Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26414442-20130724090620/@comment-14800267-20130809151448

Esmee was a little startled by the reception. She was used to careless words earning a backhand or fifteen kisses fromt he nine tailed cat. These people seemed... actually nice. She timidly sat down on the edge of a chair, as if it would, at any minute, buck her off like a wild horse. She had really only come to carry the Captain's bag and go to lunch- and although she regretted the missed meal, she might have even make (May Davy Jones forgive her for hoping) friends!

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Jane gave a slight inclination of her head to Bathilda's reference, not offended in the least. Making people walk the plank was a pleasing way to pass a slow day.

A slight smirk quirked her lips at Airmid's sudden and impassioned rant. This might actually end better than she had initially expected. The cursory inspection of them all had hinted only the tattily dressed Bathilda had any sort of interesting spark, but, she reluctantly admitted to herself, some people hid it better than others.

She spoke for the first time, a well bred queen's english accent layered over a voice like the darkest chocolate.

"I think you may be trying to convince us to discard our Legacies." She fixed Airmid a ice blue stare and toyed with the point of her hook, something of a habit.

"We are, as you have so perceptively pointed out, armed with the foreknowledge our sires did not have. I imagine each and every story would have been signifigantly different if they knew as we do, but yet, they force us to dance the same dance they did and accept the bitter pill of a hopeless death, acheiving nothing."

She paused throughtfully. "They tell us our stories will cease to exist if we do not do as they say, if we don't follow paths already made for us, but they lie. Have we not already done this? I see girls where there were boys, I see childhoods very different from those of our parents. My father went to Eton, not Ever After high and yet THIS has changed nothing, and that raises the very interesting question of why. Why are they making us do this? I initially would have guessed a hatred of us... more villainous types but there are" Her lip curled "Heroes amoung us. What then? What does Ever After ACCURSED BLOODY DAMNABLE HELLBORN CONTRAPTION!!" She was suddenly on her feet, pistol appearing from... somewhere. A shot rang out and the acrid smell ow gunpowder filled the room. The clock on the wall shed its lifeblood of glass, cogs and springs before it dropped from its perch and shattered on the floor.

As if nothing untoward had occured, she sat back down, gripping the handle of the weapon with her knees, taking out a lace kerchief and started to clean and load it again "...What does Ever After High, what does Principal Grimm gain from our deaths? Stories will not vanish, they will simply change."

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Esmee, who had thrown herself on the floor before Jane had finished shouting, gingerly got back to her feet and perched back on the chair just as calmly as her Captain. She was used to this sort of thing. She really should have thought to stop the clock when she came in. Maybe she'd write it on her hand. Lady Jane would be frightfully angry if the teachers confiscated his bloved pistols.