Long time Coming

Located on the edge of the Shambles (the roughest part of the Lower City), Betheine has recently moved to to her grandparent's one room dwelling, left to her after their death. It is currently in a state of disrepair, with cracked walls and beams but Betheine is trying to fix it.

Long time Coming

Róisín ni Ríagáin
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Joined: 23 Apr 2010, 16:11

06 Apr 2012, 21:20 #1

It had been months now since she'd last seen Grace and she was starting to worry. Roisin had spent a great deal of time lately forcing herself to believe that her dear friend was with Betheine or had found a place to lie-low whilst Alec vented but now she was not so sure. John had said he would give her back her posistion so long as she apologised but nobody had been able to find her to tell her so. She was beginning to think that she had simply left Camelot because any other fate would just be too horrible to think about.

She shuddered at the memory of Grace sobbing about the man she had been in love with, the man who had died back home and she was forced from her home because of. For a brief moment she had allowed herself to believe that Grace had died, it had sickened her to her stomach and she had; though she was humiliated at the thought of it, fainted. Catherine had revived her with a bucket of water and the Roisin was forced to invent some sickness that had caused the incident.

Enough was enough however. There was someone who cared for Grace's whereabouts as much as she did and it was the one person she had been seperated from since Bree's dramatic birth in their old shared room. Betheine, if she didn't know where Grace was, would surely help Roisin's attempts to track her down, that was their only shared interest and she hoped for both their sakes it would be enough to keep them from killing one another.

She scored the address from John, who had reluctantly passed it over and now she was on her way down the winding streets of the lower town. She had never been so far from the main square and she cringed away from the smells and the leers of the passing men. When finally she found the house she sought, she reached out and knocked loudly and then to make sure the door was opened because who knew if young women alone could answer the door to knocks in this part of town.

"Beth? Betheine is Roisin. I need to speak to you." A wrinkled face peered at her from the nearest house and she looked away, ashamed for unknown reasons.
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Betheine Greene
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Betheine Greene
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Joined: 30 Dec 2008, 18:24

16 Apr 2012, 20:31 #2

Betheine grinned languidly to herself at the memory of last night; clouded and muddled in ale but amusing nonetheless. Despite initial misgivings, her neighbours in the shambles seemed much more willing to accommodate her insatiable thirst for a drink and amusement, and had no qualms about sidling into the Talon and the Rising Sun with her. What with Carter seemingly vanished and a tentative friend now apparently an heir to his vast network, she had felt the relief rush through her blood and the with lift from her shoulders, and dammit if she wasn't going to celebrate. Even as her head rang as the blood thumped angrily across her temples and her mouth was parched this morning, she was in a good mood.

Of course it was ever thus that when a permanently pessimistic woman was finally seeing good things in life, something brought her crashing down to reality. Today it took a turn in the irritatingly Irish voice of Roísín wafting through her door. She took a moment, contemplating whether she should just ignore it. Anything the brunette wench had to say to her, surely she could say it at work? She groaned audibly and almost snuffed the candle that illuminated her little one room home before, with a growl of frustration, she strode to the door and yanked it across.

"Do you know what I have found out? The one thing that makes the ache in my head worse after a night drinking, is the irritating voice of an irishwoman." She narrowed her eyes and lent against the crumbling frame of the door, both not allowing her company entry, and reinforcing a steady distance between them. "What is it that you're so desperate about that you had to invade my own little corner of happiness away from the Arrow? Surely it could of waited?" She arched a brow, voice without emotion but stance gradually becoming more obviously irritated. "I have better things to do than stand around for you, so spit it out." Better things like lying down on her pallet in the cool darkness with a damp cloth across her forehead, cursing the day ale was invented.
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