[Lond]The Difference Between Men & Women [England]

[poland]

It had been some time since he had left his second home, since he had taken to his desperate search. Everywhere he went he had that sinking feeling that shadows were chasing at his heels, and it had sent him into a panic, driving him to keep on the move. Still, his paranoia that something or someone was chasing him didn't keep him from his goal of trying to find his missing friend. His search had started in Lithuania, desperate for clues from Toris' destination that might lead to finding him. Of course, it had led to nothing but dead ends and stories of a flying pirate ship.

Which didn't help at all, because in this day and age there were plenty of those. He had no clues other than "it flew" to guide him, and that wasn't enough. There was no one to ask about the attack, they were either dead, missing or too injured to speak. That of course had run him straight into a wall, and he had taken to drifting, fearful of whatever it was that he felt was after him, perhaps someone hired by his insane mother, perhaps something far more sinister. He was unsure.

All he knew as he walked down the streets of the British town was that he was alone, and he had no way of knowing when that would change. He wouldn't lose hope though, he knew somehow, some way, he was going to find Toris again. There was still a slim chance that his friend was alive, and simply held prisoner by the pirates. He chose to believe that Toris had some use to them, so he was still alive and well, and he would be able to launch a daring rescue, and save him from the dreaded pirates.

Of course anyone who took a look at him would wonder why exactly the Princess was thinking of rescuing her Prince, because it seemed like poor logic. In trying to avoid his mother catching him, he had continued to pretend he was a woman, and he was frighteningly good at doing so. The man at the fruit stand had been too busy trying to flirt with him to notice that he had stolen an apple from him, and Feliks planned on enjoying the fruit later with great pride. Of course, that was simply a small show of skill. He knew he could do better than that.

And so he did.

The necklace had been perfect, gorgeous emerald stone twisted within gold and silver coils. He had managed to make it out of the shop without anyone noticing that he had taken the trinket. He was a clever little fox, managing to create a distraction by questioning the shopkeeper about if he had a certain something or other in the back, and slipping the necklace into the bag he wore over his back before the man returned to say that no he didn't have what she was looking for. He had thanked the man before exiting the shop and continuing on his way, humming quietly to himself in his best lady-like fashion. No one would ever know that this beautiful thing in a dress was actually a man.

There was absolutely no way the day could go wrong.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur wearily walked the familiar paths of London's streets, trying to rub the headache he had away with one hand while the other stared at the face of a man that he was supposed to catch and bring back to his Queen. This particular dangerous individual had blond hair and green eyes and was from Poland. He'd taken in dangerous people before, it wasn't new to him - but this Feliks person... something about him didn't strike him as dangerous. He was almost familiar in a way that annoyed him to the point where he'd acquired his headache.

So he walked the streets, trying to let the comfort of being in his home country soothe the pain away. He was to get back to the Grim in a few hours and begin his search for the man in Gibraltar, where he'd been most recently spotted, and as it was a British Territory that he'd been to multiple times and was somewhat familiar with, he'd been chosen for the task of being a hunter yet again.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the pretty blond lady until he'd bumped shoulders with her. Caught off balance, he stumbled, but managed to keep his footing and not make even more of a spectacle of himself. Dressed as a noble, he couldn't allow others to see him as clumsy or awkward - it would sully his reputation (well... the reputation of a loner and a drunkard who didn't like any other nobles...).

But it was odd that he'd run into her - usually he could... almost feel where people were on the streets without even having to see them and even with his eyes closed he could walk down the streets of any British city without running into anyone. An odd talent... but it had nothing to do with his current situation.

"Oh dear - I'm sorry, m'lady. Are you alright?" he asked, embarrassed.

[poland]

Things had been going pretty well until the man had walked into him. Of course, both of them really were at fault for that. The contact had set off an odd spark, and almost instantly the man felt very- very familiar. Where had he seen him before? Maybe he'd stayed at the inn back home once before, that could be it. No matter, he wasn't anyone dangerous. He quieted his anger at being run into, reminding himself that this was a stranger and that blowing up at a stranger was really, really bad.

"Tak, jestem w porz¹dku....A-ah..I mean yeah, I'm like fine. Thank you for asking." The Polish came so easily that he had to work quick, blushing embarrasedly, to correct the mistake. He was in England, they spoke English in England, not Polish.

He frowned at the man a little, giving him a nervous look. Naturally he avoided eye-contact, which he was sure would seem suspicious. His paranoia spiked suddenly when he got a good look at the man, and he suddenly felt very cornered. Was this man familiar because he was the thing he was running from? No, that was an insane idea, and he wasn't a crazy person. Besides, this man didn't feel strongly malevolent.

It was impossible that this was who, or what, was after him. At least it wasn't directly that thing. Still, he felt like a rabbit standing before a wolf, and even as he took a few steps back with a nervous look on his face (if he hadn't looked suspicious before, he certainly did now) he felt rooted to the spot. He just waited for the man to speak again, to harshly demand what was wrong with him, why he was acting so weird.

[Arthur Kirkland]

There was something... familiar about this lady. Something that nagged at him like a persistent poke to the head. At first he couldn't figure it out - the lady acted nervous, as if she expected him to last out at her, which was odd but not impossible - some women were just like that.

It was the Polish that tipped him off. Well - at first he didn't know it was Polish, but the foreign language and the sense of almost-familiarity reminded him. This wasn't a woman he thought to himself as he lifted the picture in his hand from his side to up in front of his face. This was the man that he was supposed to go find in Gibraltar. Right here in London.

An odd kind of luck, but he wasn't about to question it. "Ah... I'm sorry Mr. £ukasiewicz. I almost didn't recognize you in that dress." he spoke calmly as he watched the man back up a few steps nervously. This... honestly didn't seem like the actions of a 'dangerous individual'. The blond was acting more like he was afraid of him - a stranger - as if he expected it to come to blows.

There was something odd in the city of London. And he was going to get to the bottom of it - following orders, or not following orders. "Please remain calm - I have a few questions I wish to ask you, and nothing more."

[poland]

Green eyes widened in shock when the man said his name. Not only did he use his name, but hell he knew he was a man. If one had thought he looked afraid moments before, he certainly looked even moreso now that he realized he didn't know this man, but this man seemed to know exactly who he was. Thoughts raced through his head, voices screaming at him that this was one of his mother's men. He didn't want to talk. He wasn't going to be nice. The minute he trusted him he was going to drag him back to Poland and make him really pretend to be a woman so his mother could marry him off because she was absolutely insane. All senses screamed "RUN" repeatedly, and his heart started pumping even harder.

It took only a split second for him to decide that his senses were absolutely right, and in that half a second he whirled around and bolted. One of the few things that made him proud of himself was his ability to move quickly, and it was only on a rare occasion that he met anyone who could keep up with him. Though generally he wasn't running in a full dress that reached down to his ankles, and he was entirely forgetful of the length of the skirt of his dress, and it didn't take long for the garment to remind him it was there. His foot caught against the fabric, and down he tumbled.

Hands stretched out to break the fall, and hit the ground at the same time as his knees did. Dazed as he was from the fall he was aware of several things that had just happened. The first was that he had just attempted to run in a dress without first gathering the material up higher, which was really stupid. The second was that he'd only made it about ten feet away from the man he'd been trying to escape, and he was now entirely incapable of fleeing further. Which led him to the third realization and several others after that. His dress was torn a bit, and for that he silently shouted at himself, hissing and spitting and violently reprimanding, he would need to sew it back up good as new if that was even still possible.

Aside from the damage to the dress, he was made startlingly aware that his palms were scraped up, and his knees were no better off. He didn't need to look at either to know they were bleeding, the pain alone told him that. He was also almost positive he'd twisted his ankle, which officially made him the easiest prey the man had probably ever found. He'd run like a rabbit, but gods he was the stupidest, clumsiest rabbit ever. He held in a sniffle at the pain, eyes watering just a little. The crowd seemed to have noticed, but by a pretty thing known as diffusion of responsibility, no one stopped to see if he was alright.

He took a shaky breath, curling his hands into small painful fists as he glared at the ground. Now he was genuinely afraid, he was going to be forced to go home, to marry a man who would only reject him upon figuring out he too was male, and he was going to be miserable for the rest of his life. On top of that he was bleeding, sore and was no longer very pretty because he was dirty and his dress was torn. This was by far the second worst day in his life. The worst was still the day he'd lost his best, and only, friend.

[Arthur Kirkland]

At first, Arthur was startled by the boy - he really didn't look or seem to be old enough to be coined 'man' in his head - bolted, the small green train flying up in the air behind him as he twisted around. There was something... oddly familiar and painful about watching Feliks fleeing. Arthur had no idea why that was, but as he tensed to run, he knew he had to catch up to the boy and find his answers.

Then Feliks tripped on his skirts, falling down and landing with a sound that made Arthur wince in sympathy. That really must have hurt. Taking quick steps to the fallen boys side, his heart went out for the poor startled rabbit - that was what Feliks was beginning to remind him of, and Arthur had always had a soft spot for rabbits.

Somewhat relieved that no one else was bothering to try to help the boy - and yet somewhat irritated that his own people could be so cold - he knelt down beside the poor thing, gut twisting as he heard him sniffle. This was entirely Arthur's fault, and he knew it. If he'd gone about introducing himself better instead of sticking his foot in his mouth, the child wouldn't have run.

"Hush dear, you'll be alright." he spoke softly, voice brimming with concern. "Come now, let me see where you hurt yourself - I can get you fixed up right quick." Reaching for one of the boy's hands, Arthur turned it over to see it scraped and bleeding, covered in dirt with small rocks embedded in it. Clicking his tongue, Arthur quickly glanced around and - aha! There was the fountain that he knew was in the area. That would have to suffice for the moment for cleaning his wounds. "Look, see - just over there. Let's wash you up and I'll see about getting you some bandages."

Picking up the fallen boy's bag, he offered a hand to help him stand. "Can you walk?"

[poland]

The moment the man knelt by him he tried to scuttle away, but only succeeded in sending a jolt of pain through his knees which rooted him to the spot. He was shocked at the concern in the man's voice, why was he helping him? Why was he being so kind when he was supposed to drag him back to Mother. It didn't make any sense, and the pain only made his confusion worse. How had this happened to him?

He cringed when the Englishman took his hand and examined it, feeling ashamed that someone else had to see him this weak. The boy stayed quiet as the man talked, trying to swallow back both his pride and fear so he could accept the help. He offered no smile, no look of grattitude, simply a stare of fear and pain, teary and afraid. He frowned at the man when the hand was offered to him, but after a long while he extended the fingertips of one of his own sore hands and slowly stood, holding the man's hand weakly. He didn't want to get blood all over him, and his fingertips were hardly touched, unlike his palms.

His ankle seared with pain when he put weight on it, and he let out a small yelp. More tears seemed to form in his eyes at the pain in his ankle, and upon gazing down at the dress and seeing just how damaged it was even more appeared, but did not fall. "Oohh it's ruined." He whined under his breath about the dress, seeming not to care about his twisted ankle. He quietly let go of the man's hand, giving him a bitter sort of look, and quietly limped past him, hobbling in the direction he'd been told to go.

Feliks sat down on the edge of the fountain, looking down at his feet and feeling very bad about himself. His dress was a horrible mess, and when he lifted it to peer at the damage done to his legs he let out a cry of dismay. His knees and shins were bloody and scratched up, red and sore looking. His right ankle was swollen just enough to be obvious, and throbbed with pain, looking very red. It wasn't broken, or at least he thought, perhaps just sprained. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he rested his palms against the cool stone of the fountain wall waiting for Arthur. The little relief it offered was enough to calm his mood some.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Settling the bag down between their feet, Arthur sat down in front of them, carefully picking up that injured hand again. With his other hand, he pulled out one of the many handkerchief's he kept on his person and dunked it in the fountain. As carefully as he could - trying to cause the least amount of pain, despite the fact that he knew it would hurt regardless - he dabbed at the injured hand, wiping away dirt, grit and blood until the palm was moderately cleaned before tying the wet cloth around the hand. Then he repeated the action over with the other hand and a new cloth.

Arthur eyed up the other injuries that were visible from Feliks's unintentional meeting with the cobblestones. Two scraped up knees - he could treat those much the same as the boy's hands, except he'd have to sacrifice his good white cravat as he only had three kerchiefs on him - and a slightly swollen ankle. "Here - let's get your ankle in the water." he reached down, removing the heeled shoe that had probably been the cause of the injured ankle and adjusted Feliks's position so he could dunk his foot in the water.

And the dress. Well - Arthur eyed it and figured it would be easy enough to repair. "And hush - it's only a tear. I can fix that up easily enough." he certainly owned enough patches and fabric and thread to be able to mend the torn dress. Though, admittedly, he usually used the supplies for his embroidery.

"There. That's about as good as I can do for now." he sighed, wiping a damp hand on his trousers. "Now... I do believe we really need to talk. I've... been given orders to gather you up for my Queen. But... I was told you were a dangerous criminal." He looked the poor thing up and down, raising an eyebrow. "I hope you take no offense to this, but you only seem a danger to yourself, not to others."

Shrugging a shoulder, he reached up and plucked his top hat from his head and scratched his hair, mussing up the formerly neat hair without a thought. "As I tend to have my own thoughts and opinions... would you mind explaining your side of the story to me? I might overlook the fact that I found you if I discover I have been... misinformed." And how heads would roll if he discovered his own Queen was lying to him.

[poland]

Feliks squeaked at the sensation of the cloth against his injured skin. Oh goodness that stung, that stung quite a bit. He resisted the urge to curl up, squirming a little as Arthur slowly too care of him. He managed to tough through the pain, though now he was crying a bit. It hurt a lot to have his cuts touched, they stung really bad, but he knew that meant they were getting clean. Even after Arthur was done they stung a bit, but he ignored them, slipping his ankle into the water. Oooh that felt amazing on his hurt ankle. He sighed softly at how good it felt, perking right up when the man said he could repair the dress.

"You really mean it?"

He would have continued along the train of thought, but the conversation turned serious. He listened quietly, looking down at his feet. How would his mother have the power to involve the goddamned Queen of England in this mess? No. It couldn't have been her. Something else, something far more powerful, was after him. That frightened him immensely. He seemed to be a little annoyed at the thought he was a danger to himself, but he realized the man was absolutely right. He sighed, smiling weakly when he had his turn to defend himself.

"To be honest..I don't know why anyone is after me now. I like...thought it had to do with Mother...but she totally doesn't have enough influence to have your Queen after me, so that like makes absolutely no sense now. I've never done anything wrong before, I mean like...sure I ran away from home, but Mother was going to make me pretend to be a woman and marry another man, which is totally not right. He wouldn't like me if I wasn't a girl anyways." Insecurity ran deep in his words, which were spoken bitterly, knowing they were the truth.

"Ok yeah...yeah I like also got in a fight with Toris, but I totally didn't mean that, and that's like the only reason I'm here now. I was hoping that maybe I could find some hint about what happened to him if I looked around enough, because I just wanna go back home to the Inn, but I can't because I promised I'd get Toris back from the pirates..."

He was rambling, and quickly shut himself up looking at his feeth pathetically. He wanted Toris back. He wanted his best friend back with him so he could go home and they could be happy again. Now he didn't think he was ever going to do that because he was apparantly a wanted crimminal, which meant he was going to go to jail and then he'd never catch the pirates that took Toris. In short, he was doomed, and he looked ready to cry because he'd come so far, and he had finally hit a dead end, no Toris.

[Arthur Kirkland]

The whole story would have gone completely over his head if he hadn't seen the exact opposite of it in his sister, Saorise, who had always dressed as a man until his parents tried to force her to marry. When he'd rescued her, she'd been pretending to be a man again to prevent anyone from finding out she was a woman.

But the boy was right - he doubted that some polish woman who was apparently crazy enough to want her son to pose as a woman and get married of all things would have influence on Her Majesty. Which meant there was more going on that he wasn't being told about.

And for some reason, that rankled him far more than it should. Why did having his monarch not tell him things fill him with such rage? It wasn't as if she was required to share her information...

"Toris?" he asked, trying to break himself away from his angry thoughts. He had no idea who this other was, or what relation either had to an Inn of any kind, but the blond boys chatter was keeping him from getting too worked up over odd things, and maybe - just perhaps - he was getting an idea.

[poland]

Feliks nodded at the question. "He's like..totally my best friend ever, well...he was. I don't know if he wants to be my friend anymore, we got in a really big fight because he was like gonna leave me because he was going to a University." He frowned bitterly. "I was like gonna appologize when he came home, or fly out to the school to see him, because it would totally be best to make things right in person. Except I didn't get the chance...the airship he was on was attacked by pirates. As far as the people I've talked to know, he wasn't among the dead or the injured, which means the pirates took him." He was getting worked up, crying now and sobbing softly, sniffling between sentances.

"I just wanna find him so I can go home and we can be happy again."

Oh what a pathetic little boy he seemed like now as he wiped his tears on the back of his hand. Why couldn't things go back to being normal again? He just wanted his best friend back, alive and well, and then they could go back to the Inn and live happy lives together. That seemed too much to ask from the world though, which made his heart ache. He sniffled, but calmed himself, and quietly appologized "I'm sorry for getting all teary like this, it's like totally pathetic. He was just like...my only friend and now I might not get to see him again."

Even if the man took pity on him and let him go, he still hadn't heard anything that would make him any more capable of finding his friend.

[Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur couldn't help it - his heart went out to the poor boy that reminded him so much of himself. After all... he was still searching for Dylan and Emrys - when he'd last seen Saorise, she'd promised to contact him if she ran into either one but he'd heard nothing from her for a long while...

Shaking his head, Arthur was determined not to dwell too much more on his own problems - and there was something he could do to help the lad, despite his orders. In actuality, he was making the offer because of those orders. Even just listening to the bare bones of Feliks's story, he could tell that what he'd been told was absolutely not true.

And the idea of keeping him close until he could drag out the truth was too tempting. "Well... as I said, I'll keep my promise and not try to catch you. But... I may have an idea?" he said after a long moment of quiet thought. "I captain a privateering vessel. Perhaps... well, I suppose it would be in your best interest to have a better form of travel than by foot. And I could certainly use more bodies on my crew - god knows I have a bunch of slackers and jokers at the moment..." He looked away, mildly embarrassed by coming out with the offer so quickly.

But this was a chance he had to take.

[poland]

An idea? The boy lifted his head to listen to Arthur's words, curious as to what this grand idea was. Part of him absolutely didn't like the idea of joining with a pirate...privateer, whatever it was Arthur was. The other part told him it was the only way to find Toris and be happy again. He gave the englishman a nervous sort of look. "Like...I don't know what to say to that, you know?" He stared down at his feet nervously.

"I mean...you've been nice and all, but I don't know if going with you would help me any." Though it might keep the people after him off his tail if they thought the man they'd sent for him had him. Oh wait, the man had been sent after him by the queen of England no less. "How do I know I can like trust you anyways, I might not seem like a threat enough to warrant bringing me to your queen, but like how do you know this isn't all an act?" He rose to his feet, giving Arthur a mock-threatening look.

"I could like be the worst sort of crimminal, I could totally be like pulling your leg and acting all pathetic so you'll get close. And then-" He produced a small stilleto knife from his boot and pointed it almost dangerously at the englishman "I could just kill you." He looked serious about it for a very long time.

His seriousness was broken only when a jolt of pain rocked through his sore ankle and one wavering step made him realize he was no longer in even footing, and down once more he toppled. This time he simply landed on his ass looking more startled than hurt, though he muttered a soft "Ow.." The worlds most pathetic excuse for a dangerous crimminal had just become even more pathetic.

"But really no I'm not that dangerous."

He giggled as he sat there on his ass and said "Yeah I think I'll take you up on that offer." A pause then "Don't worry, I'm not like totally useless. I'm totally a master thief, you have no idea. I'm sneaky as hell, never been caught once. I bet that's a useful skill eh? Plus I know how to fight a little, and I can work hard." Well he worked hard when he needed to, most of the time he was lazy, but he didn't need to say that.

[Arthur Kirkland]

”Mr.£ukasiewicz, I-” Arthur tried to interrupt, as the boy seemed to be talking himself out of what would probably be one of his best chances at not only getting away from the scrutiny of his Queen, the strange mother figure the boy had mentioned and come somewhat closer to finding his friend, but the standing up with a knife in his hands silenced Arthur before he could attempt to make a case. He tensed slightly, taking what the younger man was saying seriously once there was something sharp and potentially deadly in his hands.

Then £ukasiewicz wobbled a bit before falling over in what was nearly the most pathetic manner ever. Not sure why he’d taken the stiletto as a threat now that the boy was on the ground giggled and accepted his offer.

With a bemused sigh, Arthur stood, running his fingers through his hair again. ”Well, Mr. Master Thief,” he offered his free hand once again to the young blond, ”welcome aboard the Grim. Let’s get you down to the docks, I believe you need an appointment with my doctor.”

Giving the slightly swollen ankle a lingering look, Arthur had to ask, ”Though... do you think you could walk that far?”

[poland]

Feliks happily accepted the hand, grinning up at Arthur. Slowly he stood, testing his ability to stand, finding that he could put a little weight on his ankle without too much pain. Then it hit him. He was a part of a crew. He was going to be able to hunt down the men who stole Toris from him with more ease now!

"Like yeah, I can tough it out."

Which contrary to popular belief, he was tough deep down. Something in the back of his head told him that he'd suffered much worse once upon a time, though he couldn't remember it. It made him feel the urge to be stronger though, and soon enough he was standing tall looking ready to follow Arthur.

Surely it wasn't all putting on a front of strength for his Captain, he knew somehow that it would be good to be tough for the man. Yet, he'd already seen him at his weakest, falling and hurting himself all because he thought his mother was after him.

He wondered if by then she was dead or had stopped caring. Maybe she had married again and had her daughter after her son had fled. Maybe she was happier without him in her life to remind her of their family's glory days.