Jidai Geki Posted January 22, 2010 Share Posted January 22, 2010 (edited) This is an excerpt from a rewrite of something else I'm doing. I've basically decided to introduce two new characters, and this is their first scene (well, technically only one of them). I'm curious to see how people find them, or, in this instance, Locke. Comments and critique appreciated. -------------------- 2: Concerning Cooper and Locke Mr. Rathbone stepped down from his fly, his nose wrinkling with distaste at the poor state of repair of the dirty, shattered cobbles of the Old Quarter. His manner and bearing, coupled with the unease of and contempt for his surroundings, suggested that he was not accustomed to the filth and squalor of Three Pines' less reputable areas. Mr. Rathbone was, indeed, not clad in clothes to which the various denizens of the Old Quarter would be accustomed: he wore a well-restored Beforetime suit, the jacket and trousers a charcoal grey, and the waistcoat an understated cream. The gold chain of his pocket watch dangled, not in a manner that could be considered to be ostentatious, but in such a way that it was easily visible even beneath the scuffed black evening cloak that hung to his waist. Two shiny black shoes jutted from the bottom of his trousers, incongruous against the congealed filth of the street, and the patches where they had been repaired barely noticeable. The slender, narrow-faced man rounded off his relatively fastidious appearance with a finely trimmed moustache and goatee, ruined only marginally by the specks of grey which peppered it. His oiled black hair was obscured beneath the slightly battered top hat perched on his head. Mr. Rathbone was, in short, somebody who would, under ordinary circumstances, have been robbed and beaten to within in an inch of his life seconds after setting shiny foot in the Old Quarter. It was fortunate in the extreme, then, that he had the foresight, intelligence, and lack of faith in his fellow man to bring four large, hulking fellows along. The four brutes were dressed with similarly shabby pretensions towards haute couture, and all carried well-maintained shotguns or hunting rifles. Most of the Old Quarter's inhabitants would only have seen a real gun once or twice in their lives, but they knew well enough what they could do to a man. The cutpurses and muggers would leave well enough alone tonight. What the Old Quarter lacked in style and cleanliness, it also lacked in basic street amenities. The gas lamps that adorned every street corner in the Merchant's Quarter were present here, but had long been smashed or looted for their metal, and the battered, squalid street was smothered with inky blackness. This came as a source of simultaneous relief and dismay to the skittish Mr. Rathbone- relief for what wasn't seen, dismay for what else wasn't seen- and he gestured for his guards to light their portable gas lanterns. Mr. Rathbone gave a start as the pools of light spilled over the cobbled street and leapt quickly up the fashionably clad legs of a man standing stock-still in the street. The lantern light crawled smoothly from the man's expensive (and rare) hand-made shoes and tailored black linen trousers to a long black waterproofed travelling cloak, a glossy, slender black cane with a polished silver knob, dark leather gloves, and a handsome, urbane face adorned with an impeccably waxed brown moustache. On his head he wore a bowler hat as black and pristine as the rest of his garb. The quality of the man's attire was made all the more apparent next to Mr. Rathbone's own garb- some of the finest clothing available in the Mire, to be sure, but nothing next to the fine silks,velvets and linens the larger settlements' social elite draped themselves with. It made Mr. Rathbone feel quite the street urchin, and he didn't particularly care for it. He was, after all hiring the services of this man- not the other way around. Mr. Rathbone composed himself, gave a halfhearted smile, and extended his hand. ”œGood evening, Mr”¦ Cooper, I presume?” Edited September 7, 2011 by Guest http://www.themire.co.uk-- being a veracious and lurid account of the goings-on in the savage Mire and the sootblown alleys of Portstown's Rookery! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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