is currently employed and on the verge of starting classes at a community college. not only are they quite busy with these things, but they are also a freelance artist seeking commissions. please be patient and understand that roleplaying is merely a hobby.
❛ i can’t help but notice your fixation with the magnifying transmitter. ❜
Fixation, a term that hadn’t fell short of the sheer awe which was induced by the object and the mere notion of it’s creation. Again, it is proven that quantum mechanics alone isn’t the only sure way to engross the prim Madame Lutece.
“But of course, the potential for such a device is infinite.”
Rosalind’s time spentas an omnipresent being hadn’t to do with taking a series of frivolous ventures in the cosmos she had now been familiar, but instead focused entirely upon the dynamics that meant further understanding. While these motives had been entirely selfish, it hadn’t been as though the undertaking inconvenienced anyone but her own self... But in this life, one which is seemingly void ofpurpose or any palpable change (had she chose so), satisfaction and consolation been in speculation and in turn, discovery. Though this would benefit no one but herself and her counter part, potentially. As of late, their uncanny perception had been rather b l u r r e d.
And so, she finds solace elsewhere… Particularly in a universe that is so unlike her prior– the array of life forms having developed and mutated into anatomical question marks… Almost resembling various sorts of insects. May certainly not have been favorable, worth the encounter.
Piece of literature in hand, the redhead’s eyes flick to and fro against the lines of the novel with utmost intrigue. Shakespeare had always been a favorite of hers, each sonnet, play, and so forth being enough to convince her of the man's sheer brilliance with wordplay and artistry. One would only imagine that the majority had awareness and took a liking to his widely known work whether it was his productions or written word. Glancing toward the stranger nearby, both lips part.
“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.” A greeting.
“–And so, you would simply…” Instead of going on to clarify herself, Lutece demonstrates her instruction as she follows through on the chalkboard, making mark after mark. By the time all was finished, she had been looking on an outline of one of the very many establishments which sat buoyant upon inflated materials, among other things. “But that’s enough of this subject, one that I’m sure you are far from engrossed.” Many typically weren’t. As long as everything had been under control and there were others whom understood, why take the time out of your day to fathom the dynamics yourself?
“As appreciated as it is, I’m afraid that my brother and I will have to decline. While an evening with you and the amiable Lady Comstock sounds ever so pleasant… I find myself a bit preoccupied with the upcoming deadlines…”
Pupils traveling down his figure, a rather unimpressed expression is induced. A faint ’hm’ leaves her throat, but only momentarily as though considering various scenarios that had to do with his attendance. Uniforms as intricate hadn’t made her weary as was accustomed to most, but instead, inquisitive. Although she hadn’t been as well versed in the tiers of military status, it had been apparent enough that the stranger had value and importance in his role.
Recognitionhad been in the form of a brief stare, Lutece hadn’t been acquainted with the young man nor did she necessarily want to be, considering his rather impressionable attire… Thankfully though, belligerence didn’t seem to be a prominent trait– rather, it had appeared as though he’d hadn't a single hostile fiber in his being.
Fingers overlapped, almost as though the madam had been anticipating something or other from the other in her presence. Consistently fidgeting, trembling; he had practically been the essence of turbulence.
A veil of death failed to leave her inanimate nor forgotten, the only altercations in their fall being their lack of tangibility and the rather prodigious disclosure of the cosmos and all secrets they’d bared. Answers to wonders that could never have been solved while alive had been at the ginger’s very fingertips, as had been phenomenons that she had never once conceived. SPACE AND TIME were no longer obstacles but instead, a tangle of stratum after stratum, the most insignificant of organisms and components alike going on to trigger and produce events that humankind had barely any grasp upon! Theories which were once mere notions of thought had been unfolding at the very seams and Rosalind, a woman marked by the utmost dedication toward the nature of solar system(s) and world(s).
She had been thankful, not simply for the rarity which kept her contemporary and her heightened perception but because she hadn’t been a l o n e . As he had with everything else, her counter part joined the Madam in death, though there had been minor disapproval of their current state of being. The only thing which held him in restraint being the surety of The Lamb’s prosperity and relocation from the universe they had once subdued her in. Lutece had grown sentimental, far more than she’d ever sought out to be, as a result a reluctant agreement had been made. It had involved but more universe hopping and obligations which Rosalind would meet, as promised… But this had been near fruitless, an experiment that would likely never flourish or result in any sort of positive outcome.
Yet, she advanced, devotion driving her toward his goal.
While it had been that the physicists were the cause of a great deal of commotion concerning the FALSE SHEPARD, there had been other happenings that included murder and unanticipated visitors in the floating utopia. One of the few being a familiar face and name, one which had been especially significant in Rosalind’s lives– both past and present. Alexia Ashford had been her name, a woman that had likely been strained with some form of grief after the redhead’s passing.
It would be after her death, that Lutece would welcome her back into the city made feasible by her creations.
In their own right, both women were hailed as mother within Columbia. Rosalind Lutece had given the city her wings; without the fair Lady of Science, there would be New Eden upon which the faithful and pure might step upon. She was a mother to the country, and in part, the people. Madam President certainly acted as mother to all; and the arrival of the heir apparent had only amplified the maternal way the city viewed her. Indeed; the pair were oft’ seen with the rosy-cheeked infant; dressed in pristine Sunday best with heads cocked towards the other in case she might have an opinion to release. However, public perception was blissfully off. While the womenfolk could run a country rather seamlessly, neither could raise a child and ne’er took delight in the task that had been set out for them. Indeed, the Widow Comstock muchly preferred hiding behind mountains of paperwork.
Gloved hand dragged down worn face; utterly ecstatic to be relieved of the thing that would come to call her mother. Would such hellish noise never cease? Did the child not see the amount of woe she was causing? Did she simply relish it?! Neither had the patience to deal with her for long, and the servants could not be expected to put up with the miserable little girl. Yet mercifully - and only for a brief moment that felt like heaven - did the infant cease incessant blubbering; rosebud lips puckering and tiny hands grasping fistfuls of air with ragged breath.
“A miracle, perhaps?!” Came the murmur from settee; prompting the rather exhausted widow to straighten.
Glee was short lived, however; the Miracle Child began to sniffle and howl with renewed fervour, having rested her tiny lungs. Hands were jammed over ears, and with a glower that rivalled Medusa’s did hiss escape the Blessed Mother.
“It appears I spoke too soon. Might she be hungry?”
In spite of the benevolent glow that these pair of women radiated against the clouds that submerged this utopia, profound enigmas fluttered across their stiff composure. Though adept in the process of administering that these brick built structures would cease to fall on account of either revolution or fluctuation itself, the divine conductors hadn’t been the sort of folk that they were believed to have been. When with the infant, Elizabeth, the pair of mothers appeared absurdly close to being vanquished at the mere constraint that the whines and shrieks had upon them. Unlike Rosalind’s child friendly counterpart, her composure remained solid and agitated at the very sight of her confidant’s offspring, the very image doing enough to drive her far away from any sort of persuasion that would result in a blanketed, fussy whelp. How it had been that any sort of woman found conciliation in these creatures, Rosalind might never come to know.
While her complexion involuntarily soured with the accompanied howls and whimpers that drummed through the woman’s ears, Rosalind persists with indulging the thing with tender brushes of digits against a pliable spine and pacifying consolation in the form of whispers which urged peace. Raising adolescents had been far too tedious and complex; cries meaning not one thing or the other but a great number of different dilemmas that one might not even be able to comprehend.
In a moment’s notice, fixation falls toward reddened cheeks and the sizzling tears which pooled in the chasms of her vast, cobalt eyes. Pleasant prospects had been taken into account, the hope which needn’t be made known through vocals imploring the babe for tranquility… The sirens had been put to rest for the martyrs– briefly.
“Surely. I would only presume that warm milk would do better than worse.”
It was here that the pair had pressed toward the kitchen, squabbling here and there concerning just how hot the milk ought to have been and whether there was a sure way that it would bring about beneficial results.
Though her words rang true, his patience would hold a different match in this game they played, each move seemingly taking ages just to make meaningfully and wisely. He didn’t regret any of his actions thus far, a rarity indeed even for the likes of him, however he’d not be without questions on any of this, let alone going about without warning of more possible blood and chaos.
The twins themselves were a mystery shrouded in riddle most times though they certainly proved which side of the board they played on, each move and counter-move made via their aid, so perhaps not all was lost. Not yet.
“Sure, but it’d be a real generous idea if you gave proper tellin’ on where I should head to now. The Vox are on the move with all those guns they were after, but where’s my deal? Now I got no airship an’ no clue as to what I should be doin’.”
The fellow had been persistent, always going on to inquire as to which procedures he’s wonted to establish in a particular order… As though the very concept of his success had been determined on account of very distinct actions and the such. While it is true that the Lutece’s had come to witness a diverse set of solutions toward each and every sort of momentary crisis that’s presented itself… But it hadn’t been their responsibility to assist the False Shepard with every aspect of his very purpose in this world and the next.
Heavily relying upon them doesn’t benefit him as justly as he’d come to imagine. Always the fellow is to be on edge, dubious of whether he’d ever receive support, and thus, causing his prosperity to practically increase more so than he could ever begin to fathom.
“Mr. Dewitt,” having begun as though the very address was a signification of her relinquishment, “Our occasional service should seldom be recognized as an obligation on our part… This is quite the predicament on your hands, but we are quite sure that there are various manners which you could go about solving it.” Emphasis had been put on his person, before a hand raises to make all seemingly brusque.
“–Without our aid, in this instance. Fret not, if it is direly needed, we will not do as much as abandon.”
