Demimonde Logs

LOGS / 12/15/16
09:20:29 [Edmond] The pistol, originally designed by Samuel Colt and later modified by Edmond Dagenhart, was a comforting weight upon his belt as his shillelagh, ostensibly a cane, clack clacked with every step down the cobbled streets of London. The night was cool, but warm enough that a thick, heavy mist lay low about the ground, rising only to about his chest height and parting in his wake like the water before the prow of a great sailing vessel. Grim-faced, Edmond was dressed in colors of grey and black, enough mottled in the colors to break up his form in the night, but not enough that he would be out of place were he to walk into any high-society house in the great city. Well, perhaps the gorget might be a bit much, but that was unimportant and easily removable if one knew where the hidden clasp was. The are hung heavy with the smoke from stacks, the coal smoke pushed downward and rolling easily upon the ground and only adding to intensify the mystery of the mist. Edmond was walking in a manner that looked casual, -c-
09:20:52 [Edmond] but, in truth, it was anything but. He was on the prowl, hunting a disgusting beast that he had found to be using this particular nexus of streets as its hunting ground. The creature had been a female, once, or so it appeared. She still had all the right parts in all the right places, as far as Edmond knew, as she spent a great deal of time masquerading as a prostitute in order to lure in her delectable damned morsels. The minutes grew longer, and still Edmond walked, his body smoothly carving his path through the mist, if one could call it that with all the smoke and sewage vapor intermingling with it. And then there it was. That horrible creature stood with its back to Edmond. He didn't know HOW he know that this figure, what looked like a lovely young lady from behind, dressed in clothes form fitting and grossly inappropriate for any civilized function, was, in fact, the vampire. The fact remained that he knew, and he knew without a doubt. Just past her stood a man of middle years dressed in black and-c-
09:21:39 [Edmond] white with a tall hat upon his head. He wore an eager, hungry look upon his face as he planned his moments with this morsel he had purchased for just the few moments of time before his loins exploded amongst the other secretions that would be dormant inside of her. At least, that's what he thought. Quiet and calm, Edmond turned into that dead-end alley, his shillelagh now held aloft with one hand as he approached from behind. Tensing his muscles, Edmond swung with all of his strength, the steel-and-silver shod end crashing into the back of the thing's neck as it began to turn to face him. The power of the blow produced a sickening POP as her spinal column was severed immediately, rendering her momentarily stunned and weakened. The man, wide eyed, opened his mouth to scream and Edmond simply looked at him, death in his eyes, and said, "Do not." After a few moments of pregnant silence, the John screamed anyway and made as if to run past Edmond and out into the night. The temptation to simply-c
09:22:12 [Edmond] pull his gun and shoot the man in the face was a strong one. Edmond could picture the sudden jerk of the man's head as his face was impacted by a .45 caliber pistol round. He could picture the jiggling of those substantial jowels as his head settled its way to the paving stones. He could picture the neat little round hole in the front, surprisingly small with perhaps a bit of blood and powder burn around it. The back, though, the back would not be neat. The back of his skull would be ripped nearly completely off, more due to the intercranial pressure of the bullet traveling through at high speed than the bullet itself taking that much matter with it. All of this came in a matter of microseconds, and the temptation was subjugated beneath reality. The man wasn't in the way, but he was a liability if he ran off into the night just now. And a gunshot was sure to attract much attention. A quick rap to the skull with the butt-end of his shillelagh sent the poor sap crumpling to the ground, his limbs weakened and-c-
09:23:10 [Edmond] useless in unconsciousness. Pulling his bilbo out in a smooth motion, the sound of steel upon leather scraping through the night. The vampire began its movements to stand, its body knitting itself back together. Now was the time. He did not want to stand up and fight the thing. It deserved no honor! A quick, smooth strike of that weighted rapier, designed to be a slashing and hacking weapon as well as a quick and stabbing menace, parted the flesh of its neck, sending the pretty female head rolling away and the body lifeless to the ground once more. Lifeless? Wasn't it lifeless to begin with? Shaking his head wryly Edmond bent to pick up the limp form of the vampire in a fireman's carry, the surprisingly heavy dead weight pushing painfully against his gorget, but he didn't care in the slightest. Keep the protection. Moments later, he was crossing a bridge, tossing a young woman's head into the Thames as he moved off into the night to dismember and burn the corpse. One less fang on the streets. -c-
09:23:40 [Edmond] A good night's work culminated from weeks of research. It could have only been better if she were the one who had done it... who had stolen his Dahlia. Oh well. He'd get there eventually, and, to be sure, he'd just kill em all and have done with it. -fin-

09:38:34 [Elsie] The elusive female, draped in black with an equally black hat atop her head stood at the corner of the street a veil of black lace over her face to hide features from sight. To many she was much a widow in mourning and non would question her presence in terms of respectability. Behind her, a lady’s maid carried several packages while beside her stood a younger man who’s arm was invariably woven around her own. Dark of night draped the City with it’s pallor of mist that was much as part of London as was it’s crowds, poverty and prostitutes. Her steps moved in a kindly manner as she crossed the cobblestone road, cane in her other hand of silver that caught on occasion the rays which spewed from the gas lamps that lit the street in an eerie fashion, revealing also the waves of fog that curled in vernacular motion within the air. Certainly to most it appeared she was out for the evening - perhaps returning with this young gentleman from some gathering or other that Aristocrats attended - mayhap even the Opera.-
09:38:38 [Elsie] It would allow for her to be there this late at night. Though as a widow she had far more freedom than a single, unmarried woman afforded to her which was ideal for the given situation. The hunt for the Hunter was on and Elsie was very much a part of that. As Lead investigator, she was also a field investigator driven by those upstairs of the Walpurgis to abscond this man who was killing Vampires with out recourse. Though that too being the same job as the society it was hard to find fault with his actions. He was, in all senses doing them a favor but unruly vigilantes were not to be warranted and his actions could lead to the Societies downfall if the veil between Worlds were to fall. Especially if Spooks were to become real to the many Londoners who were entirely ignorant. “This is good, Jacobs .Let‘s pause here a moment” Spoken to the operative beside her she paused in her steps having crossed the street. They’d followed the -
09:38:49 [Elsie] Hunter to some degree only to watch him venture of with body - the remains of the Vampire flung over his shoulders. “We don’t want to get to close.” The stall was timely - a few moments to separate Emond from her small repertoire of agents. His figure clad in shadows was barely discernible but the Witch was more than adept at tracking prey and sure enough they were furthering their path once more, trailing Edmond until the last moment. It wasn’t openly obvious they were following the Hunter but eventually their paths -would- ultimately cross after the body had been burned. Ultimately it was Elsie’s idea to actually -meet- the man, without giving too much a way. It was then set in motion that once the Hunter had gotten rid of the Vermin, Elsie and those with her would come across the man as the flames died to embers, a hand upon her lips and a gasp of shock spreading from within to fill the air, her body leaning against the male at her side as if to faint. “What.. What is.. “ she spoke, the words -
09:39:10 [Elsie] filled with dread and emotion, understanding that the man had likely just killed someone..

09:57:07 [Edmond] The flames were mesmerizing as the young man stared into their depths, watching the hypnotic dance that seemed simultaneously erratic and created of the perfect order of things. As the minutes passed, it was as though Edmond could see the geometric patterns from which the ravenous fire was made, each angle and curve melding smoothly into the next to make an intricate interplay of oranges and reds. He could feel the pressure of the spirit within the flame pushing against him, though he knew such a thing was preposterous. Almost as preposterous as killing a vampire female masquerading as a prostitute on the outskirts of that district most famous for the murders of prostitutes. Jack the Ripper. THe name was one to send chills down the spines of hardened men and women alike at the sheer ferocity of the kills. Each death had been played and staged specifically, the dark tableu leaving behind a puzzled trail that no officer of the law could even wrap their heads around, let alone begin piecing together. -c-
09:58:06 [Edmond] With a cynical, even mocking glance skyward, Edmond crossed himself, giving this kill over to the God who either did not exist or didn't give a shit in the face of monstrosities such as this thing. "I'd say goodbye," he said to the corpse as the flames began to die. "But I think good riddance is more apt, don't you?" He flashed that cynical grin at the macabre scene once more even as he pulled his hip flask from its pouch and took a long pull of potent rum imported from the Islands in the Americas. "Cheers, fang whore. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me," he laughed out loud and walked away, the steady tap tap tap of his shillelagh marking his passage. Little did Edmond know, he had been being followed, though those who sought his trail arrived minutes after the mist had swallowed his form, welcoming him into her embrace. -fin-

10:14:01 [Elsie] Timely enough to see but not effective to warrant an introduction, Eslie coming upon the scene which would bring horror to the depths of any soul, was one she was quite familiar with. Though it appeared that she’d miscalculated by some slight precision the chance meeting. As such the man, hidden in billowing coat, hat and mist was invariably gone just as she spoke out. Whether he had heard her or seen the widow left under discovered. “What now, Ma’am?” Jacobs spoke while Elsie kept her face hidden by the lace mask eyes however unhindered at the masculine figure dissipated into the unfurling arms of Fog. A narrow miss, but not one to send the woman into a fit of anger. Ever the penchant Aristocrat she had a visage to keep up, an appearance to play and beyond the Society she had to mingle among Society as expected. In truth her widow days were over, her husband having gone over a year now she was able to dress and appear at more aptly appropriate functions all the while working in tandem and secret -
10:14:16 [Elsie] with the Society. It was a job - no a life that never stopped. One that would continue unto her death. As a direct descendant of the Society’s originator, she would always hold a place within it’s walls - her magic was power, her innate gifts useful but there was still little room for failure. “Well, we’ll call it a night, Jacobs. Next time We’ll be better prepared. I think a change of scenery for now though is warranted.” She paused to tap her hand upon his arm that was still woven with hers. “The carriage for home will suffice as I must prepare for a social event. The British Museum of History is having it’s fund raising Gala and I, unfortunately have to make an appearance like Cinderella attending the ball.” Her accent was clipped, yet her voice was husky, sensual under tones that revealed behind the woman who stood for Good against evil was a very passionate soul. “You, on other hand shall go home to that lovely wife of yours and enjoy the rest of the evening off. I shan’t need you further.” Jacobs -
10:14:29 [Elsie] nodded tugging his arm from Elsie’s before whistling with fingers to lips. Moments later a two horse drawn carriage revealed it’s self by the crack of hoofs over the cobblestone coming to a stop beside them. “Lucy, I assume you have everything ready for me back at my apartments at Primrose? For the evening?” She asked her personal maid who was also a member of the Walpurgis. “Yes Ma’am. All ready. I thought red would be quite suitable. With a nice bustle.. “ Lucy offered with a gleam in her eye followed by a mischievous wink. Elsie shook her head as they climbed into the carriage, Jacob’s leaving the scene as instructed. “The red silk? Ha.. I suppose that shall do. “ And the ride back to Primrose Gardens was taken. It would be another hour before Lady Buchanan arrived at the Affair and being widow it was entirely feasible and acceptable for her to arrive alone. The dashing scarlet attire was a shocking yet singularly enchanting upon her slender figure. -
10:14:38 [Elsie] Conforming to her shape with it’s corset like top, low waist, silken skirts and bustle behind to add to the allure. Along with black silk gloves that rose to elbows she cut a style that was graceful and elegant. Hair was swept into ebony waves, with an a few small feathers entwined. Jewelry was basic enough. Let the night begin… She thought to herself.

10:46:27 [Edmond] The night was a wonderful one, Edmond now a bit more relieved after having let out some of his aggression on the well deserving vampire bitch. He hated the existence of the creatures and, if given the opportunity, would gladly die if it meant that they would be exterminated forever more. The unfortunate circumstance of living in modern London society and holding somewhat of a rank and social position was that Edmond was forced to primp and prune himself until which point he was dressed in finery of the latest fashion and make appearances at local events of charity and so forth. The hypocritical world, so full of sin and vice, held philanthropy in the highest of regards, putting on a pedastle those who are able to raise the most for this or show up at that event. The truth of the matter, though, was that these events were excuses for people to get together and compare their metaphorical cock sizes, dropping trousers in the middle of the room in the form of property claims and donation receipts. Of course, -c-
10:47:00 [Edmond] none would be so crass as to actually pull out a receipt for the donation, but, that was completely beside the point for those in the know, would actually know. It was with a heavy sigh that Edmond entered his own apartment fifteen or so minutes later. The necessities were taken care of rather quickly, his body cleaned and perfumed, his clothing changed, and every trace of tonights conflict hidden beneath the work of cleaning his body. He could not relax his mind, though. He could not subjugate the thrill of the hunt he had felt, the euphoric flood through his entire body when his heavy club had impacted the vampire for the first time, sending it crumpling to the ground and temporarily helpless. Dressed in modest finery, Edmond left his house many minutes later, his Shillelah replaced with a walking cane, his belt pistols left within a drawer, and his Bilbo replaced with a more traditional rapier that strapped fashionably at his belt. He wore a suit of the deepest midight blue, nearly black, beneath which-c-
10:47:30 [Edmond] his crisp white shirt full of lace and fluff shined brightly in contrast. The fedora upon his head was perched jauntily over his shoulder length hair, serving only the purpose of fashion as the sun had long faded from the sky. Into the mists once more Edmond strode, his confidence that of a man who feared no ambush from the periphery as he was still well armed, as far as a 'gentleman' went, his left wrist still holding his two shot pistol and his right a drop-stilleto of about twelve inches of length. Without incident, he found himself presenting his purchased invitation at the front door of the British Museum of History. All being fair, he was not of a social standing that this event was required attendence, nor was he of sufficient wealth that it would be faux pas for him to neglect attendence. Being one of the partners in London's premier psychological research firm, though, and in need of general funding from both private and public backers, it would not be an intelligent decision to miss the-c-
10:48:22 [Edmond] social gathering of the many stars that shown brightly in London's dark streets. "Dagenhard!" a pompous man said, waddling up and extending a chubby hand in Edmond's direction. "I was just telling my wife about your poor Dahlia, my boy," said the senior partner in Reginald Anders' Psychological Institution of Ethical Research (RAPIER). "Oh, yes," Edmond said, holding forth a firm facade of feigned frivility. "I figured that the fact had been well settled by now, sir. It has been, after all, a bit over a year." There was no anger, hurt, or really any emotion in Edmond's tone as he spoke to his boss, the pompous ass that he was. "Ah, yes... quite right," nodded Reginald Anders. "You remember my wife, Lara, right my boy," he stated more than asked without missing a beat. Beside him stood a picture of contrast in a spouse. Where Reginald was big boned and big joweled, Lara was fine featured and elfin in appearance with long blonde hair teased into -c-
10:48:52 [Edmond] intricate curls about her narrow shoulders. She stood nearly a foot shorter than her husband, not topping the five foot mark. "Oh yes. Wonderful to see you again! ," Edmond said, his tone all respect and business. "Sir, I need to see someone. Perhaps I will speak to the two of you more as the evening wears on!" Having made his excuses, Edmond carefully weaved his way through the crowd, his only intention to get himself further away from his boss and, more importantly, to get through the evening as quickly and painlessly as possible. -fin-

11:07:38 [Elsie] The flute of champagne to her lips, gloved fingers held the delicate stem of glass while eyes of jade peered the gathered crowd with complacency. Whispers and murmurs filled the air while orchestral strings played the most popular music of the day. A variety of classics though soon enough the gathering would be opened for dancing including the Grand March and of course the opening Waltz. Though for now, the crowds were still gathering and as typical the fashionable scene was proving to be quite the crush. “Lady Buchanan! Oh, how delightful it is to see you again!” A male voice resonated from across the room with it’s perfect accent and well established words. A familiar voice at that. Turning slightly she lowered the flute as eyes settled upon venerable Oscar Wilde who seemed rather bored at the situation around them yet his eyes shone with a hint of mischief, it not a little madness. An honorary member of the Society she had met Mr. Wilde on several occasions. “Ah, Mr. Wilde, indeed a pleasure.” As -
11:07:52 [Elsie] she extended her free hand his way in terms of greeting. Taking hold of those slender fingers clad in silk the male bent forward to place lips upon the top of the hand before releasing. “Please tell me, how is your latest book coming along?” Elsie asked with inquired interest that was perceptibly upon her features, luscious red lips parted in a graceful smile while the author of several accomplishments stood before her. Though while he spoke her attention was tugged elsewhere as riveting jade oculars surrounding the area following a gut instinct. She wasn’t sure what it was that had her eyes drawn upon the male - a male she couldn’t put a name to but one she recognized likely from other events. For a moment she gazed over Mr. Wilde’s shoulder at Edmond only to be drawn back to the conversation by the furtive and inquisitive man. “Enough of me though, Lady -
11:08:11 [Elsie] Buchanan. I must say it’s a pleasure to see you in such resplendent color rather than black. Not that black didn’t suit you but it can make one’s skin so sallow.” Inclined to agree, she laughed softly the flow melodic as it carried through the given space. “Quite right you are. But if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Wilde - I see a former colleague of my late husband’s I must say speak with.” With that forced smile though didn’t quite meet her eyes she ejected herself from the awkwardness that was Ocsar Wilde in hopes of finding such a friend she could use as a means to get away. Though again her eyes were drawn toward Edmond to whom languid hues were settled upon once more as she took another sip of champagne. What was it about him that seemed so vaguely familiar.? Regardless, surely there was better conversation to be held!

11:26:20 WalterElric had forgotten how much these stiff coat’s chafed. Still, he cut quite the figure that he’d not thought capable of in his long years. True, the man was nearing fifty years of age, but, circumstances being what they were had dealt him a strange hand. As Elsie maneuvered her way through the party, she could hear a damnably familiar voice nearby, and espy a mostly recognizable face. Clean shaven, save for the rather thick mustache, square shouldered and standing with a distinct air of nuanced confidence, a black eyepatch over his right eye lent a roguish air to him. A cavalry sabre was belted to his uniformed side, his left hand resting upon it with both fingers on the left side were gone from the knuckles. A pair of faint scars traversed his cheek, jaw and some of his throat before disappearing beneath a cravat.
11:26:23 [WalterElric] “Heaven’s, Africa? Dreadful place. The heat is intolerable. You know, my uncle Walter used to talk about...” the man said, pausing in his speech as his eyes alighted on Elsie’s familiar face. Elsie had been advised that Lieutenant Elric would be present at the gala, undercover in any case. They’d all said it with amused smiles. When she looked upon him, she recognized he really could be Walter’s nephew. No more limp, no more grey hair. The man looked thirty years old, not closer to fifty. Excusing himself, he moved towards Elsie and offered her a bow that truly was every bit as she remembered from the veteran Purgist. “Ms. Buchanan. Delighted to see you,” he said in the usual dry manner, but she could see him suppressing the smile. He turned on his booted heels to offer her his arm to walk with her, if only to say hello before escorting her to her designated assignment.

11:41:49 [Edmond] The movement through the crowd was not particularly hard for Edmond as few chose to impede him. A few months back, he had been guilty of assaulting a young gentleman with too much liquor in his veins and too much pride in his heart. The boy had proclaimed loudly that the 'useless college prat,' couldn't hold his own in a duel were he to hold a cannon in his arms. Since dueling was all but completely out of fashion and frowned upon by the law, Edmond had declined the multiple requests of the youth. Instead of leaving well enough alone and moving away to find easier prey for his jests and jabs, he had made a comment regarding Edmonds inability to protect the 'Swedish whore he consorted with.' The youth had drawn his court-decorated rapier as Edmond had approached, and was promptly pummeled with fists and boots until an entire contingent of flatfoots had been required to pull him away. Luckily, the youth had experienced such embarrassment at the scene and many witnesses had come forth to mention-c-
11:42:20 [Edmond] the provocation, and, thus, Edmond had walked away without a blemish upon his record. Not a blemish, perhaps, but he was held at arms length in higher society meetings, people surprised and intrigued by the savagery exhibited. They were also slightly intimidated. It was uncouth, to say the least, to punch an opponent in a duel of blades. Edmond truly did not care for, had he pulled his blade, he would have killed the lad and that would have not only reflected worse in the eyes of the law, it would have been waste of potential. A young drunkard has the possibility, as time goes on, to grow into something a bit more useful to the world about him. Moving through that crowd and scanning the room, Edmond's eyes eventually settled upon a beautiful young woman. He knew her. Of course he knew her. Who did not know of Lady Elizabeth Buchanan, the tragic widow. She was quite attractive, tis true to be said, but his eyes had landed upon her for an entirely different reason. Perhaps it was the arrogance of male-c-
11:43:11 [Edmond] Chauvinism, but Edmond thought she may be an easy target for his press for funding. Were he to secure a sizable donation from her or, in the best of cases, a patronage, he would never have to attend one of these stuffy events again and flash lying smiles to the faces of the blissfully rich and ignorant. The move was about to be made when another approached from the crowd, speaking with and, apparently, moving away with his current target. That made things difficult, for the moment. The face had been familiar, perhaps, as if Edmond should know it. The fact that he didn't immediately know the name, title, net worth, and background of every person in the room was simply attributed to how focused he had been on his other activities. It seemed that his fingers were slipping from the pulse of the civilized underworld directly to the crotch of the world of the creepy and strange. Steeling himself anyway, Edmond continued to push through the crowd, knowing that this event would be the best opportunity so as to-c-
11:43:58 [Edmond] not tred on propriety and perhaps, insure his later absence from such events. "Lady Buchanan," Edmond said, stepping in front of the two at such a distance that he was no truly impeding any progress forward, but close enough to show his intention to speak and be spoken to. He sketched a quick bow, so far out of fashion in the modern society of London that it would almost be laughable, were not a wry grin creasing his features and showing it for the mock that it was. Perhaps there would be offense, or perhaps they would enjoy the farce as much as he. Edmond could not convince himself to care, at the moment. "And you, good sir, I do not believe I know of you, nor have made your acquaintence." Edmond flashed a wide, grin, teeth reflecting white the multitude of lights around them. "Might I have a word with the two of you about the future of psychological research and the exploration of the human mind, the unlocking of latent potential and, most importantly, the -c-
11:44:35 [Edmond] study of behavioral sciences that we might prevent such tragedies as that horrible Ripper fellow who was cutting his way through Whitechapel?" -fin-

11:56:28 [Elsie] It was the familiar voice that caused her to turn her attention from Edmond for the moment, intractably drawn toward one she’d worked with for some time. Who had shared many an adventure with and had not seen in some time due to her working the Continent for the Society. Having returned she’d been busy on assignment and not in the least had chance or opportunity to meet with old familiar rogues who she was somewhat endeared to. Eyes alighted as Walter approached and she handed off the now empty flute toward a passing waiter before taking the male’s arm in hers. “Walter..” Confusion etched her features for a moment as they came together, his look far different than how she last remembered him and yet it was still him. Truly she should have called him Mr. Elric being they were out in society yet his appearance had caught her off guard. Surely it was a form of glamour that had the male looking far younger than he -
11:56:32 [Elsie] truly was. Regardless, she moved with him arm in arm as they took a turn around the large expanse of space. “I was told you’d be present but this place is such a crush I wasn’t certain our paths would cross.” She kept her gaze ahead, watching at all times and aware of her location, position and those of others. “You’ve changed.” It was not a question but a statement of fact. While her curiosity left her aching to learn more Elsie was not one to push. If warranted he would explain to her this adroit change of looks. “How have you be?” The question asked was more of a social nature. It would be wonderful to discuss work but ideally the social situation was not well suited for there more perverse discussions such as Vampires, Vigilantes, demons and the like. “I’m glad to be back, I must say, on familiar ground. The Continent was wonderful but it was sorely lacking in many areas, including friends.” A coy, sideways glance was -
11:56:42 [Elsie] offered to the man as she’d await his words. Though as their conversation progressed it would seem that not all her question could be answered due to the well-timed interruption of the man she’d just earlier been studying. Perhaps it was that sixth sense of hers which was barely ever wrong which lead to this moment; knowing this stranger, albeit familiar man would at some point approach. Regardless he knew her, but then again most in London Society knew the Widow, who’s husband had so tragically died over a year ago, after two years of marriage. The beauty - known for a heart of giving to charities and such wasn’t a myth. Though in truth if most knew of her true nature society on the whole would look at her quite differently. A hand rose to the soft rise of her chest, nestled against the subtle show of cleavage from the corset-like top. Surprised danced upon her features but were quickly masked behind a more steeled, controlled face. And -
11:56:54 [Elsie] then it came to her as he spoke of his pursuits, without giving name first. “Ah, you must be Mr. Dagenhart. If I’m not wrong, I have heard of your pursuits, read a few of your papers. “ She paused a moment to let that sink in before turning to Walter then back to Edmond. “It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Might I introduce to you Walter Elric, a good friend and colleague of mine for some time.
11:57:10 [Elsie] How may we be of service?"

12:15:20 WalterElric did smile at her expression and the greeting, his maimed hand patting hers on his right arm. He moved with the same assured manner, though now he didn’t limp or ache as much during cold or particularly long days. “Surely spotting a roguish cyclopean gentleman such as myself in this todo wouldn’t have been such a chore,” he scoffed offhandedly as they strolled, his manner to those unfamiliar with him seemingly flat and all too serious. “You have friends in London? I would be tickled to meet them.” But she knew his sense of humour all too well and could feel the smirk in his glance, if not on his lips. No doubt it would earn him a good ribbing. A smile did pull at the corners of his mouth, almost hidden by the thick mustache. “And you’ve not changed one bit, ma’am. Welcome home.”
12:15:22 WalterElric shifted posture once Edmond arrived, bowing and speaking in the good-natured, nauseating eloquence of the usual crowd. Walter, standing with a firm presence and upright manner of a no-nonsense soldier he seemed to be portraying for the evening, gave Edmond a quirked eyebrow but a slight nod. “Nor would you need to, sir,” he scoffed at first, being the abrasive sort to Elsie’s more convenient charms. She spoke for them both, and Walter carried on the persona, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.
12:15:26 [WalterElric] “If I want to know what’s on a man’s mind, have you considered scalping them? Seems the Whitechapel Ripper could use some of that. Only tragedy is, none’s had the chance to try that on the bloody bastard. If you’ll beg pardon, here on business. Those rare antiquities from Cairo won’t be buying themselves,” he said brusquely, downing the glass and giving Elsie a bright smile. “Miss Buchanan, always a pleasure.” The brightness of the expression and delivery was night and day compared to the rather blank, irreverent manner reserved for Edmond. Elsie knew Walter was only doing his part and would frankly love to talk about such things. “Sir.” With that, he was off, looking for the Black Market dealer the Society was concerned about attending the party.

12:38:43 [Edmond] The sheepish smile flashed so elegantly, showing Edmond's realization of his own social misstep. He had approached without invitation and greeted a lady of high society by name without having the decency to give his own. The fact was not lost upon him, and he tried to alleviate the blunder as quickly and efficiently as possible. "Yes, I do apologize for my lack of etiquette," he said with another mockery of a bow, though, this one may have contained just a bit of the true apology behind it. "I am not used to attending these events in such a fashion. You are correct, I am Edmond Dagenhart, junior partner at RAPIER," he spoke the colloquial name of the firm he worked for rather than going through the multitude of syllables that created the acronym. "And it is a pleasure to speak to the two of you tonight..." Politeness and careful management of his emotions stopped Edmond from responding with a rude, caustic retort to the arrogant man. The night had been a long one-c-
12:39:31 [Edmond] already, albeit with a good outcome, and it was not likely to get any shorter any time soon. The last thing he needed was one of these foolish fixtures of fashionable farces to mock and berate with hardly a veil to cover the barbed words. "We do, we do indeed explore the physical properties of the brain, Mr. Elric!" Edmond replied, forcing excitement into his tone. "Best of luck, sir, and it was a pleasure to meet such a cordial and refined gentleman such as yourself," he continued, relieved and disappointed that the man was leaving. There could have been some fun to have been had, perhaps, or, even better, the guy might have actually been interested in scalping people and exploring the brain. Whatever the case, Edmonds true target still existed before him. "Well, I will not approach in a roundabout way, Lady Buchanan," he said, his tone jovial over proper undertones. "We are making great advances each and every day in all fields of psychology, -c-
12:40:07 [Edmond] , but, as a private organization, we receive no government sponsorship or funding," he continued, the leading manner in which he spoke pointing quite directly to where he was headed. "We seek the endoursement and, yes, the monetary backing of those who might have interest in furthering the cause of the science of humanity. Mr. Anders, his partners, and I have all contributed much of our private incomes to the furthering of our cause. What we need, truly, is access to the criminal element, those with psychotic influences who know not what they do. The only way to procure this is to buy out the contracts of other, lesser known firms who simply go through the motions without furthering the cause of science in the least. We are experimenting with shock therapy, surgeries, and even chemical modification such as use of lysergic acid and mescal." REalizing that he was being longwinded and had not actually asked for anything, Edmond paused and allowed Lady Buchanan to absorb and -c-
12:40:58 [Edmond] respond as she would to his hints and the, despite his earlier assurances, roundabout way of approaching the subject. Perhaps it would keep her interest, though, and he was venturing on this limb with that thought in mind. -fin-

12:56:45 Elsie was well familiar with Walter, his antics and his natural bearing. Albeit most of the Society were on display in some means or manner that wasn’t necessarily their true nature or personality. In London being a part of such an Aristocracy was all a farce; a show put on for the masses where etiquette demanded much from those who participated. However both Walter and Elsie and those of the Society knew full well the underbelly of the City, it’s haunts within the Demi-monde that most rational people wouldn’t accept. Regardless the show, as at all times, must go on. “We must talk soon, Walter.” She spoke toward the stoic solider who soon took his leave which in turn left her standing with Mr. Dagenhart. Listening to him speak she could feel the passion behind his belief and after he’d come to the end of his appeal she offered her arm his way for him to take. “Walk with me, will you Mr. Dagenhart so we might discuss this further.” It wasn’t a yes but it wasn’t a no. If truth be told Elsie wanting to know more -
12:56:51 [Elsie about this society and what it’s focus was on the whole. While not a secret society there could be some common goals among the two.