Realistic or Modern Victorian London

[GreyZone]

Margaret did find it interesting that she was so at ease with Victor; she didn't have much experience with anyone, let alone a man, and of his stance.


"Will you come sit beside me?" She requested, removing her bonnet and unpinning her hair so it tumbled down, reaching her waist.


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[Syrrus]

Victor blinked at her in slight confusion. Perhaps there was something wrong with the young man, perhaps he was just a little thick or maybe he was simply too innocent for his own good. Moving, like she had asked, to sit next to her he almost fell flat forward when the carriage began to move. His head hitting hers with such force he were certain that he saw a few stars.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret's head reeled back and she quickly grabbed it. "Oh my heavens. I do not thing I have been hit that hard since a man thought I gave him a drink in a dirty glass and charged him more than his friend."


She took his head and guided it into her lap. "You stay here, good Sir. I do not trust your depth perception. Maybe your grandmother loosened a few screws with her cane."


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[Syrrus]

Victor couldn't help but feel rather surprised. One wrong step and now he was laying with his hand in a young lady's lap. It was a strange feeling, a slight confusion but nothing he could complain about. "This was a interesting turn of events." He mumbled, his glasses sitting rather wonkily on his nose., his hat laying on the floor, upside down.


The pumping of the road caused the man's headache to frustrate him even more sadly, though he didn't wish to complain, not from where he was laying.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret didn't seem phased by his words, and she fixed his glasses before running a gentle hand through his hair, above his ear.


"How is that cane welt feeling? That looked horrible," she remarked quietly, running her finger along his jaw. "Hungover, deprived, and beaten... You poor man."


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[Syrrus]

"All in a day's work." Victor chuckled, not to phased by either the event from earlier or the pain it was giving him now. "I am quite used to a beaten head, with my drinking it tends to happen quite a lot. " He sighed slightly and closed his eyes. "Usually I drink before the hangover can take a hold of me though, that tends to take the pain away."


Victor were what someone would call a alcoholic, perhaps a more hygienic and kind alcoholic but a alcoholic none the less.

 

[GreyZone]

"That is a shame," she muttered, tracing his hairline with one finger. "You may sleep, if you want. I will wake you when we need to board the train."


She glanced down at the golden wedding band on her left hand and quickly pulled it off. "You should take this back."


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[Syrrus]

"No." He pushed her hand away from him, the one holding the ring. "You keep it, I have no reason to have it." It was just a gold ring, he saw no purpose in keeping it around. If he was going to marry anyone - which he never was - he'd try and get hold of something a little bit important than just a golden circle. Maybe something written on the inside, maybe something else. He was certain he'd come up with something.

 

[GreyZone]

She nodded slowly and slipped it on her right hand. "A single barmaid is a much more interesting one. I will just switch it over whenever you need me to play bride for you," she teased him.


Margaret's hand returned to his hair, gently running through it. "May I take a look at your wound? I promise I will be gentle:"


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[Syrrus]

"Wound?" He had a wound? He didn't know he did, he knew he was in pain and he could feel a drop of blood drying on his cheek but he had no idea what had happened to the back of his head, nor how bad it seemed. "I suppose you may..." He mumbled, suddenly looking a lot paler than he had done, previous.

 

[GreyZone]

"Why do you look so pale?" She asked as she turned his head so he was facing down in her lap.


Margaret slowly moved his hair away so she could look at the damage the cane had done. "Oh, Victor," she exhaled.


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[Syrrus]

"Oh gods, it is bad isn't it. Please, do not explain to me what you see, what is wrong or... or anything of the sort." Victor hated blood, blood, gore and bone was the most disgusting thing about human biology, he could not stand the idea of seeing his own or anyone else's bloods, not even one small drop. His fear of blood was what made him look so pale, the thought of having a open wound - especially over the head - terrified him something horribly. Though something he did not wish to speak of.

 

[GreyZone]

"It really is not that bad," she told him, adjusting her skirts beneath his head. "Nothing to cry over, I will tell you that."


That was only partially true, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "Are you going to come get a drink from me when you return?"


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[Syrrus]

"Return from where?" She made it sound as if he was going away somewhere, he hoped she wasn't speaking of 'returning from a hospital' he hated doctors. "Being so flattered by you, I believe I'll spend more time at your pub than I would normally, if that is alright with you. Would not want you to get into any trouble with your folks. Especially not over a spoiled little rich boy."

 

[GreyZone]

"Return from this trip to your grandmother's, silly boy," she responded, brushing over the bridge of his nose with her fingers.


"What, how are you planning on explaining our little adventure to my family? That you randomly borrowed me to play your wife?"


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[Syrrus]

"I do not know, Margaret." Victor mumbled as he placed hand over his eyes. It was hard enough for him to think as it was, never mind coming up with a lie as to why he had taken a young woman away from her workstation, in the early morning. "I will probably say nothing of the sort, simply catch the blows they throw at your pretty little face."


The noble had never experienced such a dull yet tragic day in his life. Tragic as in the way of him not being able to do what he wished to do, when he wished to do it. Spending time with others were too nerve-racking.

 

[GreyZone]

"You may go home," she said after a pause, her hands moving away from his hair and face. "I have known you for two days now and I take it that you much prefer...solitude."


And by that, she meant that he preferred being alone, drunk, and on some sort of drug as he worked at whatever he worked at. "You would perish if you had my job. It is basically to entertain people all of the day. Wonderful, really." She rolled her eyes.


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[Syrrus]

"Entertaining people is not all that bad, I enjoy playing my songs for a crowd, but I would never do it for a living. Music is for beauty, passion and sorrow, not for money that only the rich can pay." Victor frowned, before peering up at the young woman.


"I will not go home, I need to make sure you get home safely and without punishment, I also promised to pay twice what you would have earned this day, so I will do that as well. I hope your family takes checks."

 

[GreyZone]

"Yes, but playing music for people is different from pushy men telling you about how horrible their wives and children are," she retorted with a sad smile. "So many people are unhappy and I do not know why. I just find it strange that some hurl themselves headfirst into situations and then cry when they're dissatisfied with it."


She sighed and picked up his hat, sitting it next to her on the seat. "No, you are not allowed to pay me. I am not a charity case, Mr. Edwards."


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[Syrrus]

"It's because people do not understand what happiness means." Victor mumbled, he seemed rather tired - which was only a new way for a gateway to his deep mind to open up. The gibberish was about to unfold and there was nothing he could do about it. "They search, travel and change, to try and find the point of happiness when nothing feels wrong. When everything is right. They are looking, so hard in fact, that they do not realize where they are at that moment. They do not see what they have for they are looking for what they cannot have, something they do not even know exists or what -even- that they are searching for.


"Sorrow comes with wishing, wishing breaks the heart. It is a mortal fault to reach higher no matter where they stand, and while reaching we forget what we have accomplished, what we have earned and whom we have won."

 

[GreyZone]

"I think it comes more from the fact that lower class men turn to lager and young girls who do not know better when they are wishing," Margaret snapped back. In all reality, she didn't want to hear Victor's poetic reasonings for the misfortunes of /her/ class. He didn't understand them, and he never would. He just sat upon his pedestal of stature and wealth and gazed down, simplifying and mocking a life that he had never known.


"It is more difficult than you presume, Mr. Edwards," she replied in a tight voice. "To not know where your next meal is coming from, to hope to sell enough to buy a new dress, one a year if you are lucky. I sold two of my back molars for this corset that I am wearing, simply so I could sell more. The cycle is never ending, Mr. Edwards, and you speak of horrors you know nothing of."


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[Syrrus]

"Do I indeed. I agree, I have not experienced the faulty of poverty personally, though they who I have spent my time with has, in one way or another. My painter lover per instance, had not a penny to her name, she traveled through land with nothing in her pockets and less to her name, a illegal immigrant in every land she visited, avoiding authority and living like a prostitute, a gypsy, to survive." Victor frowned, though not at Margaret. "I admit I did nothing to aid her pains either, I loved her with all my heart. The beauty of her eyes, her view upon the world and her way of smiling, no matter what had happened the day before. She stood steady, tears running down her painted cheeks and with a smile upon her lips, saying that a new day has come and with that: new hope."


The nobleman opened his eyes and peered at a dark spot in the roof, frowning upon the bumping of the streets they rolled down. "Then there was the soldier, a man given to military service at a early age by his father - staying due to promise of protection to his family, never to see them again. Taught by military men in the cruelty of Russian hospitality, believing that was all life could give. In a attempt, with his fellow scouts and comrades, to rape a young finish woman, he snapped out of what happened and beat his comrades to a pulp in a failed attempt to stop the demon that had grown within his heart. To prove that he was indeed different from them. I met him as a grown man, a proud though hateful solder who spoke nothing but ill words about his homeland and his status. He despised life, everything within it, but worked hard to send comfort and money back to his family who he never knew if they were still alive. Just to die himself, with a bullet through the heart."


Victor shook his head. "So yes you are correct, I have not surferred the pain of life. My life is like a poem, I am drifting through the world, observing and recoding what I see without harm coming to me. Judging, just as they will and won't judge me."

 

[GreyZone]

"I fail to see why you are so attracted to those who scrape by on nothing but their soul," Margaret replied after listening to his stories of his lovers with stony eyes. "Do you find it glamorously tragic? Do you enjoy your Mr. Poe so much that you tantalize yourself by inserting yourself into one of his horrific tales by loving those who are in the bottom of the food chain, Mr. Edwards? You can play the part of the misfortunate and starving artist all you want, but you, Sir, cannot pretend as if you understand what it is like from day to day. Loving someone who suffers does not make you a saint as going to church does not make you a lover of God."


She truly did not understand why she was going off at him all of a sudden, but she was fired up and was not about to back down. She had suffered his skirting conversations the whole day and she was not about to listen to his views on a world he did not experience.


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[Syrrus]

"How dare you imply that I see myself as a saint. The whole notion is laughable, saints. Do not speak with a uneducated mind, you are intelligent enough to know the difference between man and saint." Victor sat up, his head dizzy and blood pressure low. "I never said I was living in suffering, in fact I said myself that I was a observer, the feeling of loss and grief is not beyond me, though the idea of starvation is. I live on a buffet of stories, I can looked down upon people of interest and learn from watching though never experience."


Victor turned his head towards her, looking at her through round shades. "Though just as myself you judge me. You judge my experience on the money I have in my pocket, believing that my life is easy, simply and without fault. I never judged you, nor your family - nor anyone else - in your presence, so why are you judging me?"

 

[GreyZone]

"Exactly, in my presence," she replied tartly, crossing her arms and avoiding looking at him. "I can only play a silly little wife for so long without thinking of the much larger game, Victor."


"You are lying if those girls are not ridiculing my fashion and my demeanor right now. I am no fool, Mr. Edwards. There is a reason that I only associate with other poor girls who were not born on the rainy streets of London."


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