Ok, so a couple of quick notes for the Schwartz.
Clothing: Clothing here is Baroque-ish. There were some fashions, I'm sorry to say for the period, that I refused to put any of them into, no matter how accurate that would leave the story. I know almost nothing about the technical names of period clothing, and since I studied mostly history and less of clothing (sadly, there was no room…:sniff:) I'm almost certain that I've gotten something wrong. If it really bothers you, let me know.
Crawford is dressed a bit more old-fashioned, as I tried to envision what might have been considered a classic or conservative look. So he's in a puritan-type suit. Eh….yeah….
Also, a casaque (French I believe) is a military coat that is actually the origin of the modern jacket. It had several slits cut into it for riding and so that one could use one's hands freely without having to throw the cloak open wide. As I understand it, they became quite popular.
Finally, whether good or bad, Schwartz are humans. I don't think they're all fluff and goodness, but they have to have motivations. I don't like the way that Koyasu just leaves that out most of the time to make them look inhuman. Bottom line, they are human, and behave as such. They also are bound to interact with each other on a routine basis considering they're always together. Guessing at how they behaved when out of the public eye was pretty hard. I hope this came out alright. They may be the bad guys, but that's one of the things that's so cool about them. Why are they the bad guys?
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"The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door."
Alfred Noyes, The Highway Man
Edo
Bradley Crawford sighed in agitation and fidgeted with his lace collar. Again. For the umpteenth time that hour, despite the fact that it sloped over his shoulders in modest and perfect Puritanical fashion. Schuldig watched him through half-lidded eyes, sprawling lazily on a near by settee. One that he'd insisted on importing. Crawford could not have blamed him. He liked sitting on the floor even less perhaps. It was not becoming of a gentleman. Thankfully, he had retained a velvet-cushioned armchair and a small writing table for his work. Behind him, he heard Schuldig exhale a mouth full of smoke.
"Really Brad. You've been messing with that bloody collar for the past fifteen minutes. If it troubles you so, then take it off. You're starting to aggravate me." he drawled lazily. Crawford whirled away from the dingy looking-glass and glared at him balefully.
"It is respectable and neat. I will not take it off." he ground out. Schuldig just laughed. Decked out in the height of French court fashion, he stood in stark contrast to Crawford's own simple white outfit.
Where Crawford wore a simple, jacquard, sober, and white material, Schuldig had gone all out. He wore a heavily embroidered green waistcoat that matched his eyes and somehow complemented his hair. It flared fully at the bottom. His petticoat breeches were rather wide and elaborate, a green to match his coat and vest, although they were not embroidered. They were instead of heavy velvet. His stockings were at least white, although they were held up by black satin garters, tied into large, elaborate bows, which matched those at the elbow and cuff of his three quarter sleeve jacket. The white silk shirt he wore was one of the fullest Crawford had ever seen, and it practically billowed out of his jacket sleeves and out from beneath his vest. The vest was also green and had been embroidered heavily to match the jacket. At his neck was an elaborate ruff of lace, which did nothing to detract from the large black hat topped with green and black ostrich plumes, and yet another large satin black bow. Schuldig carried an elaborate cane, his fingers bedecked in so many rings Crawford had lost count. To top off all of the incredulous frippery, Schuldig's high-heeled black shoes also sported large and elaborate black bows.
He looked, to Crawford's mind, utterly ridiculous. Crawford had never been able to understand the height of men's fashion; especially the French court variety. Reading his thoughts, Schuldig laughed harder. Crawford snorted.
"How do you even move beneath all of that ridiculous fluff?" he grumbled, turning back to the dingy looking-glass to fuss now with the modest lace hanging from his full length coat sleeves.
Schuldig inhaled another mouthful of smoke from his pipe and let it roll from his mouth lazily after a moment. A sly grin slid up one corner of his mouth. "How do you move beneath all that starch? Honestly, you might have had those damn clothes cut from steel." He shot back. "If you were any stiffer, I suspect I'd have to have you sent to a museum to be put on display." Crawford glared hard at the looking-glass where he could just make out Schuldig's reposing form. He sighed and shook his head.
"I'd really prefer it if you wouldn't dress so when we meet with Takatori or Esstet." he grumbled. Schuldig snorted, the sound dry and devoid of humor.
"I do it to get a rise out of them. What's life if you can't have a little fun, I always say. You should hear the things they think of when they see me. They're quite amusing. They never know what to make of it." Crawford shook his head.
"One of these days Schuldig, you're going to wind up with a real ear-full. Esstet will not be happy you are so obviously drawing attention to yourself." Schuldig shrugged.
"I draw attention to myself just by being here. I'd get the same effect if I wore a damn kimono. Besides, at least I dress with more taste than Farferello." Crawford cringed mentally at the mention of Farferello.
"What is he wearing tonight, by the way?" Schuldig's grin came back full force.
"Not to worry, Heir Crawford. I've managed to convince him that dressing decently hurts God. Although it took quite a bit of convincing. You owe me. He's wearing one of my…more fashionable outfits." Schuldig trailed off, snickering.
"Schuldig, you didn't. Why the hell don't I ever see these sorts of things coming?" he groaned.
"Relax Bradley. It's just a pair of loose-cut breeches and a full shirt. I even managed to get a proper vest on him, although he refuses to tie up the shirt. And he refuses to wear shoes or stockings." Schuldig finished with a frown, as if he couldn't comprehend why Farferello wouldn't want to in the first place. Crawford sighed and shook his head.
"I suppose that's all we can hope for then. Nagi?"
"He wears what he always wears. It isn't even the height of Japanese fashion. You'd think Esstet would provide the kid with clothes that fit him. Although he could just be wearing them large on purpose. Standing next to the foreigners, I don't think it's going to matter. " Schuldig finished with a grin. Crawford just shook his head.
"Right then." he snapped his coat cuffs into place rigidly. "Let's get going."
Schuldig rose fluidly from the settee in one motion, moving like a panther towards where his casaque hung. He left his pipe on the table after dumping the still smoldering ash in a small iron pot. They donned their mantles and headed out into the darkness of the hall, Schuldig whistling merrily and tapping his cane with each step while Crawford tried to bank his irritation. He failed miserably as his thumb and forefinger came up to the bridge of his nose. Schuldig grinned at him sideways. They came to Nagi and Farferello's room and Schuldig knocked with the knob on the top of his cane cheekily. Farferello opened the door grinning wildly and looking disheveled.
Oh yes, Crawford thought, it was going to be a long night. Schuldig's soft chuckle in his mind only made the foreboding worse.
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They arrived fifteen minutes early and were shown into a room with zabuton, a low table, and a tatami floor. When a servant entered offering sake, Schuldig took him up on it immediately, and finished nearly half a bottle in ten minutes. Crawford only wished he could do the same. Nagi sulked in a corner quietly while Farferello sat staring in intense fascination at the table top; unblinking and unmoving. When they were finally called in, Schuldig had to drag him to his feet and down the corridor until he got the picture and began walking on his own, albeit as if all the bones had been taken out of his body. Crawford wasn't even going to try to comprehend.
He refused to kneel in front of the door when knocking, and neither did the rest of Schwartz. Although Crawford was slightly surprised that Nagi hadn't done so. They were admitted by a sober, flat voice, and Nagi slid the door shut once they were all inside. Reluctantly, they knelt on the zabuton in front of a long, narrow table. They knelt stiffly, the layers of starched and perfectly ordered clothing hampering their movements. With of course, Farferello and Nagi being the exceptions. The table was covered with various traditional dishes that looked very strange to Crawford, and for once he agreed with Schuldig's rambling inside his brain. The German, apparently, was quite sick of eating strange foods. Crawford stared silently at the two old men and one old woman who sat across from him, serene expressions firmly in place. Schwartz knew far better than to trust those expressions.
"Takatori grows close to gaining greater power and influence for the Shogunate. He has been quite useful to us. What news do you bring us of his affairs?" one old man said genially, his voice belying the razor-sharp mind behind it.
"He has eliminated the village. He has also decided to keep Kouichirou on as an assistant. Currently, he has become quite arrogant and pleased with his success." Crawford bit out crisply.
"Let him be pleased for now. He knows nothing of the future. He is but one small part of the whole. Is there anything else to report?" Crawford simply shook his head.
"And how are all of you finding this splendid country?" the old woman asked, smiling in a patronizing manner. Crawford felt more than saw Schuldig's lips curve up into a malicious sneer, but the man kept even a mental retort from his mind, to Crawford's relief.
"We find it quite fascinating." he answered simply.
"Very good. Are you hungry?" Regardless of whether they were hungry or not, Crawford knew they were going to have to eat anyway.
"I'm sure we are hungry enough to try some of this impressive banquet you've laid out for us. Please allow me to express gratitude on our behalf."
"It is not necessary. Please enjoy yourselves. You will excuse us." It was not a request, it was a command, and Schwartz rose as one as the council of elders left the room. Once they were gone the tension in the air seemed to ease.
Che…I find Japan as 'one small part of the whole', and a completely unappealing one at that. Schuldig growled mentally. How the hell do you put up with this crap Crawford? Crawford smiled grimly.
Quite easily. Just remember what other plans we have in place. We won't have to do this for much longer you know.
Ahh yes. I suppose that's a decent consolation, but still… Crawford could feel Schuldig's pout echoing across his mind and the grim smile widened.
Soon, Schuldig, very soon.
Did you know they have sea monster tentacles on this table? came Farferello's curious mental voice. Can we eat really them?
They're octopus tentacles, you moron. came Nagi's mental retort. The boy sounded rather insulted. Of course you can eat them. Crawford, when this is all finished, I don't ever want to share a room with him again.
Crawford sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation once more.
We could share some tentacles instead… came Farferello's hopeful reply. Nagi just snorted.
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Wow. Is Farf hard to write or what? I wish I had some mental ingenious so I could play with his character. But sadly, I don't really have enough brain power or brilliance to write for an insane man. Such a shame. It could really be so much fun…
Ok, sorry so short, but this was only designed to be a brief interlude for introduction. A bath scene is next between Ran and Ken….hehehe