teleios | {OPEN} ♔ they call her the black crow

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{OPEN} ♔ they call her the black crow

( september 1st ; outside the temple )

It's the first, and yet another month beginning with the confusion and alarm of those kidnapped and brought to be judged.

Despite the sun being rather unforgiving in its heat, with no nights to cool the ground and the air, Anne is dressed head to toe in black; a state of mourning for those brought here and forced away from lives they once knew. She has few jewels owned here, so she herself has seen to the gown with ornate embroidery of silver thread, especially along the belled sleeves and the breast of the bodice. Her hair is gathered up in a coif, wrapped beneath a french hood. Other than her rings, the only jewelry she wears today is her silver crucifix pendant.

But even with the dress of mourning, the young woman's smile is as bright and inviting as the sun, as she remains near a large table set up and arranged just outside the temple, beside the bottom of the steps.

With help from those in the kitchen and others with kind hearts, the table has been brought out and covered with inviting things, such as food and drink. There is a tray holding biscuits and fruit jam, another tray with fruit pies, and yet another with smaller mincemeat pies. At the other end there are a couple silver coffeepots with an arrangement of condiments beside: sugar, honey, milk (before it curdles), chocolate shavings, and ginger shavings. There is also a pitcher of ale, since it's a proper daytime drink, and water beside that.

There isn't only food and drink on this table, but also a pile of First-Aid Kits put together by Anne and Beverly Crusher and handed to anyone who wants them; something Anne had learned to do in Exsilium. Truthfully, this welcoming table is not her idea, but also one brought from her former life. It's the only way she feels she can contribute just now.

Strangest yet is beside the First-Aid Kits, there rests an open Bible written in Latin. Perfectly normal presentation, right? Well, it is to her Reformist mind. She would have it in English if she could.

She strives to greet any who might come down the temple steps this day, to show them that this is all free and welcome to them. If there should be any penalty for the abuse of supplies and food, it should be on Anne Boleyn's head. The Bible is the only thing to personally belong to her.

[ ooc; OPEN and backdated to the arrivals on the first! Anne would have been vocal about requesting help for moving the table and setting everything up, so feel free to handwave that your character helped if you like. I just didn't want to spam the Arrival Log with a top-level. ]

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Once again, Derek is here to see if there are any familiar faces in the Temple on arrival day. Once again, he's leaving disappointed. Both seem to have become a ritual for him. He could go back upstairs to his room and brood about it. He's decided to go to the rec center and work out, channel all that negativity into something positive, something that would make him feel better.

Heading out of the temple after grabbing his gym bag, he spots Anne at the table. He's grinning when he pauses to say hello, stepping up to the table to see what she's doing. "Hey, pretty girl. More cookies? And..." He looks over her, a slow down and then back up. "...did somethin' happen?"

Having forced herself to move on quickly here, as she had in Exsilium, she doesn't come to the grand hall with many expectations. A glimmer of hope is hard to quell, but even when she does enter the grand hall, it isn't in search of anyone specific. This month she has started to expand on what she had started doing. Tables carry a lot more snacks than baskets, and the First-Aid-Kits are more important than people may think.

Upon seeing Derek, she's quick to nod her head in greeting, but she doesn't reach for a hug like she might normally would have. Otherwise, though, her smile is as friendly, a curious quirk to her brow at his inquiry while she glances down to her dress, like she expects to find a blood stain or something. He must be thinking of the color.

"Ah, do not worry, for I know not of any deaths this day. It is merely a symbol. A reminder to myself."

Johanna and food are like a moth and flame. On a day like today, she figures it's for the newbies and she's clearly not new, so she's holding back from taking any, but damn. It smells delicious, and she knows from this woman's stint in the kitchens (and her own period of only one meal a day) that it tastes justs as good too.

"Where were you when I got here? This looks amazing," she says. Shame Peeta had gotten here the same month as her too, considering the baking he hands out to new arrivals.

Moving down the table to the first aid kits, she raises an eyebrow and picks one up to examine. "What are these?"

That momentary concern that had etched his brow eases away and he nods his understanding. Even if it's only a partial understanding. He's relieved to know no one died though. This color was so stark against her pale skin and so different compared to the dress he had last seen her in. It was hard not to notice it and be at least a little concerned about it. "What kind of reminder?"

His smile is back in place, albeit a bit smaller as he inspects the contents of the table. It's quite the spread, very thoughtful. Literally. Anne really thought of everything. The only thing that gives him pause is the bible at the end of the table. Derek opens the book, sees that it isn't in English, delicately turns the page for a man with such large hands and looks up to Anne. The question is written on his features, smile gone, confusion obvious.

Peter was still working this all out in his head. He was a prisoner, working off his debt which - let's be honest - he wasn't denying to himself that he might owe. He'd deny it to others but not himself.

Except he was alone, without his ship, and unarmed. None of this was good in his mind. Slipping out of the temple, he was looking for answers that weren't entirely forthcoming, but he wasn't entirely down about it all.

In fact, as he explored, he had his headphones on and was dancing about a bit as he looked into rooms, stepping out into the light.

"Whoa."

The town was bigger than he had expected, and with a few familiar sights he new of from his early Terran years. Of course all of that is mostly forgotten with food.

Giving a spin and a few steps, he picked up a fruit pie, definitely appreciative of the spread enough to knock off his headphones so they settled at his neck and looking around. "Who's in charge of the spread?"

When first the man approached the table, Anne keeps to herself, merely watching in her peripheral vision with muted amusement while tending to the questions of others. It's always somewhat of a game to her now, to try to guess the status of peoples she finds in these new worlds. She is so often wrong, because the attire of other worlds and times differ so greatly, but that doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate a good challenge.

He has some colors, but they're not overt, and he seems to appreciate leather. He behaves for all the world like he's comfortable, even if he isn't. Naturally she might think some kind of huntsman or even a man of the sea, like a sailor or pirate, but she has seen headphones before now, and that means he already knows technology.

She is pulled from her musing when he finally speaks, and Anne wastes little time in moving to his side. She sweeps her arms out, one behind her and one raised in front, as she lowers into a curtsy with her back straight, and gaze downward.

"My name is Anne Boleyn. Is there something here that might trouble you?"

Edited 2014-09-03 19:59 (UTC)

Smiling towards Johanna, Anne must of course bow her head in humility at such a compliment. She can't take credit for all the food, though, having had help on some things like the fruit pies. She doesn't have her signature tarts out today, keeping those for the breakfast crowd usually.

Moving to the young woman's side, Anne reaches for one of the kits and opens it up to show her. There's just about a little of everything that might be recognized by...anyone not from Anne's time. It's a wonder she herself knows how to use many of these things.

"Medical supplies, so as you may not be caught to unawares in times of trouble. I can teach you to use what you may not know, if it pleases you."

She doesn't answer his question, instead a ghost of a smile weakening her features, with a gaze that could look right through him before she turns to see the Bible that he handles. The pages are delicate, and the writing even moreso, enough that it might be difficult for some to read. The cover is a leather of fine craft, with an ornate binding, and no words upon it.

Drifting to his side, she reaches out to touch one of the pages he stops on.

"Would you have me read for you? God's word can heal more than any medical box, or nourish more than any food."

Leonard wanders outside once he's sure none of the new arrivals have disappeared to bleed out in peace. It's sort of a steady thing that at least one new Indebted will arrive on the brink of death, so once he's assured all is well, he heads down the Temple steps to head back to the Enterprise to get some sleep before he finishes packing and moving to the house he's claimed.

But he slows his steps as he passes the table, then stops and turns back, picking up a med kit and popping it open to have a look inside. He then lifts his head to make eye contact with the woman there and nods his head at her in acknowledgment.

"Ma'am." His eyes return to the kit and he sorts through what's in there. Huh. Pretty standard stuff. "Are you one of the medics here?" Because she sure doesn't look like one, but he's not going to write her off because of her clothes. Or is it a costume?

The question is laughable, but then in her recent times she has been asked if she were a seamstress, and has already had to suffer being a cook. Couldn't anything be possible?

But she shakes her head and bows it, a movement of deference to one who might accuse her of falseness. "I would never claim the knowledge of a physician, as I am but a woman and too simple. I merely put forth what little I have been allowed to learn in a previous realm, like this and yet not, in an attempt to better prepare denizens for possible harm."

His brows furrow at her comment and he takes it to mean that she's from the time period her dress suggests. Well, some of the things here must throw her for a loop.

"Nah, we have women doctors working in the infirmary here. They sure aren't too simple." But he lets it go and gestures to the first aid kit.

"This is a good idea, with the way this place likes to be unpredictable. You say you were somewhere else sort of like this place?"

She smiles less humbly when it becomes clear he is a supporter of the strength of a woman's mind. She already knows one can be a doctor, as it's Doctor Crusher who treated her last month, but still she must always play careful and coy when first meeting any man. She can meet a thousand but still never assume they are a feminist.

Nodding, Anne steps closer, one hand pressing to her belly and steady her nerves while she talks about her experience.

"Yes, though it is not simple, either. It was a place, but moreso...a time. My world but not. England was forgotten, and in its' place a camp of rebels named Exsilium. Everyone I knew was to be dead, and my home as if it never existed."

As some of the kits have been taken, Anne goes to re-arrange them so that once again they look organized and pretty, making it as one would a pyramid.

"They abused the laws of God, and took control of time. For a good cause, they said, but who is to know if it saved as many lives as it destroyed." Specifically a child she can't name, for fear of her heart breaking once again, so she continues. "We lived in a land known only for war. Where the sun always shines here, there it was always hidden behind clouds and rain, no color or life to speak. With so much death, it was necessary to learn such basic ways, for where they spoke law, they practiced none."

"Now that sounds a worse place than here by far, even with all its faults." Sure, dangerous things occurred in Teleios -- even life-threatening events -- but at least it wasn't some beaten down place full of war and time travel. For a man in the military, he's not too fond of war either.

"Hopefully people take you up on your generosity. I'd rather they have these kits and have them gather dust than them needing one and not having it."

First he reminds her of the genocide, and now so aptly of her recent attacks. She rubs in irritation at a spot on her neck as unmarred as the rest of her, but quickly drops it away to begin re-arranging the cookies.

"All was not terror, there. I knew love just as well as I knew loss."

She looks back to him, a glance over her shoulder with a ghost of a smile.

"Twas there where I learned that even when it seems hopeless, there are still those who seek to remind of pleasure and selfless charity, and that we are stronger as one. All need food, drink, health, and spiritual nourishment."

"Now that's a good way to be thinking." Especially since Leonard does feel that way, but he's absolutely awful at expressing himself beyond yelling and complaining. His bedside manner needs a lot of work, for starters.

As for the spiritual nourishment, he could take or leave it, but far be it for him to tell a lady what type of aid to give someone in need.

"I'm one of the doctors in the infirmary, if you haven't guessed already. Leonard McCoy." He nods his head at her again, not sure how she'd prefer to be greeted. Were handshakes a thing where she was from?

Scottish, but certainly not sounding so. She's grown used to this with future times.

To be friends with a doctor at all is always something to be pursued. Having already grown fond of Beverly, she can only think it good luck to further find more aid. Just as her world can never have too many artists, nor can there be too many soldiers or doctors.

Stepping even closer, quickly sizing him up with a glance and a smile more cheeky in it's presentation, she offers her right hand, and flicks out her skirt with her other, knees dipping just slightly.

"I am Anne Boleyn, and ever am I graced to meet you, Doctor. I am already indebted with my life and my prayers to your clinic and the most brilliant and dearly honored Doctor Crusher."

He takes her hand, guessing he's meant to just hold it, or maybe bow over it a little. So he does just that. It's the name that throws him. In this place, anyone who's alone without people who personally know them from home can claim to be anybody. And if she's a contemporary of Anne's from before she got the ax (or was it a sword? Leonard doesn't know English history that well), then he can see a woman in her position trying to get extra benefits from imitating a queen. And if by chance she is really Anne Boleyn, it's not like he's going to fill her in on what happens to her. Who wants that albatross around their neck?

"Glad to hear she could help you. She's a friend of mine." Take note, Anne. He doesn't have many.

"What should I call you? It's pretty clear you're from a much earlier time than I am, but my mother still told me to mind my manners around a lady." He's Southern, and they take their manners seriously.

"I think your mother a wise woman, then," she has to laugh out as she touches his arm briefly in an easily shared affection before she slowly shakes her head, smile more subdued with a headier tone.

"Lady Anne or Mistress Boleyn would be the most proper, but I have grown accustom to the ways of other times and kingdoms. I am no lady of great standing in my own right, so I have no quarrel with what you may choose to call me; Though I pray, whatever it is, to be offered fondly."

Well, that seems to suggest she's not queen yet. At least he knows now not to slip and call her Your Majesty or Your Highness. Leonard McCoy: Not an expert on titles.

"Hey, you're already on my good side to be out here in the sun, waiting to help people out when they come by."

Daring to break the ladylike throw with a roll of her eyes and a nod, Anne's head tilts as she fans herself with one hand, which does...a good lot of nothing. It's bad enough that she must be covered in layers, but also to have chosen black, she must truly endeavor to suffer. But she is one to feel that a good cause is worth bearing discomfort or pain for.

Though she made this dress as breathable as she could, with what was offered, there's only so much to do.

"Truly, it is not a constant heat as I have ever before known. What of your home? Is it any such like?"

"In the summer it can be. I don't know if you're heard of America? I'm from the Southern part and it's always warmer there." He nods at her dress, brows knitting together with rarely displayed concern.

"Don't go overextending yourself, all right? If you keep drinking water and get in some shade every half hour, you should be fine. Though you should probably have sunscreen on if you don't already."

It's not a new arrival who comes to Anne'a feast, but Eponine. She had watched Anne 's preparations from the shadows, licking her lips as she saw pies being set out. She might have enough to eat here in this strange land, but she couldn't help looking in wonder and envy at Anne's gown and the pretty feast . It was a proper lady's feast and Eponine didn't think she'd ever be invited, not in her ragged shirt and too- big trousers .

So she would invite herself . As soon as Anne turned away, Eponine ran forward and helped herself to a piece of fruit pie .

While the quickness might normally have caught Anne unawares, with her recent attack, her nerves are still on edge, and any movement in her peripheral, or the sound of hurried footsteps however slight, is enough nearly to make her jump. She spins quickly, one hand outstretched as if to knock away a would-be attacker, a rather martial move for a lady of her stature.

But then she has been trained. And fortunately so, for the reflexes are also enough to stop her before she actually strikes, watching with confusion to see it's just a girl, and a girl reaching for food at that. Why the sneaky behavior, then?

"Poor dame, forgive me for my start. I thought you a thief." Or worse, really, but she won't accuse the girl of murder.

Eponine looks back, wide eyed, alarmed at being caught before she could even taste. She drops the pie hastily, and wipes her fingers on her pants.

"I've not took nothing, Madame. I'm no thief." Not today, anyway.
"Don't report me, will you, Madame? Go on, leave me be. I shan't bother you, I promise."

Perhaps it is that not everybody are so kind as Peeta or Newt? She smiles a tight, regretful smile, and goes to walk away.

Oh, well that's a tragic waste of pie. She'll have to clean that up now, too, but that will have to come later. Right now the girl in her own sort of panic seems to call more attention. It says something, as her clothing wouldn't call any attention on its own.

"Wait."

But the bedraggled look is not something Anne shies away from. She is a strong voice for charity and education, and this young lady right here, looks like in dire need of both. In so much, as Anne actually reaches out to grab her arm so she doesn't leave.

"You cannot steal what is yours already. Please, whatever you can get your hands upon, it is yours alone. That is why I have so arranged this for the needy and lost. Are you lost?"

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{OPEN} ♔ they call her the black crow

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