Lead Us Not Into Temptation (LoveTheWayYouLie x VforVienna)

[vforvienna]

To the Honorable Law Commissioner,

It is with grave desperation that I write to you to implore your assistance with a matter most dire. On the morning of Sunday the 12th of this very month, as our community gathered to the Church for morning service, our beloved Reverend Giles Warren was found dead upon the sacred building’s very steps. If this were not a devastating shock within its own right, the manner in which his body was found beseeches me to write to you for aid. His throat had been cut from to ear to ear, but no blood was spilled upon the steps. And most peculiarly, the petals of a bloomed red rose were found not only in the deceased’s mouth, but with a single petal laid across each eye. I implore you, your Honor, to aid Larkhill with our grief and confusion. We are shaken to the core and fear the presence of this unknown Devil who could have committed this vile act. Whomever you charge with this I will see personally lodged and taken care of within my own home.

With Deepest Respect,

Mayor Jonathon Hale ​

Since its settlement prior to the war, the small village of Larkhill had been an ultimately peaceful place. With a close-knit population never teetering over 400, a resident could barely sneeze without the entire village knowing within a matter of hours. This intimate knowledge of ones neighbors for the most part reassured the people of their safety - it was a seemingly picturesque place, carved upright and deeply rooted in moral principle. But like most villages accustomed to their solitude, an underlying distrust was present in the face of any outsider.

When the Reverend was found slain, the outcry of the community was that surely none of them had committed the crime – a flurry of paranoia swept through the streets, and those visiting Larkhill were rounded up and brought before the Mayor for questioning. Yet finding no reason or evidence to condemn the accused, Mr. Hale simply requested the visitors not to leave the village until the matter was settled…lest they take suspicion along with them.

“Surely your Father cannot keep us here!” Arthur Glassman glowered, slouching his large form at a table at the local pub, gripping a mug of coffee so tightly within his large hand that his knuckles paled. “I have a business at home to run; I cannot idle about here while your village writhes in its xenophobia,”

Across from him, sitting upright with long fingers delicately laced upon his lap, Thomas Hale listened with gentle sympathy. The young man, barely into his 19th year, had been sent to console those detained. Most had reluctantly accepted but Mr. Glassman, with his flushed red skin to match his coarse fiery hair, had proved less than cooperative.

Brushing a hand back through his own dark hair, Arthur gently picked up his tea and took a sip, allowing the man in front of him to seethe a few breaths. From a distance, one could liken in jest the arrangement as a giant from some fairy tale sitting across in dispute from some Fey prince. Truly Thomas’ carved features and lean figure would match the creatures of legends from the Old World, if not the striking hue of his eyes; a shade of blue as fluctuating as the states of water...gentle and serene, as piercing as ice, or clouded with strange distance..

Whispers were passed through Lakehill of a strange air about the Mayor’s son, though none would dare speak above a hushed tone on the matter. The boy was charming and kept mostly to himself, and with matters such as these, he seemed more capable than his Father of smoldering any potential panic fires.

“Well Mr. Corey, I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience that our loss may be causing you or your business,” Arthur spoke softly but directly, the faintest hiss of sarcasm on his tongue, arching a dark brow in the direction of the visiting tradesman who grimaced slightly at the statement, “My Father has received notice that a Constable will be arriving soon to aid us with this matter. I can assure you that you will be on your way in due time,” Standing up and straightening his coal-colored jacket, Thomas plucked a few coins from his pocket and set them beside his tea.

“Oh, this means you’ll be able to participate in our Harvest festival,” A smile pulled at the youth’s lips, “So your delay will not be entirely dreadful, hm?” Not intending to stay behind for a response, Thomas turned on his heel and left through the door – his eyelashes fluttering gently at the mist of fog that greeted him outside. Though well into the afternoon, the haze had not lifted, so there had been little point to taking his horse that day – though even if the skies had been clear, Thomas would have elected to walk. He was not keen on returning to the shouting and bickering old men that had clotted his home for the last week…and besides, walking gave better chance for him to catch an early glimpse of this visiting Constable upon his arrival.

That smile still lingering upon his lips turned up slightly at one end as the young man exhaled a content sigh.

It had been some time since he had met a man from the city...

 

[LoveTheWayYouLie]

The busy and bustling streets of Boston, worried little about anything outside of their own filthy and crowed streets. From their own pick pocketing children, and beggars, they ran their own share of wild moments and murders of passion. Their homes all crammed together, living above shops and taverns. Or living in large confined groups on the less ends of town. The poor walked the same streets as the wealthy as if they walked in to separate worlds. Their own news papers filled with local news was all that was needed to sate them in the worries of the world.

Nicholas Foster had been born of the outside of the city, in a slum with his Irish immigrant mother. She had gotten herself mixed up with an Englishman, and came over to be with his family here. But when her husband died in the war, his family shoved the Irish bitch out of their home, and their fortune. Lost, and pregnant she lived in a crowded apartment home with her son and her son alone. The boy grew up in a world full of danger, lies, and death. But never did he fall pray to these actions. He never stole, he never lied....and he worked hard for his mother. She always told him, a just and loving man would find a safe and golden home in heaven.

Never had that changed, even know as Nicholas lived on his own as a well respected Constable in the city of Boston. Investigating murders was his specialty, checking the bodies for clues he was unfaded to get down and dirty to hunt a killer down.

He had grown quite comfortable in his home town, and the underbelly of the city that he also called home and sniffed out the monsters. That was until he got a letter from his boss, Jason Marlow, Law Commissioner. Stating to him that he was to pack, and travel on the date of Monday the 18th of October to the village of Larkhill to investigate their first unnamed murder. The people of Larkhill were peaceful and only having deaths from illness, child birth, accident, or crimes of passion that could be pin pointed to someone. But all of those things happened life spans between them. Never had a crime so brutal happened to someone so well known.

At first Nicholas didn't want to leave the comfort of home, and his well known city streets for some village in the mountains in the middle no where. Things had been relatively peaceful since the war, but that still didn't mean Nicholas liked wandering in the mountains.

But, he didn't argue with his Commissioner and got his few bags ready. Getting out the equipment he would need to investigate the body and the crime scene. As well as all the paper work, and pen with ink he would need to be taking the statements from every single person in the town. Even down to the children which he knew people would controversial. Those in the small village towns were so leery of outsiders, that he would make quite the entrance he knew. Armed with his books, his papers, and his mind he filled the carriage that had been waiting for him on the morning. Boarding the carriage, he left his warm little home and was on his way to Larkhill.

The trip took about two days, and it had one of the longest and most boring rides of his life. Reading all the books he had brought, and wrote enough in his journal to keep a hundred people entrained if they read it. But, once he finally reached Larkhill it was late afternoon and coming to the evening. Nicholas was starving, and ready to get the hell out of the carriage. But was they crossed the entrance gates to the village it was rather dark and rainy out. The fog was thick, and the smoke from the chimneys filled the sky.

The carriage driver rode him right into town. Alot of the people had the shutters on their homes closed, and the sheep ran way from the road side as the horse and carriage clomped into town. It was rather quiet in the early evening. Nicholas knew the mayor knew he was coming on this day, and that was going to be his place of resistance as he investigated this heinous murder. It wasn't till the carriage stopped that Nicholas sighed deeply. Finally....he could get the hell off this wooden hell box.

The driver opened the door for him, and Nicholas stepped out. Stroking a hand through his blonde locks and his blue eyes looked around at the quiet, sleepy town. The door to the manor opened and out step a round and cheerful looking man. Dressed in the best the town could make, and his bread was thick and pepper colored. He gave a very kind smiled to the Constable and walked down the steps to greet him.

"Oh Constable, I'm so glad you have arrived!" He reached to shake the other mans hand, "I'm Jonathon Hale, its a pleasure to have you in Larkhill good sir." Nicholas reached out and took the larger mans hand, giving it a hearty shake which caused the mayor to smile.

"It tis a pleasure Sir Jonathon Hale, thank you for offer your home as a place for my residency, I appreciate the kind gesture. I'm Constable Nicholas Foster" He said, his voice was calm and steady like summer rain and it seemed to make the Mayor happy to hear it as the sweet smile never left his face.

"Please, come inside Constable Foster....supper is about to be served. Are you hungry from your travels?" He asked as he gestured for Nicholas to come inside and Nicholas gave a small smile.

"Yes dear Mayor, I am famished" The mayor gave a hearty laugh as he walked the new house guest into their beautiful home. The driver taking in the mans things before moving on his way.