I'LL BE A FOOL (Percy, Mystic)

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[atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=width: 450px; background-color: ffffff; text-align:center; padding: 8px; line-height: 10px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; color: 000000;][style=background-image:url(http://oi45.tinypic.com/2m2xbnr.jpg); width: 150px; height: 151px; float: left;] HOW COULD YOU LET ME LOVE LIKE THIS? NO ONE DIES UPON A KISS ONLY FOOLS BELIEVE IN BLISS This was the side of France that its once-favored daughter, famous actress Marguerite St. Just, had fallen in love with: the passion, the excitement! It was everywhere on the streets as the crowds gathered to see what the street fair had to offer. There were performances happening, people dancing and singing by the May Pole - "You would much better make an exhibition of yourself there than at the ball tonight," she had commented to Percy, knowing that he would do much the same at any party that they attended, and it would be better for him to get it out of his system now than at the masquerade ball later... though at least then he would be wearing a mask and no one would know who he was! That she teased him, of course, was only a sign of her good mood and good health. There was also a flower stand, though Marguerite knew it would be useless to try to convince Percy to buy her some, as he would just say something about how unfashionable it was to buy one's own wife flowers. The thought made her huff. In spite of this, however, she was in excellent spirits; the morning sickness of her pregnancy had finally subsided, and she was enjoying the day. She was dressed in a simple gown, much less elaborate than the one into which she'd change for the evening's masquerade, because they were walking the streets and there was a certain possibility of getting dirty with so many people and animals in the area. As they were walking, something else caught her eye - the stand of the mystic. Although she did not consider herself particularly superstitious, it did interest her - even if what the mystic said was untrue, perhaps it could gall Percy into admitting something, and she was mightily curious about what his plans were here in France. She was certain that they had something to do with the Pimpernel, but deeper than that, she knew not. "Oh, Percy, do let's go see what she has to say," she wheedled, leaning against him and giving him her most convincing face, blue eyes wide. "Perhaps she'll be able to tell you the results of your next game of hazards with Andrew," she thought to add cheekily; they both knew that Percy was here for more than a silly game.

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[SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]477 WORDS FOR MARGO I'll get the mystic reply up soon <3 DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] The arduous task’s husbands had to endure to keep their wives happy. Percy found himself strolling down some Frenchie street with his wife. It was mayday, which meant the entire city of Paris was celebrating, and everyone was in high spirits. Percy had been up since six, assembling information checking one of the closer ‘safe houses’ and of course spending time dressing. A man was not a man if his cravat and hat were not up to scratch. Percy and Margo had received their invitation to Kings Ball earlier in the week. The event would certainly be interesting and Percy was greatly looking forward to sinking his teeth into the task of gaining some information during the ball. Percy followed Margo’s gaze towards the maypole, ‘Sink Me! Me dear, I have an important role to play! How could I deprive the Frenchies of Sir Percy! Would be a mighty shame wouldn’t it me dear?’ Percy said jovially, peering through his monocle at the maypole. Percy knew Margo often liked to tease him about his alter ego Sir Percy, but when it came down to it, she was always there ready to play alongside him. Percy would be lying if he said Sir Percy was merely a character he played; really Sir Percy was an extension of himself. He was vain, especially when it came to his reputation, he would do all he could to keep it in tact. Percy glanced at Margo, she was truly radiant and Percy couldn’t help but slip his hand into hers, regardless of how unfashionable it might seem. He was probably the only man in Paris who was in love with his wife and not another man’s wife. Percy’s eyes were drawn from his wife as she pointed out a rather frivolous looking tent. It was a mystic offering to tell peoples fortunes. Percy had no belief in such things. He understood the tricks and methods such people used in order to give reasonably accurate readings. He did not mind humouring his wife though; after all he was a martyr to such things. ‘If you insist Madame, although I must declare that such readings are nothing more than guesswork and storytelling. You may perhaps be able to relate to this.’ Percy said in regards to his wife’s former career. Percy followed Margo into the tent responding to her comment about Andrew with great pride, ‘I don’t need no mystic to predict that game, Andrew hasn’t quite got the skill when it comes to Hazard. Poor man should give up the game before I make a pauper outta him.’ There was only one stool and Percy waited for Margo to be seated before he took up a standing position by her. ‘Go on then me dear’ he said as the Mystic asked for a question, ‘what would you like to know?’ he asked. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

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[atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=width: 450px; background-color: ffffff; text-align:center; padding: 8px; line-height: 10px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; color: 000000;][style=background-image:url(http://oi45.tinypic.com/2m2xbnr.jpg); width: 150px; height: 151px; float: left;] HOW COULD YOU LET ME LOVE LIKE THIS? NO ONE DIES UPON A KISS ONLY FOOLS BELIEVE IN BLISS As irritatingly self-important as Percy could be, Marguerite still somehow found it endearing. Sometimes, anyway. “An important role,” she repeated dryly – as if he were only acting! She believed that he enjoyed this little part more than he let on; it wasn't just acting, it was part of him. “The only shame is that you don't get paid for this acting gig, and I have to pay for it with my own shame.” Of course she wasn't really ashamed to be married to him – knowing that he was not really a fop, knowing that he was the Scarlet Pimpernel. Of course, she paid for that in fear and sometimes in tending to his injuries. She could only pray she would not have to do so tonight. It was easy to feel reassured, however, when he held her hand. No sly comment about that. She simply turned her head away, smiling to herself so that he wouldn't see. That, of course, was how she saw the mystic's tent. “Oh, come, Percy. It may be foolishness, but that's certainly something to which you can relate.” She smirked. True, the lady may only be acting, but Percy wore a mask as well, as she had just pointed out. One that was beginning to mold to his face, now that they were back in France and he had to carefully keep up his guise. “I suppose we'll find out eventually whether she was right.” His comment about the game made her snort. “Really, Percy, you are insufferable,” she laughed, hardly sounding frustrated as her words might suggest. The ease of his mention of hazard, as if it were a real game he was playing, made her believe, just for one moment, that he was actually playing hazards, and not hazarding his own life in something much more serious. Though he acted sometimes in a way that could drive her absolutely mad, he still played the gentleman, and she appreciated that about him. It made up for all of the times that he was claimed doing anything nice for her would be “unfashionable.” Of course, he only did that because he was afraid that she might actually think he had some sincerity of feeling. The thought made her sigh inwardly. He had shown himself to her, all of himself, on occasion, and what fine occasions those were. He had told her that his life was hers, and sometimes, she was foolish enough to believe him. She was still holding his hand, and unconsciously, she held it a little bit more tightly as she looked to the mystic. Having his go-ahead was all the encouragement she needed. “What does the future hold for us?” she asked simply, offering a smile to the woman. Undoubtedly she would not say unless they gave her some money, so she glanced away from the gypsy and towards her husband once more, offering him a tentative smile. She could have asked more specifically, but she wasn't sure she was ready to do that. Maybe she wanted to know for her own comfort, even if the woman was only going to tell her lies.

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[LA MORT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i56.tinypic.com/20gfl1v.jpg); padding: 30px; border: #2D2729 solid 30px; ] THE MYSTIC INSIDE THE MYSTICS TENT The Mystic observed the couple for a moment, before she turned her eyes on the cards she had drawn. She was quiet for a moment as she read each card, her hand hovering over them for a moment, before her eyes snapped open and she gazed at the couple. ‘The first card is the King of Swords. A dark haired man with a forceful energy, you must accept him as he is, however do not let him mistreat you. The second card is the wheel of fortune…the wheel suggests that resisting changes could be bad for your health. Do what you can to keep those stress levels down; don’t forget the basic’s when it comes to your health.’ The mystic paused for a moment, looking at the wheel of fortune card intently, ‘the card is also telling me that a change of circumstances in your relationship will need something’s in your life to be re-evaluated.’ She said, turning to look at the final card. ‘The seven of cups…Reversed. This card suggests that you are making choices that must be made and moving forward positively. Trust your instincts, but beware of someone in your life who may be making choices to hinder you.’ She said pausing, ‘your future depends on the choices you make in the near future. Trust your instincts and your futures happiness will be plentiful.’ The mystic said in conclusion to her reading. MAY DAY!

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TEMPLATE BY TRINITY BLAIR @ CAUTION 2.0 & ATF

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[atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=width: 450px; background-color: ffffff; text-align:center; padding: 8px; line-height: 10px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; color: 000000;][style=background-image:url(http://oi45.tinypic.com/2m2xbnr.jpg); width: 150px; height: 151px; float: left;] HOW COULD YOU LET ME LOVE LIKE THIS? NO ONE DIES UPON A KISS ONLY FOOLS BELIEVE IN BLISS As the mystic looked at them, Margo shifted in her seat uncomfortably, wondering what the woman would have to tell them. She wasn't certain how seriously to take these sorts of things, but it couldn't hurt. In her youth, she had always been the life of the party, the fun-loving actress who tried new things and engaged everyone. Perhaps the spirit of the day was reviving that side of her – the side of her that sometimes emerged at parties with Percy, if he wasn't getting himself into too much trouble, of course. Still, as much as she was looking forward to hearing her fortune, she stayed quiet through the whole thing before making any comments; she didn't want to be rude to the Mystic. Not that doing so would change their fortune – at least, she didn't think so – but she would probably have to smooth things over with Percy if he said anything untoward, so at least one of them had to be benevolent and behaved! As soon as the Mystic had finished, Margo tried to remember everything that had been said, and gave a nod and said “Merci.” Then she turned to Percy. “A dark-haired man? That must be you,” she said with a smirk and a raise of her eyebrows. “Though I think you no better than to think you can mistreat me.” Even though their playful banter was almost constant, they did have moments of sincerity and pure, unadulterated love, and she knew that most of his teasing was not serious. They really did care for one another. She was less able to make something humorous out of changes that could be bad for her health, or a change in their relationship. In fact, when the Mystic had said that, she had paled slightly, and her heart rate had increased both in nervousness and excitement. Those were only general statements, but she could not help but think that they referred to her unborn baby. “Perhaps you are playing too many Percy,” she murmured. “I can't think that it is quite healthy.” She stood, hesitating for a moment, and forced a smile. “Well. My instincts say we should buy something to eat. Come, Percy; do not hinder me, and happiness will follow.”

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