The She Wolf

❛ Look at you lot. You’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. ❜ Simone Baptiste Age 26 Thief Strategist

[theinnocentflowwer]

with a little bit of luck

[simone--baptiste]

theinnocentflowwer‌:

Sybille couldn’t help but feel proud of how far Simone had come. She looked like a bored young woman of society going to a ball that didn’t interest her. Not a street rat shoved into a pretty dress. Even her smile was perfect, even if her voice here between them had the twang of the gutters. She knew Simone would iron it out “The idea is that if we can’t breathe we will be more likely to swoon into the arms of a dashing gentleman,” Sybille mused, making sure the ribbon of her fan was looped tightly around her wrist. “It does provide a convenient excuse if you need to get out of a conversation in a hurry.” Simone was good at hiding her anxiety, but Sybille could feel it radiating off her still. She didn’t let on, just nodded back at Simone before knocking on the carriage door.

The driver opened the door and helped them both down onto the pavement. There was a brief pause while they smoothed down their skirts, and then the party set upon them. Glistening ladies and posturing men watched them as they entered. The largest room of the house had been turned into a ballroom, with a small ensemble in one corner. Dancing was something she had yet to teach Simone. How to present herself and to properly socialise with the nobility was easy to explain the importance of. Explaining why Simone should spend time learning the waltz was more difficult to impart.

But so far they had survived the first people that had approached them, none had seen through Simone. Men who had asked for a dance had easily been turned away by mention of a healing ankle. “How are you finding it so far?” Sybille asked Simone when they finally had a moment to themselves. “Enjoy seeing how the other half live?” Sybille knew that this soirée was nothing compared to the parties the nobility threw, but the middle class could try their best to imitate.

As she followed Sybille out of the carriage, she couldn't help but gawk at the display. It was beautiful, the type of place she would have loved to steal from on a normal day. In fact, parties seemed to be the perfect distractions necessary to get to bedrooms without being noticed. She berated herself for not attempting it sooner. By the time they reached the ballroom, she pulled her composure back to her, even if her eyes darted around every inch of the room.

She stepped into the shoes of civilized woman with practiced ease, any sign of her true origins gone from her face as she was introduced to all of the people curious about the new person among their crowd. The women were silly and shallow and the men were even worse, some not even attempting to hide that they were ogling her body. As she laughed at every stupid joke and politely turned away every boy's offer to dance, Simone mulled over how she would have dealt with these people before she met Sybille. She had to be proud of herself for not murdering them at least.

Taking a deep breath the minute they had a moment to do so, Simone gave Sybille a weary smile. "I have to admit I'm still tempted to take every jewel off of their fingers," she murmured quietly, "but it is nice." Despite it all, she could see how people would fall in love with it all. It was a day to enjoy the finer things they have come to acquire and make their neighbors jealous with it. She gathered that half of the Court of Miracles would do the same if they had the means to. "How long do these parties usually go on for?"

[chasseuseartisane-blog]

Having the favour of both the King and Queen meant that she had the favour of most of the court. Every woman wanted to dress as elegantly as the Queen, and every man figured that if she was good enough for the King, she was good enough for them too. But there were customers that she’d known since she was a little girl, sewing next to her maman, and she would always find a way to make time for them still. Even if that meant she was still in the city even after the sun fell. Having delivered the last parcel of clothes, she took a more circuitous route so she wouldn’t be cutting through the Court of Miracles. Not out of fear of the people that lived there, but fear of who would see her. She didn’t want to be arrested again. 

However, a shout had her freezing in place. She looked around, torn when she heard another shout, the sounds of an argument echoing across the cobblestones. 

Marie didn’t want trouble, she’d been avoiding anything even remotely connected to trouble for the past month, but there was a distinctively female voice caught amongst the others, and she remembered the night where she’d been the sole woman standing against men who had wanted to hurt her. Even as capable as she was, she’d lost. 

She followed the sound, drawing out her dagger from her pocket, and called out when she saw the shadowy figures. “Is there a problem here?” 

@simone–baptiste

[simone--baptiste]

They cornered Simone in the alley, which wasn't unexpected or problematic to her grand plan. When speaking with informants, they tended to expect more than what they get, whether it be more money or more skin. She had dealt with all types since she was thirteen and she was not the naive child she once was. Still, there were three of them and while she wasn't immediately worried, it did cause her hand to recoil to where she could feel the comforting steel of her knife.

"You promised us double," one of them growled at her, using his height in order to intimidate her. She lifted her chin, looking him square in the eye. She made sure to angle herself so that she could still see the other two out of the corner of her eye.

"I promise nothing. I gave you what that information was worth." One stepped a little too close to her and she pulled out her knife toward him. At the same time, the other grabbed her hair. She yelped at the sudden pain and stabbed the space behind her, more than a little pleased when she hears the man curse. Blood drips down the knife when she points it back to the other two, but they don't back down.

Simone thinks she is imagining when she hears Marie's voice from the shadows and she still can't quite believe it when she sees her friend pulling out her own knife toward one of the men. Her eyes are glued to Marie, almost distracting her from the situation at hand. Her gaze returned to the men who looked a lot less sure of themselves now that there were two of them. "Is there a problem?" she asked. The man she previously stabbed was the first to scamper away and his friends slowly followed suit, though not before they spat at her feet. Simone rolled her eyes at them, debating on whether she should steal the money she had just given them. Her mind was already figuring out how she would do it when she remembered that she wasn't alone.

[theinnocentflowwer]

with a little bit of luck

@simone–baptiste

Tonight was Simone’s first test. Sybille could barely contain her excitement, tapping her fan to her upturned lips. The carriage bumped its way along the streets of Paris. Across from her, Simone sat very proper like. Her back was straight, chest wrangled into stays, dressed up and perfumed like a doll. Her face wasn’t right yet; Simone was unafraid to meet anyone’s eye and stare them down, but Sybille knew she could hide it.

“Are you ready?” Sybille asked, reaching forward to touch Simone’s knee. There was little time for them to turn around. The carriage slowed to a stop, and Sybille knew that they had arrived. Outside the carriage was the house of Monsieur Labelle, and the night where they would introduce Simone as Sybille’s country cousin. Already Sybille could hear the sounds of the party outside, voices lifting down onto the courtyard, musician’s songs filtering through the windows. Sybille cast Simone a reassuring smile, patting her leg. 

[simone--baptiste]

Simone stared out the window of Sybille's carriage, noting every twist and turn they made in case she had to make a quick getaway. While she wasn't planning on doing so, it never hurt to be too careful, particularly in a situation she was still very new to. She distracted herself from her anxiety by focusing on what she did know: the intricacies of her own con. Monsieur Labelle was a well known man, and she heard rumors of the riches he possessed behind locked doors. Not to mention certain reports have linked him with the Cardinal. Over all, the opportunity was too great to not try something.

She was jolted out of her thoughts as Sybille placed a comforting hand on her knee. Her eyes met her mentor's with a small, practiced smile on her face. "I'll be fine. Though I hope this stupid party doesn't last too long. I don't know how women breathe with this." She gestured to the corset that put her breasts on display but did little else to benefit her. As they stopped, she felt her heart pound against her chest. You belong here. With a deep breath, she placed herself into the practiced shoes of any other noblewoman. Smoothing out her skirt, she gave Sybille a short nod. This was it.

[spanishbastardxrp]

Continued Frustrations

[simone--baptiste]

spanishbastardxrp‌:

Her snide comment was both expected and received with a smirk. He took another bite out of his apple to hide it and turned to face her. “What could I be searching for?” He questioned aloud, turning back to watch the people mulling about. The patrons had moved from table to table, eying the produce and quilts, finding jewelry amongst massive heaps of shells, bottles filled with rocks from “foreign lands”. It was all a gimmick for these French people to believe that they were cultured.

“Have you seen Fern recently? I haven’t seen him in a day or two, which isn’t necessarily out of ordinary.” He said this so nonchalantly, finding common ground with the woman next to him. He had found that after they disposed of his spy’s body she had grown to trust him more. If only she knew how difficult that she’d made his life. There was a small bead of resentment there but it would soon be squashed. Especially knowing that Sebastian was out there still fighting the good fight. 

“We’re supposed to go stake out tonight but I haven’t heard if he decided to spy on Marie instead.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, a habit she knew she would never fully overcome when it came to his roundabout answers. It was just another annoyance that she had to deal with. "Plenty of things," she muttered as her eyes followed his toward the crowd. "More food to buy, purses to steal, a new woman to bed." The last one might be a little unnecessary, but she just wanted to see what his reaction might be.

"I've seen him," she said simply. Her head has mostly been focused on thier cause recently, but she still made a point to keep track of her wayward brother. After he disappeared for two weeks, she had a few trusted spies keep an eye on him even when she couldn't personal see him. She figured that he knew they were there, but he hadn't called her out on it yet.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he's doing just that," she murmured bitterly. As if him peeking in on her friend would actually earn her forgiveness. As far as Simone knew, it was a waste of his time. "What are you two staking out exactly?"

[spanishbastardxrp]

Continued Frustrations

@simone–baptiste

It would seem that the Wolf of France would continue to give him headaches in the coming weeks. He had spent weeks gathering intel, learning about Antoine, struggling to rekindle his spy network after the beating that it took before. Two died spies in the same week and he had aided both of their deaths. He had to lie his way out of two webs to save himself from his own men but it had cost him their trust. 

Now, he had to find new men to recruit. New men to bring under his wing to spy on the Red Guard and the castle halls. He already had two servicemen from the Castle but his informant for Herbert had fallen through. He knew too much about the Bande to get too close to Herbert, lest he betrays his new friends. For now, he stood against a building to the east of the main square, leaning against the corner with an apple in his hand. His eyes worked over each person that passed by. He was looking for weak people, fresh off the boat and looking for a purpose. They had to have been dulled by the journey and hungry for money and driven by a need to find rest after such a long journey.

When he felt a familiar presence near him, he smirked. “How nice of you to join me, Baptiste.” His Spanish accent was thick, so thick that some Frenchmen couldn’t understand his sometimes broken French but Simone would have understood his venom.

[simone--baptiste]

The threat, as far as everyone else knew, was finally over. Antoine was gone and several of the members who defected to his cause have attempted to return to her side. She watched them all with narrowed eyes and overall distrust, even while several other members tried to insist that they needed the numbers. While she couldn't deny they would last longer with more help, she didn't sit well with the idea of known traitors being around her. Still, at least the rumors of her most recent kill was keeping the potential spies from getting too close to her.

She walked through the bustling streets of the main square to meet up with her informants to ensure that she stayed on top of what everyone was saying. Of course, there were various speculations that she was responsible, but as far as she has heard, no one has concrete evidence. Even though it's been more than a month since the fateful day, and the news has died out since then, she still wants to make sure.

As she finished with one of the spies she had within the Red Guard, she noticed a very familiar face in the shadows of a building. She picked a couple pockets on her way to him, raising an eyebrow as she settled beside him. "I assume you're in the area for more than just apples," she responded to him with a similar smirk. While she still had reservations toward the Spaniard, she couldn't deny that she warmed to his presence since he helped her.

[simone--baptiste]

Previously on Simone Baptiste...

Ya girl killed a spy, cementing her first murder. She doesn’t feel guilty per se and that is what is so frightening to her. 

Baltasar and Sybille both helped her hide the evidence from said murder which earned them both major trust points in her book.

She still has the letters proving the illegitimacy of the king and she is very wary of who finds out. The last thing she needs is for her main piece of leverage to slip from her fingers.

Suspected that the Red Guard had done something to Fernand, but was never able to prove it. Because of this her hatred for them is higher than even that of the musketeers.

Marie is still ignoring her, which hurts her a lot but she is trying to ignore her own pain on the matter by working hard in her own cause. 

With the main threat of the highwaymen gone, many members that had left to join them have returned--or at least attempted. Simone is wary of their loyalties and is even more skeptical of the remaining members of La Bande Noire. 

[simone--baptiste]

fernandbaptiste:

He chuckled a little, “Maybe I’ll have to go find a bar where they’re all sleepy drunks first.” But that wasn’t right. It wouldn’t be really appropriate for him to sneak her out of the house, a young girl like her hanging around Parisian bars after dark. Fernand blinked, shaking his head. He didn’t care about going out with Simone, why did he think that? He thought it was stupid how he could go out and enjoy himself but Simone was expected to stay at home. 

Then he was confused when he got irritated in her treatment to the man who had been ogling her. She shouldn’t anger him, why couldn’t she just ignore it and stop causing a fuss? He spoke low, “Do you have to be so… forward about that? I can just deal with it.” 

Henri came back and they made their order, and Fernand went back to the show. “Shows how stupid some people are. We’re the only real show out there, but some people wouldn’t be convinced no matter what we do.” Fernand didn’t mind too much. Perhaps when he was older he might become a private practitioner like some others had done. “You ever think about what we’ll do afterwards? It’s all good for now, but I can’t imagine we’ll do this forever. Honestly, we have enough to retire now.” 

"You find a bar with sleepy drunks and then maybe I'll consider it," she said with a little smile. Drinking wasn't usually how she liked to spend her time, mostly because when she drank too much alcohol, her control of her powers diminish greatly and her mind becomes more about other people's thoughts than her own. Still, it was nice to be out with Fernand, even in a less than ideal place. And she could practice her powers with people who would be too drunk to notice anything.

She raised an eyebrow at his inquiry, confused as to why he was so bothered. Usually he laughed at things like this. "What? I was being nice. If you could hear what he was thinking, you wouldn't have been quite at kind as I was." She didn't know why it rubbed her the wrong way when he said that he could deal with it. She knew that he could, but she didn't want her brother fighting her battles for her.

She smiled at him and tried to shrug off his strangeness. "I can understand where people are skeptical. They like believing that their world makes sense and people like us don't make much sense." She hummed thoughtfully at the thoughts of the future and shrugged. "I don't know. I think I'd be bored of telling people what they want to hear about their dead parents after a while. I think I'd be a good lawyer, if they let me into school. If not, a detective would be fun." Simone knew she could never retire. She enjoyed being busy.

[captainemile]

medium!au: running into ghosts

[simone--baptiste]

captainemile:

Émile clenched his jaw as Simone tore through his excuses. She was right; he could have stayed with them without being a public performer, only dragged out for VIPs and private functions. But that would have implied staying with François and… He shuddered, casting a look to Simone from the corner of his eye. He was relieved to know that nothing had happened, but the fact that she had noticed was worrisome on its own.

For a few hard seconds Émile thought of the best way to explain why he had left, what he knew about François, though it wasn’t much. He swallowed hard, and held out his hand to her. “It’ll be easier to show you, than tell you.” He closed his eyes, and thought back.

He remembered back to when he was about seven. They were staying in a motel somewhere, Émile pushed back into the corner of the bed against the wall, blankets clutched tight under his hands as he looked to the opposite corner, terrified. A slug-like ghoul writhed there, each spasm sending it closer and closer to the bed. He would have screamed, but unannounced François came bursting through the door. He didn’t see where Émile was looking, but instead looked straight at the corner where the slug-creature lay.

Émile remembered feeling so relieved when François let him sleep in his bed that he didn’t think about how François knew to come into the room, to save him.

Émile pulled back to the present, flickered open his eyes. “There are other memories, of François… sensing where I saw a ghost. It’s not like you. You have to figure out what I’m seeing and where first. François didn’t. And it was always… stronger when we were close.” He briefly thought back to a half-memory of François walking a distance ahead of Émile, and walking straight through an ominous, demanding war ghost that still haunted Émile to this day.

Eyes open once more, he waited for Simone to ask her questions. There would always be questions.

Simone eyed his outstretched hand warily, but took it nevertheless. It was rare for someone to genuinely let her into their mind. Her father used to let her when she was younger so she could quiet her mind and Fernand would do it every so often when he wanted to share a story but was too lazy to. Emile didn't do it as much, if at all. His memories were usually filled with horrifying images of dead people and he did like to share that any more than she liked seeing it.

Closing her eyes, she relived his memory. She watched as Papa burst through the door and looked right at the creature. And she suddenly felt her heart begin to race. Her eyes jumped open before his did, frantically looking around to make sure he wasn't around. The mixed feeling of dread and excitement seeped into her stomach.

"But what does that even mean? You think he can mimic your powers? But if he could mimic yours that means he can do the same with ours? And if he could why not use Fernand's power to make you stay or make anyone do what he wants them to?" But if he could... if Emile was right... He could read /her/ mind. He would know her suspicions about him. What would he do when he found out that she uncovered his secret? She shook her head. "No, it can't be. It doesn't explain why I can't read his mind."

Unless... She gripped Emile's hand a vague memory in the back of her mind. A whisper. "I remember something. After a really loud show I was having trouble quieting everything and I focused on him to help, but I think I pushed a little too hard." She leaned in closer to him. "I think I heard a whisper. From /him./ From /his mind/. But..." She paused, trying to remember what happened after. It was all a bit fuzzy. Maybe she didn't hear his thoughts. Maybe it was a dream she was mistaking for reality.

[simone--baptiste]

chasseuseartisane:

“I am not a pirate. I’d have no idea whether you held ransoms or not. I just wanted to be clear that I don’t have anything.” Marie’s words weren’t mean, she was simply pointing out the fact that she had no idea what to expect. It wasn’t exactly every day that she joined a pirate ship to try find her kidnapped brother. That had only happened a total of one time. This time. 

Marie wished she’d been the one taken, instead of Marian. His temper would have made it difficult for him, yes, but then she wouldn’t have to worry that she was making mistakes every time she turned around. This was another of those moments. Was this, this ship, the pirates, was any of it going to help? Or was it just going to get her killed before she found Marian? 

It was a relief to hear that she’d have a room to herself, even if it was only a temporary solution. If the captain, Simone’s brother, was found before Marian, Marie would have to figure something else out. “Thank you. If you ever want that room yourself, I suppose I can sleep in the navigation room.” She didn’t want to  get in the way. 

"Ransoms are not nearly as profitable as one may believe. At least not for an entire ship. And besides it would only be worth it if you were nobility." Even if this was Marie's first time being on a pirate ship--or even meeting a pirate--it was common reason (in Simone's mind) for ransoms to be a bad idea. With the size of their fleet, it would be much easier to attack the ships that they wanted and keep the treasures they had than keep one person hostage and be forced to wait until the money might come in.

"I don't want the room," she said, not really meaning the hard edge in her voice. It was her father's room, a reminder of the man that was torn from her. And now it was Fernand's, the last person she could call family who was also taken from her. There were too many things there that reminded her of them that wouldn't allow her any good sleep.

"And besides, if we find Fernand before we find your brother, you can take my other room. It's not much--just a bed and a trunk for my clothes--but it is private." It was the bunk she shared with her brothers when they were children.

[captainemile]

medium!au: running into ghosts

[simone--baptiste]

captainemile:

Émile reeled from the simple way Simone admitted to getting him his current job. He was a little offended at her teasing, a little self-conscious about his last season suit jacket sourced from a tailor selling the upper class’ out of style clothes. He fiddled with the cuff that was fraying a little. “I’m not doing that badly for myself,” he insisted. “Sure I’m not rolling on the profits of a very successful road show that is simply the talk of France-” he nudged her arm as they walked toward the park bench. “-but I’m not doing too badly.”

The little green they ended in only had a few ghosts lingering, and they were the sort that minded their own business. The one closest to the bench was that of a little boy selling matches. Émile didn’t look close enough to note any other details besides the frosty sheen of ice on his skin, aware of his company.

At her question Émile could help but think back to the night that ended it all, the séance table, François opposite him on the table. He shook his head slowly, frowning at her. “I didn’t make excuses… I was never very good on the stage, and now I’m doing my best to actually make a difference…”

“Matches? Matchbox for 2 centimes,” cried the ghost behind him. Émile swallowed down his resolve, and focused on Simone.

Émile looked at Simone. Perhaps her endorsement of him to the Vidals was less an act of charity, and more an excuse to bring him to Paris. He had noticed that they were going to be performing nearby when the Vidals had hired him. How long had she been waiting for him, to speak to him? “Why do you want to know?” he asked, worry suddenly tinging his words. “What happened?”

His self-conscious thoughts seeped through her wall to keep out his mind and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. As if she ever cared about expensive clothing. She was more concerned that he was making enough money to feed himself properly than whatever rags he decided to wear. "That's good. You don't look starved so that's always a good sign." She smiled softly at him. It was good knowing that he was doing well for himself, after everything that had happened.

With the area deserted enough, Simone risked letting her barriers down a little, pleased that Emile's mind also seemed less hectic. She peeked into his thoughts, always intruiged by the way she could hear dead people's voices through him. It came with its downsides as well, but for the most part, it was something new for her to dissect and figure out.

She pulled out of his mind immediately once he started to recall the day that he left them, not wanting to intrude too deeply into his personal thoughts. Although she made a living off of digging into people's deepest feelings and memories, she didn't like doing the same with her loved ones. It was harder to look at people the same way when you knew so much about them without their permission.

"Yeah I know that you were a horrible performer, but why did you leave us. You could have stayed and not performed." Her tone wasn't accusitory, but more matter-of-fact. She didn't blame him for leaving; she just wanted to know why.

His worry clear in his voice made her tilt her head. "Nothing happened. I'm just... curious." She paused and glanced around. She leaned closer to him, her voice quiet. "I've been wondering why I can't hear Papa's thoughts and how he can resist Fernand's commands sometimes. Something doesn't seem right with him and the more I ask him about it, the more irritated he becomes." Her head whipped around, making sure that he wasn't lurking around somewhere. She knew that he wasn't (she had left him drunk at a tavern) but she still couldn't be too careful. Turning back to Emile, she continued, "I know he's hiding something and I was hoping you might know what that was."

[theinnocentflowwer]

noir!au: finding a killer | simone & sybille

[simone--baptiste]

theinnocentflowwer:

Sybille watched with something close to admiration as Simone attempted to piece together the jigsaw that was her husband’s murder. Unfortunately for her, she was missing the corners. "Perhaps he wanted to reason with the attacker, to keep the situation from escalating. Perhaps he thought raising alarm would definitely get him killed, as well as putting me in danger.”  Sybille shrugged, sipped her coffee. It was nearly empty. “My explanations are too full of ‘perhaps’ for you, I think.”

“I am not trying to kill myself, Simone,” Sybille pointed out, unable to hide the twist of a smile on her lips. “This is not some convoluted Dr. Jeckel and Mr. Hyde tale.” She was bemused by the thought, leaning back into the armchair once more.

The question about the maid had Sybille’s attention, though she tried to hide the sharpness of her attention with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Marlene Daniel… She was here, just heading off home I believe. Good girl, she left after the murder. Can’t blame her. I can give you her details if you want?”

Her answers did have too many perhaps. The entire case had too many perhaps. But it only made Simone more intruiged, the thrill of solving something that even the police couldn't figure out. Still, she had to come up with more abstract evidence to build her case. If Sybille was as innocent as she claimed, then Simone would have to prove it. And if she was guilty, she would have no problem proving that as well.

"I don't think you are the type of woman to commit suicide," she noted as she finally took a sip of the coffee. "Besides, I can't assume that the same person who killed your husband is also trying to kill you as well." True they are most likely related, but Simone sensed that if Sybille was on the intial death list of the murderer, she would have been killed on the same night as her husband.

Marlene Daniel. Simone hid her smile. Finally someone who would be able to give her a decent timeline. If the woman could confirm Sybille's account of events, maybe that nagging feeling in the back of Simone's mind would go away. "Yes please. I'd like to talk to her. Perhaps she noticed something that you did not in your fear and grief."

[simone--baptiste]

Fernand: People born in 2016 will probably be alive to see the year 3000 life is fucking wilddddd

Gaspard: Ok I'm bad at math but I'm pretty sure that's wrong.

Fernand: No it's not. They'd be like 84 years old that's achievable in this day and age.

Gaspard: Oh yeah. You're right. My bad.

Simone: NO THAT'S NOT RIGHT. THEY WOULD BE ABOUT 984 YEARS OLD HAVE YOU EVER PICKED UP A BOOK AND STUDIED ONCE IN YOUR LIFE.

[captainemile]

medium!au: running into ghosts

[simone--baptiste]

captainemile:

Émile could only stop and look at Simone for a moment, blown away by how much she had grown and how much she looked the same. She was taller, grown and becoming a woman, a thought he knew for sure would annoy her. Remembering with a start just what it was that was giving Simone a headache, he immediately apologised in his thoughts, and offered the explanation of it as a downright observation and that he had absolutely no interest in her development.

This was one of the reasons why she always used to complain he gave her headaches.

Clearing his throat, resolving to talk instead of think, Émile moved forward to help steady her by her arm before remembering she didn’t like touching. Open hand clenching into a fist and then finding its home by his side, he gave her a congenial, if strained smile. “I have an appointment,” he said, though he doubted that would matter to her.

Trailing off, he looked behind him to see whether the ghost from before had followed. He couldn’t quite get the  image out of his head, the way its foaming, bubbling mouth had tried to speak to him… Jolting back to facing Simone, he gave another internal apology, twisting a signet ring on his left hand. That was the other reason. He sighed, never being able to really deny Simone much. “I have an hour, a little less.”

As she finally managed to get his thoughts from tormenting her brain, she heard him reminise about how much she had grown, unable to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "It's fine," she replied to his apology. "Just a little out of practice with your thoughts." She raised an eyebrow at his later thoughts and shook her head. "You better not be."

She took a deep breath as she gathered her wits back to her. As much as she may have missed Emile, she definitely didn't miss this. "I know. I was the one that told them about you." Finally feeling back to her normal self, she straightened and got a good look at him. He looked very different from the boy that she used to know. "I figured that you would need the money considering you are trying to do honest work now," she teased.

His thoughts drifted to another dead man and she shuddered, remembering the vivid nightmares his thoughts used to give her. She may not be the same little girl as she used to be, but she was still human. "That's fine. I only need an hour." She gestured for him to follow her toward a more secluded place that could hopefully get both of them a little peace. "I want to know why you left. The real reason and not all of the excuses you’ve been coming up with."

[simone--baptiste]

fernandbaptiste:

“Just the skeptic in the third row. And he had a few ideas, mainly to keep pushing the audience. Leave them wondering what’s going to happen next.” He leaned on the table, waving over Henri to get some tea for himself. “We can’t get complacent, and all that.” There had been something else, something that had seemed important. He smiled as Henri brought him a cup, looking back to Simone. 

“He’s pretty nice, don’t you think?” He liked teasing his sister, within reason anyway. “Maybe I’ll take you out sometime. You should get to meet more people our age.” He knew she wasn’t as excited as he was to go out on the town, to meet people and stay out late. “Nothing crazy, but you never know… You might like it.” 

He looked over the menu briefly, already knowing what he would get. “I’m thinking the coq au vin tonight, the show made me really hungry.” He gently kicked her foot under the table. “We could have the tarte tatin for dessert? Some ice cream on top?” He saw an older man look at Simone for an instant, and Fernand suddenly felt on edge. Why was he feeling defensive? “How do you think the show went?”

She smirked at him and shook her head. "As if we could ever be complacent." Maybe she was imagining that something was wrong. Fernand seemed normal and she didn't want to cheat and search through his head like she normally would. She trusted Fernand and that meant no mind reading.

"Who he? Henri? He's alright." She shrugged. He was still a boy and she had other things to worry about other than boys. She snorted at his suggestion and shook her head. "Take me out? You realize that bars for me usually consist of drunk people thinking too loud and at least half of the room thinking about sex right?" She took a sip of her tea. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'm fine on my own."

"I'm not that hungry myself. I think I'll just have a croque monsieur." She smiled at his suggestion for desert and was about to respond when she noticed the sudden expression change on his face. She turned to where he was looking and noticed a man who's thoughts were about as inappropriate as she figured they would me. When their eyes met, she flipped him off and said, "Go home to your wife, branleur." She turned back to her brother and took a moment to remember what he had asked her. "Fine I think. Most of the crowd still buys what we're doing."

[theinnocentflowwer]

noir!au: finding a killer | simone & sybille

[simone--baptiste]

theinnocentflowwer:

If Sybille had brought her cup of coffee to her lips by the time Sybille acused her of having a motive she would have been sure to ungracefully spit it out. As it was she let out a hearty bark of laughter, looking at Simone with pure amusement. "I would hardly… murder someone for cheating on me, Simone,” she said with a smile, taking a sip of her coffee now that she was calmer. Maybe there was something about the look that spoke of Sybille’s… interest, though it left soon after. “Do not base my hypothetical motives on what men would do; they do a great number of things without any sort of reason at all. If I wanted to get more friends out of killing my husband it was certainly the wrong way to go about it. The only person I have close to a friend is a private detective I hired who worries I am guilty.” She smiled at Simone again, teasing.

She listened as Simone explained the faults in her story, the time differences that didn’t add up. She took in the facts easily, her face a mask as she picked up her coffee and took another sip. “I will tell you what you need to know,” she stated, giving Simone another of her smiles so it didn’t seem testing. “I did not think to look at the time in my room, so I apologise I cannot tell you how long it was. I suppose Raoul and the killer could have walked around the study, the killer blocking the exit? -A theory, mind you.”

“My husband’s death is still a mystery, I know, and as a detective it must irk you that it is unsolved.” Sybille set down her cup of coffee on it’s saucer, and then set that down onto the table. She leaned in towards Simone. “I wish you would focus more on the pressing issue of who is trying to kill me.”

Simone shrugged at her, not finding it as amusing as she did. After all, Simone had considered doing just that to one of her first boyfriends. Of course, it might not be the sane reaction, but that didn't mean that Sybille wasn't any more sane than she was. "In my experience, women do just as many crazy things. Except they're better at keeping their reasons hidden." She scowled at her a little. She wasn't /worried/. She was doing her job and letting her client know how absolutely guilty she looked. And besides, Simone didn't have friends either.

Simone had to admit that Sybille could be right. But there weren't many signs of a struggle in the study and she remembered reading that the man was burly. Why not fight his attacker the minute he came in through the balcony--if he came through the balcony? "Without your husband causing any alarm?" There were so many questions, and it seemed like any answer Sybille gave her only brought up more questions. It was infuriating for her to have the pieces to the puzzle laid out in front of her, yet none of them were fitting properly.

"Solving the murder involves finding out who is trying to kill you. I'm letting you know that at the present, all of the evidence points to you." Maybe that was the point. If one of Emile's officers were dirty, they could have been paid off to fabricate evidence to prove Sybille's guilt. But the autopsy... unless the coroner was paid off as well. Or maybe Occam's razor had some merit in this case and the simplest solution was the one that was right. "The maid that found you and alerted the police? Was she working when your husband was killed?"

[theinnocentflowwer]

noir!au: finding a killer | simone & sybille

[simone--baptiste]

theinnocentflowwer:

“I had friends,” she mentioned briefly, a slight shrug to her shoulders. She had never been close to any of them, either wives of her husband’s friends or other society women with much to talk about that meant very little. “I don’t think I expressed grief to their liking. Yes, they ask me how I’ve been when we pass on the street, but if I say I am doing fine because it is a good day out they look at me queerly. My husband’s friends never liked me; that’s why I hired you.”

She couldn’t help the surprise at what was Simone’s first question. Whether she and her husband were close was not a question she was expecting. “No,” she answered truthfully, setting down her cup as she began what she knew would be a long explanation. “We weren’t a love-match; Raoul’s business and my father’s were complementary and I was the alliance between them. We were French, of course, each of us had our little affairs…” Of course, Raoul was allowed to invite his friend’s wives to his study and close the door behind them, but to discover his wife in bed with the neighbour’s wife was close to treason. She thumbed the spine of the book she had set on her lap. She could still remember the sound of Raoul throwing books off the walls of her lounge as she screamed and banged against the locked bedroom door…

“I don’t miss him,” she stated, looking up from the book into Simone’s eyes. “What does that make me? Heartless? Guilty?" 

She nodded briefly at the mention of her grief. She was met with much the same reaction when she had diligently went to work after his death, but she had always been perceived as odd. But whereas she went to work to try to push through the sadness, Sybille didn't seem to possess that--or she was very good at hiding it.

Simone watched her face as she seemed to stare blankly at the book. Sybille was clearly remembering something that had to do with an affair. Was that what happened? She caught her husband cheating and decided to make him pay? Or had he caught her cheating on him? When her eyes finally left the book, Simone was disappointed to not find any hint of which way it might have been. "It would give you motive," she stated. "A woman with few if any friends married to a man she didn't love whom was cheating on her. I've seen men do more with less of a reason."

She adjusted herself in her chair. "Even with your change to your story, it still doesn't quite add up. For him to bleed out, it would be at least thirty minutes. Add another 5 to cut his tongue. That is at least thirty five minutes and you were waiting in your room for that long? Not to mention that his body was facing the opposite direction of the balcony meaning that the person who had killed him had to have faced the main door to his study. His killer had to have broken into the house--or already be here." But most importantly, why hire her if Sybille was guilty to begin with? There was a piece of the puzzle that was missing. Simone placed her cup down and leaned toward her client, her elbows resting on her knees. "I'm not saying you did it, madame. I'm saying that there is something you're failing to tell me about this case."

[simone--baptiste]

chasseuseartisane:

Without the letter, Marie’s hands twisted together. She had never done well at being still, and fidgeting had become a habit of hers when nervous or upset. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking questions as Simone read it, but knowing Simone hadn’t attacked it did help. It was one less person that could have taken her brother. The next comment Simone spoke just confirmed her idea that someone had taken him. No storms. “I knew it.” 

Marie wasn’t bothered that Simone seemed a little offended that Marie had mentioned money. “You are a pirate. It isn’t outside the realm of possibility that you had your own agenda.” The admission for why Simone was helping her had Marie’s expression softening. 

She took the letter back, folding it and tucking it away again. “There’s nothing worse, is there? I hope you find him. Has he been missing long?” She hadn’t expected to find anything in common with Simone, but this was something she could understand. The loss of family, the fear that something had happened - it ate away at her. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about it.” The reluctance had been obvious enough. 

“Uh… where are my quarters going to be?” The hesitation and nerves were on her face again. The last ship, they had given her a tiny closet so that she didn’t have to share with the men. 

Simone rolled her eyes at her as she handed her back her brother's letter. Judging by her fidgeting, she probably wanted it back sooner rather than later. "I am a pirate. And as a pirate, I know that ransoms almost always end poorly. It's too easy to be led into a trap." She would never forget the ransoms that her father had tried to do, namely the ones that ended with at least one ship in their fleet taken down.

She gave Marie a small smile, understanding clear on her face. Losing her father had been horrible, but at least she knew he was gone. Not only was Fernand the only family she had left, but she didn't even know if he was still alive. "Long enough," she answered with a shake of her head. "I have leads. I'm just glad that it wasn't the other way around because then my poor brother wouldn't know how to find me." The image made her laugh a little as she shook her head. Fernand would no doubt attack every ship insight but otherwise wouldn't know where to start looking. She had always been more of the navigator than he was.

Marie's question took her out of her thoughts and she blinked. "You can take the captain's quarters while my brother is gone. I’m supposed to stay there, but..." She trailed off and shook her head. “I spend most of my nights here in the navigation room to begin with.”