Fidelity Fiduciary Bank

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Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by shahmat on Sept 26, 2011, 12:28am

((Mary Poppins? Anyone? Anyone?))

The bank did not make as much of an impression on Henry Foster as its designer would have hoped. Hunt and Velloise had a lobby full of rich red drapes and gilded gold clocks above the desks. It was meant to inspire awe and denote wealth and grace, but Henry Foster had had enough of those things already for one day, and was never particularly sensitive to them in the first place. There was only one man, if he could be rightfully called that, at a marble and mahogany desk along the back wall. Foster glanced about for other cashiers in the vain hope that he would not be forced to talk to the thing, but, in the late evening, no wealthy individuals were frequenting the establishment, and it was clear that the back desk was intended to be his destination. Regrettable.

The powdered curls, the rouged and powdered face, the utterly ludicrous beauty mark... The man had to be some sort of joke, a humorous farce on the grandeur of the bank. Henry Foster limped across the open space in mild frustration, then paused a moment, fiddling with the signet ring that seemed to be weighing down his hand immensely. Somehow, showing the ring, exerting his newfound influence, felt like more of a commitment than accepting the position.

There was nothing for it, though. Being the Archduke's hand would further his research and allow him to monitor Hilbert's actions. He couldn't decline. "Excuse me." His voice was curt and sharp when he spoke, bearing no signs of hesitance. "I'm looking for a Bearnaise Ponywhistle."

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by Saint-Just on Sept 26, 2011, 4:17pm

"I saye!" Thundered the powdered abomination behind the counter, wig shivering as if independently sentient. "You mean to saye that you're looeking for the Bearnaise Ponehwhistle." The enunciation of each word was... curious. If it were possible to declare a man's tongue foppish in and of itself, such was the case in this curious being. Gazing down at Foster from his elevated platform like some great poncey tree, Ponywhistle held a quizzing glass before his monocle, no doubt to enable the most supreme scrutiny conceivable by man, if man he was. "Looket thisss one, with it'sss pretteh mouth and decourative-chiena-case eyes! Monsieur teacups, parteh of one. Tell Bearnaise what isss wanted!"

The few clerks milling about in the lobby barely acknowledged this raucous display of flamboyance, suggesting that Master Ponywhistle was by no means a recent installation, and simply a part of the job.

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by shahmat on Sept 26, 2011, 7:09pm

Foster looked alarmed. "Excuse me?" he repeated, then his intellect kicked in and translated the babble. He stepped back slightly and very awkwardly as his bad leg, weak as always after one of its painful attacks, wasn't working well. An effort of pure will was required to overcome the feeling that he didn't want ANYTHING from Bearnaise Ponywhistle. "...I... would like to withdraw some funds." The scientist lifted his chin to fix the monstrosity of a clerk with a stern glare as he slid the ring off of his finger and set on the high counter.

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by Saint-Just on Sept 27, 2011, 10:21am

"Withdraw some fun, you saye?! Oh my, I woulde rather make a deposit, meh boy!" Every syllable rang with the jingling of coins, precious metals clinking raucously against one another in a song appealing only to the lowest breed of human, that is to say, the human whose profession involves the handling of another man's funds. Ponywhistle very clearly wished to handle Foster's funds, in a manner of speaking, and the proffering of the Archduke's precious ring was received with such a flamboyant quivering of wig and man alike that the myriad spangles scattered about the fop's person violently struck the counter, scattering papers in all directions. He took no notice.

"Gad's hookess, m'boye, could it be... could you be confessing your spontaeneousss and nighe infinite love for Bearnaise Ponehwhistle? Goode gracious me, you do have a certain je ne sais quoi, and such dazzling eyhes... very well, I accept! Give us a kisse!"

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by shahmat on Sept 27, 2011, 12:44pm

Henry Foster took such an instinctive step back that he ignored which leg took the initiative. "Good god, man!" he snapped. "Have you no respect? That is the signet ring of Archduke Sa--" The sudden transfer of weight to his crippled limb caused such a shock of pain that it interrupted him mid-sentence with a strangled, animal sound. It knocked the breath entirely out of him, then gave way, and he fell hard and humiliatingly to the marble-tiled floor, choking for air. "Son of a whore! Goddamn poncey--" he coughed out furiously, "...damn bloody leg, I swear I'll..."

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by Saint-Just on Sept 29, 2011, 5:17pm

Body tensing as if in readiness to leap over the counter upon the tragically vulnerable Foster, Ponywhistle’s tongue played over his painted lips hungrily. Just as he seemed on the verge of pouncing his eyes happened to fall upon the ring, temporarily forgotten in the chaos, the Archducal signet registering for the first time in his mind as something significant. At once his demeanor shifted from murderously playfully to haughty, almost petulant, Ponywhistle’s mighty powdered head tilting back to afford him the most disdainful perspective from which to regard Foster.

“I see. Of couerse you did not wish to propoese to poore Bearnaise. Gad forbid anyone take notice of poore Ponehwhistle in his labours! No, no, that man onleh cares about ‘the fête of humaniteh’ or some such... is Bearnaise invited to that fête? No!” Each syllable was sharpened to an almost palpable edge, the verbal daggers coated in the most virulent of venoms. “So you, Monsieur Teacups, you came to rub the nose of Ponywhistle in your pretteh little friendship with that man? Fiene!” Producing a silken pouch embroidered with golden thread from the voluptuous folds of his coat, Bearnaise proceeded to flick handfuls of the glittering powder contained therein at the hapless form of Foster, a look of laughably melodramatic fury upon his face. “You’ll be needing glitter for His royale coterie, won’t you? Eh? Eh? The devil’s beard is spaengled, but apparentleh Bearnaise isn’t shineh enough to be woeven in!”

Still passionately hurtling gobs of shimmering confetti at poor Foster, Bearnaise was eventually restrained by two sharply dressed yet hopelessly forgettable men, a third snatching the offending pouch from his hands and tutting disapprovingly. Having been scolded and deprived of his weapon, the monstrous banker soon settled down, though his wig still seemed to vibrate with malignancy.

“...Sorreh, sorreh... that man is alwaysss picking on unfortuenate Bearnaise... but Monsieur Teacups isn’t at fault, eh? Monsieur Teacups isss just being a goode boye, serving his countreh, isn’t it? Have your shineh bauble back; Bearnaise Ponehwhistle is at your service.”

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by shahmat on Sept 29, 2011, 11:13pm

Foster remained on the floor, coated in shimmering gold glitter and so utterly shocked and bewildered that he wasn't entirely certain this whole day was real. Perhaps he had dreamed it, starting with the letter from the Archduke and encompassing everything onward, but... No. No, because his mind could never have conceived of the utter insanity that was Bearnaise Ponywhistle. The scientist couldn't imagine why he was allowed to roam the streets, much less trusted with any position of esteem-- or any position that required interaction with people.

"What?" he managed at length, utterly bemused. The farce of a tantrum had been weirdly unreal to Foster. Even once it was over, it felt as though it must have been imagined, and the pain had removed him even further from the scene, into a sort of daze. He remained on the floor and made a hesitant motion to brush some of the glitter off of himself. "I... What?" The only response that came to mind was a rather annoyed, "I'm not here out of loyalty to Durant..." He realized what an absurd thing that was to fixate on, out of that interlude. Perhaps it was all his mind could process.

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by Saint-Just on Oct 6, 2011, 7:17pm

“Silleh boey, no one caeres whyeh you appeare! What do you-“

As was often the case, Bearnaise Ponywhistle was at last silenced by a sharp tap upon his opulent shoulder by an ivory-gloved hand. The being to whom the appendage belonged was a slight, genteel woman in her late thirties, if looks were to be given credence, with a quantity of straight dark hair falling about her shoulders. Her dress, more suited to a nursemaid than a lady of fashion, extended from it’s modestly ruffled neck to the polished floor, only the pointed tips of her shoes visible beyond the olive folds. It was, in spite its austerity, a handsomely fitted affair, elevated by the grace of its wearer much as otherwise splendiferous outfits are so often tainted by the homeliness of their proud owners. Beneath the uniformly straight black bangs terminating just above her delicate brows were round eyes of pale green, washed out somewhat by the surpassing pallor of the woman’s skin. A smattering of adroitly applied eye shadow of sienna-tinged green remedied this chromatic conundrum.

“Mistressss Velloise.” Ponywhistle’s gaiety had departed, replaced by a species of snippiness far more subdued than that which produced the earlier glitter assault.

“Must you assault every patron, Polliprance?” purred Velloise, sliding a ringed hand across the nape of Ponywhistle’s neck. He behaved as one who has been burnt, jerking violently to the side and cutting his eyes petulantly at his antagonizer.

“I wasss just making friends!” he muttered, huffily retiring through a gilded door to parts unknown. Presumably it was a clerk’s lounge of some sort, yet knowing Ponywhistle it was entirely possible that a trampoline covered in feathers occupied the space. Let us assume that such is the case, and never speak of the matter again.

Clearly in no way interested in the previous thought, Velloise calmly made her way around the counter to tower above the supine Foster, extending her hand with the clear intent to assist the abundantly harried scientist. The object which had so offended Ponywhistle came into plain view. Unlike the chain of silver about her neck and the matching bangles shimmering upon her wrists, a signet ring not entirely unlike that of the Archduke resisted all contact with the light. If anything, the blighted thing seemed to grow more lackluster out of spite. Contrasting greatly with the dun ornament, the smile of Velloise cast warmth beyond measure upon its privileged recipient.

“I cannot begin to express my contrition, sir... please, forgive this banking house the eccentricity of its oldest employee.”

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by shahmat on Oct 8, 2011, 3:34am

Foster eyed her warily, then pushed himself laboriously to his feet without her assistance, breath hissing out through his teeth painfully. "Of course, madam," he offered on autopilot. "I was only hoping to withdraw some small sum for travel." He nodded in respectful acknowledgment and reached for the Archduke's signet ring where it still sat on the countertop, tilting the seal up at her a moment before returning it to his hand. This sort of person he could deal with, thank all the gods.

Re: Fidelity Fiduciary Bank Post by Saint-Just on Yesterday at 6:06pm

Unphased by the indirect rebuke of Foster, Velloise clasped her hands loosely over her abdomen with an air of casual authority. This was her house... it had always been her house. The Velloise family had constructed the palatial facility in the early days of High Durant, boring deep into the earth over the generations to make room for the ever expanding riches of the nation. There are persistent rumors that these excavations have brought the Velloise vaults into contact with the sprawling Durantian catacombs, though hordes of adventurous spelunkers have been unable to find any such points of congress. If they had, it is quite likely that Bearnaise Ponywhistle would have appeared at work the following day looking a touch heavier than usual.

Having glimpsed the Archducal signet, Velloise's lips flashed a knowing smile. "Yes, He sent a courier ahead of you. I have been apprised of the situation and am pleased to offer you unlimited credit on His Majesty's authority. You needn't worry yourself beyond that; the details are for the concern of clerks and their ledgers, not agents of the crown."