#mouseofeire

“But at what cost?” 

Ireland. Of all the places he could have come why did it have to be Ireland. Four years in the trenches had rather cut him off from world news and it was only recently he was beginning to realize the gravity of the country’s situation. Inwardly he damned the hand of cards that had bought him passage to this god forsaken place. He thought he’d left the war in France, but here he was standing in the middle of a fresh one. At least there was no mustard gas here, or not yet anyway. 

"I particularly enjoyed the bit where he  called me a singer faded into obscurity.”  

Irene’s tone is light and unconcerned, but her eyes are hard. That the Right Honorable Ralph King saw fit to slander her in the press was quite interesting really, but the attack at her old career seemed a little below the belt. His insistence on treating her as if she had been some small club singer and not a prima donna opera singer was really quite infuriating. Clearly news of their broken engagement had finally found their way past his private estate and into the world of government scandal. She picked the paper up from where Mairead had thrown it, reading allowed. 

"Miss Adler was no more than a youthful impulse, one which I now  highly regret. That our engagement could not last was entirely her doing for she had an incurable greed and lusted after both riches and    other men. I  feel that our marriage would have been a foolish and  regretful decisions-                               Well, at least that rings true.” 

She folded the paper neatly before placing it down but her attempt at a smile became more of a grimace. They did say that hell hath no fury like a women scorned, a saying which she was quite determined to give truth.  

“Mairead would be interested in trying with Angela??”

----------

“It wasn’t wise of you to come here.”

The voice rose out of the shadows of the alleyway Mairead found herself in, as soft and as chilling as the tendrils of mist that swirled around her.  The speaker stepped slowly forward, blocking one of the two possible exits.  The whirring of clockwork punctuated every movement as the figure approached.  She was surprisingly small in stature, dressed in a dark cloak to keep off the chill and damp of the evening.  The hood concealed much of her face, but her eyes gleamed pale as moonlight, the way a cat’s eyes flash in the darkness.  Through the gloom, the metal hand that emerged from the cloak looked almost skeletal, a delicate construction of silver.

“Are you lost?”

@mouseofeire

“Don’t look now but there’s a fellow back there trying to follow you.” 

Her touch was gentle on the other woman’s arm and her voice soft in her ear. They were on the street leading away from those new cinemas, although Irene couldn’t have said what had been playing. She had simply slipped in at the end in order to leave with the crowd; an alibi in case it was needed in the future. Mind you, she could have looked a little more respectful. Far from the Sunday best of most of the women, Irene was in her walking clothes as she liked to call them. Comfortable trousers, shirt and braces; men’s clothing no less. She slipped her arm under the other women’s elbow and offered her a smile. 

Send ☁ for our muses to be stuck weathering a storm together.

He looked out at the rain and the storm with a quiet hum, pulling back and glancing over at Mairead, giving a little bit of a smile and a shrug. “It looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.”

Carefully, he pulled off his coat and held it out to her politely, hoping to help her stay warm as they waited for the storm to pass. “It can’t last too long, probably only an hour or so.”

My muse is being held hostage and is being experimented on. Send me “What have they done to you?” for my muse’s response to yours finding them shackled and chained in a small room.

Mairead’s heart leapt at the man’s voice.

“Who’s there?” She called out, unable to see through the murky shadows of the room where she was being kept.

She was unsure how long it had been since they had last come to get her– her body still bore the marks of their experiments, however long ago that had been– and part of her wondered if they had completely forgotten about her. It seemed likely, seeing as no one had thought to come record observations or feed her or give her water for what she could only assume were days.

“Hello?”

Wolfe stepped gingerly into the space, eyes sweeping the corners just in case there was a lab tech or a guard that slipped in. Dressed in a uniform purloined from a guard he killed when he escaped from his own cell, he silently moved through the darkness as he carefully moved forward.

This has been a facility to hold those with powers, but Wolfe could feel nothing from the woman bound and chained. As far as he could tell, she had no abilities.