandalize him once before.
The Austrian turned then, fidgeting with the long cloak he wore, if only to stop at one section of his chest. He didn’t let her get close for several reasons, but the one he feared most was what laid beneath the several layers of fabric. If she took it back, then she’d have no reason to stay… and then all of this would be for nothing. His lips twisted to the side in contemplation, eventually letting his hands drop back to his sides.
“I only ask that if you intend on pillaging my family’s belongings that you never touch the piano or the violin. Understood?” Roderich’s attempt to sound stern faulted the moment he peered over his shoulder. No, staring wasn’t very proper either… and thus, he turned back around to stare at something mundane. Like that pot across the walkway.
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Post by Hungary Hopeful on Aug 24, 2010 4:50:21 GMT -5
“I promise you, we’ll get everything back,” she said in a hushed voice.
Her attention never strayed from the poles as she continued to wrap them up in the canvas. Then the whole thing would be bound with the rope and ready to go. It was heavy but nothing she couldn’t handle. But now there was a part of her that felt a little foolish. She was acting no better than a common ox. That was probably why the young Austrian kept her around. At least she had the freedom to come up with some work for herself.
“And I had no intention of touching your instruments, Wolfgang.” Emphasis was placed on his new nickname. It fit like a pair of the fine gloves Roderich always wore. They were starting to show signs of wear. If things hadn’t have happened they way they did, those gloves would easily be replaced. “Nor will I do so from now on. Ígérem.”.
Her calloused hands dug around in the coin purse, collecting a few for herself. “Here,” she said with a heavy sigh before tossing the entire thing in the young man’s direction. It sailed through the air and would collide with his chest if he wasn’t able to catch it. Her aim was true as always. “You should take a look at the green and white tent. They have some really high class stuff there. It’s probably all stolen but it’s legit.” She didn’t need the new dress. It would probably get dirty or torn even if she did her best to take care of it. Besides, the way his eyes seemed to quickly drift from her was enough of a hint.
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Post by oneoftwo on Aug 24, 2010 8:22:43 GMT -5
Perhaps he had gone too far to mention the instruments? Judging by the sound of huffs coming from her efforts to tie up the tent herself and her nickname, she seemed a tad irritated. However, he was more entranced by the name. Unlike when he was struggling to stand by himself before, he allowed himself to drift on creativity’s wing while she finished up. His usual ‘blurred’ vision cleared within his head and gave him a lovely picture of himself dressed more simply (But never less striking). He was holding an old violin while a small boy sat upon his piano. The music was astounding for one his age, and for that, it caused a lump to form in the young man’s throat.
“Where did you get that-“ He never finished, for the moment he had turned around, a coin purse was being chucked at him. It bonked into soft layers of expensive cloth, but thankfully it landed into his palm and not into the grimy street. He glanced down to it, checking the weight and finally bringing his sapphire eyes upwards to where she stood. She wanted him to go and checks tents? But then what if she scuttled off without him being able to say more than a few terse words? Guilt tugged at him and practically forced the Austrian into a low bow, “Wait for me?”
He could only ask, not demand it. But should the Hungarian woman take her time in wrapping up what was left, she’d soon find that the hustle and bustle of the winding down market place would be filled with the sound of strings. It was a small piece spoken from the heart, judging by the rhythmic churns of notes coming from the far end of the white tent. Roderich had found himself a cello that looked to be well older then the two of them put together, but it wasn’t the instrument that the young man had his eyes on.
Once the tune had made itself to its lulling finish, he had a few people gathered around, looking in moderate aw. In that moment, the Austrian felt at ease. There, the kid in his fantasy would have liked that, “See? I told you it could be played. The strings are old… these are for tuning it. A few need to be replaced, but if you handle it with care and keep it from humidity...” He paused to pull away from the instrument, softly placing it back into its velvet lined case, “…It would play for anyone.”
The old woman within the tent nodded, perhaps in a daze from the music… but it was more likely to his educative angle. Regardless, the long dress within her arms was what Roderich had been eying the whole time. It was elegant, semi-formal, and still in wonderful condition from olden times. Probably a priceless piece, but one that Elizabeta would see being passed off without a single stone or coin being exchanged. With a few hushed thank yous, Roderich was seen ducking out from the tent, dress wrapped in a clear gauze to protect it.
Had he expected to see her there?
It didn’t matter. Providing if she let him, the Hungarian woman would find the fine article of clothing being gently settled between her arms, alongside with the still heavy thud of the coined purse being pressed into one hand, “This suits you better anyway.” The dress or the money? Regardless, he didn’t explain what had just happened and simply moved to help with carrying what was left.
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Post by Hungary Hopeful on Aug 24, 2010 22:02:09 GMT -5
“Of course, I will.” Golden curls bounced against the back of the Hungarian gypsy as her focus returned to the tent. She had faith that Roderich could wander around the marketplace and not get into trouble. While giving him the purse was worrisome, it was meant to be a sign of trust. At least that is what that gesture meant amongst her people. Who knew what kind of things higher class people did. It could be the same. Money had value no matter what station of life you came from.
Maybe he would come back with a sofa to replace the one she had just sold. It had been rude of her do go ahead with her plan and not tell him. Yet he would’ve never agreed to it. Honestly, these things meant nothing to him other than their monetary value, right? So a bag of gold was just as good as a piece of furniture. As the last bit of rope was tucked into itself, the soft baritone notes of the cello reached her ear. It could’ve been anyone playing but the melody sounded like the young Austrian. Dedicated, practiced, and elegant.
Elizabeta fell in love with him every time he played. He ignored the world and all the problems it threw his way. Lost in the moment, all he could play was the truth. She sighed and leaned against the carefully wrapped poles. So, it seemed he would be returning with another instrument. They would have to drop it off before she put her plan into action. At the sound of his boot steps, she turned around to greet him. She was met by layers of luxurious fabric and the heavy coin purse.
“I… don’t deserve this,” she said after an awkward silence in which she turned a deep scarlet color. That wasn’t right. She should be appreciative but it was hard to accept such nice things so easily. “T…thank you.” Besides, all the work she had done today had been for him, not the other way around. For sure, she would get back his things as soon as possible. Trading him the dress for the well-packed tent, Elizabeta stayed close to spot the young man if it turned out it was too much to handle.
“I think we have enough time for me to try this on. I’ll explain my plan then. “
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Post by oneoftwo on Aug 25, 2010 7:46:22 GMT -5
There! She looked positively embarrassed. It was a sign of acceptance from a woman, as well as being humble. Perhaps she wasn’t used to being granted things, much let alone on the account of him acting so brash regarding her plan in selling up all of his things. Regardless, he took the tent accordingly and tried to the best of his efforts to keep the thing from toppling over on either of them.
“It’s not a matter of deserving or not. I wanted you to have it. I’d hope that you’d appreciate its beauty.” Much let alone with the Hungarian woman in it, he could finally see her without all the rough edges. Roderich revealed a small smile, but allowed for it to be hidden as he took his gaze up to the road before them.
“Very well. My own abode isn’t far from here.” Another reason why she should have expected him to trot down here sooner. Regardless, with the forming idea’s of what her devious plan would be, the walk back to his own home went by fairly uneventful. A few passerbyers gave odd looks to the ‘couple’, as they had been for the past few months now. Many disapproved of his affiliation with the ‘vagabond’ type, but very few had the gumption to say anything. He was sure her own ‘folk’ equally disapproved of him, and was more aware on how ‘vocal’ they were about it as well.
The manor he had lived in for so many years no longer stood, so a substitute was a large four story house he had acquired with ease after the demise of his parents. It sat in a mix of brick work and a baroque façade, letting almost anyone know that whoever walked past here would see that the person staying here was ‘beyond’ important. However, it was practically –barren- on the inside. It was something Roderich gave a small ‘tut’ to upon seeing the lack of material wealth all over again.
But yes, she had a plan. Let her say what it was.
“You can change in the tea room if you want- it’s not like there’s anything there anymore.” Dark blue eyes lingered on her a second longer then it should, “There’s doors as well, I’ll just si…stand here.” Providing if she looked over, he gave a small smile and folded both hands behind his back. The nagging to return to the grand piano sitting in a few parlors away ate at him. But he’d hardly be able to hear her explain anything if that were to happen.
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Post by Hungary Hopeful on Aug 25, 2010 15:55:27 GMT -5
Elizabeta spent most of the walk home unable to keep her eyes off the road. A warm glow still settled on her cheeks. Usually she would carry her head high, ignoring the stares from others. Growing up as a societal outcast had prepared her for such treatment, especially the looks of disproval. Yet for all that Roderich had snubbed her, he went and did things like buying her gifts. At first it angered her. He treated her like some pet. She wondered if he wasn’t embarrassed by her. But then, the realization that there was a part of her that enjoyed his attention unsettled her. She had always worked hard for other. Nobody had ever shown her this much care.
She stayed close to Roderich, periodically brushing her arm against his. Having someone else around was something else she wasn’t used to. It had been just her for the past few years. That was until she made the mistake of following him home. His music had attracted her attention, as it always did. It was wrong of her to get so invested in a potential target. Now she was bound to him until he returned what was rightfully hers. In the beginning she had daydreamed what she would do with her freedom. However, much like her pleasure in his attention, the Hungarian found herself enjoying his company. Her parents would probably laugh at her. So foolish.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as they finally entered the manor. The house did look melancholic without its fineries to fill every nook and cranny. Well, at least there were still a few carpets and drapes. She was one woman and there was a lot of nonsense still in the house, especially upstairs. “I’ll be out in a moment.” She went to the washroom instead. A day’s worth of work had left her covered in a day’s worth of grime. And the luxuriousness of the dress had not gone unnoticed. She couldn’t just squeeze into it caked in marketplace dust. The pitcher of water was a muddy color and the towel no longer white by the time she was done. A quick pause in the mirror allowed for her reflection to take her in. No matter how hard she scrubbed, the gypsy in her would always be there. Ladies wore their hair up nowadays, didn’t they? It took several attempts to get her hair to stay up on her head with a simple ribbon. The wild waves didn’t want to be tamed. With a sigh, she examined the layers of fabric and petticoats. Magyars didn’t wear anything this fancy so her experience in it on was extremely limited. Roderich would be waiting out there for a good while, listening to china break and a series of Hungarian curses. Not very lady-like at all. Then again, the women who wore these things tended to have a team of servants to help them into it. Being a curvier woman, the dress certainly clung to her tightly. Her chest barely managed to fit. What was so glamorous about looking like an Austrian sausage?
When it seemed she had done all she could to get into the dress, Elizabeta left the washroom in search of Roderich to help her finish the lacing of the bodice. It was improper to ask a man for such help but it was better than wandering around the house naked. If the young man hadn’t strayed too far, he would see her emerge from the room (just barely, those skirts are huge) and toddle over to him in the sumptuous dress his talent had won for her
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Post by oneoftwo on Sept 6, 2010 10:59:25 GMT -5
Waiting for her to dress was something he found familiar. Sitting in an open bay window left the Austrian shifting notes in his head every so often to come up with a better composition. It was a pastime he found much joy doing no matter how odd people tended to look at him while he tapped his foot in a rhythm that didn’t exist outside of his internal symphony. Today was different however, especially when the un-called for sound of shattering porcelain ripped through his sonnet.
Roderich visibly winced, knowing exactly where she was and what she had shattered. “T..Those were from China.” An old tea set that matched the washroom perfectly had been collected by his parents from a vicious bid war. It was said that the set existed back when a ‘silk road’ existed. Whatever that meant. Still, the Austrian didn’t rush over to yell or ask if she was alright. Not when he knew by her magnitude of profanity that she was just fine.
Back to the orchestra in his head.
He shifted to conducting inwardly while leaning heavily upon the one wing of the bay window, finding his ‘niche’ and closing his eyes. There, it made the experience all the more real. With a swish of his rodless hand, the aristocrat went to directing his entourage. This went on for several minutes, so long that by time the disheveled Hungarian woman appeared before him, that he didn’t notice. It wasn’t until an exasperated huff that passed her lips did the composition break apart, and the sweet crash of reality set in.
Deep blue eyes cracked open, and the sight before him was a wonderful one. Even if she was only partially dressed judging by the flaps hanging behind her, the rest of the visage was enough to cause a bit of color to rise up in the young man’s face. He just wished he could see the finer details from how far back he was sitting, “I-I see you need some help.” He caught himself, cleared his throat, and tipped up his glasses. It wasn’t long before Roderich had shifted up to his feet and closed the gap between them (however keeping a respectable distance).
“It…suits you.” He stopped at her side, lifting his gaze upwards from the ‘problem’ at the back. He didn’t just run over to go and do it. No, he’d wait like a gentlemen to be asked instead of running over to string her up. Funny, it might be the glare of light coming from the room, but he swore he saw a tinge of pink in her face as well.
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