Changeless is the story of Roth's battle to find out who he is whilst in a realm unknown. Without knowing how, why, or when Roth arrived in his current situation, he's eager to find out the root of his existence. Unbeknownst to Roth the truth of his existence paired with the sands of time provide a grim reality of Roth's life. Written by Anonymous. Start your free trial. Find showtimes, watch trailers, browse photos, track your Watchlist and rate your favorite movies and TV shows on your phone or tablet!
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IMDb More. Keep track of everything you watch; tell your friends. Full Cast and Crew. Release Dates. Official Sites. Company Credits. Technical Specs. Plot Summary. Plot Keywords. Parents Guide. Angelique made her selection from the wardrobe: a military-inspired tea-colored affair trimmed in chocolate brown velvet and large brass buttons.
It was very smart and appropriate to a business meeting of the Shadow Council. Angelique was not one of those who knew Alexia Maccon sat as muhjah. Only a few loops and tendrils peeked out from under a small lace cap. There was no one to ask. No one waited at the dinner table; clavigers and pack alike had vanished along with the earl. The house was empty but for the servants. The Woolsey butler, Rumpet, refused, with an air of affronted dignity, to answer her questions.
Even Floote claimed to have been in the library all afternoon and overheard nothing. I depend upon you to know what is going on! You always do. Floote gave her a look that made her feel about seven years of age.
Despite graduating from butler to personal secretary, Floote had never quite lost his severe aura of butlerness. He handed Alexia her leather dispatch case. Alexia was finding herself, as muhjah, more and more reliant upon his opinion, if only to confirm her own. Floote considered. I suspect that it is too soon to release the scientists on their own recognizance.
I shall recommend against that particular clause. Thank you, Floote. I suspect research in the library may be called for when I return tonight. Best to clear your schedule. He glided off to summon her a carriage. Alexia finished her repast, gathered up her dispatch case, her latest parasol, and her long woolen coat, and wandered out the front door. Only to discover exactly where everyone had gone—outside onto the sweeping front lawn that led up to the cobbled courtyard of the castle. They had managed to multiply themselves, don attire of a military persuasion, and, for some reason known only to their tiny little werewolf brains, proceed to engage in setting up a considerable number of large canvas tents.
This involved the latest in government-issue self-expanding steam poles, boiled in large copper pots like so much metal pasta. Each one started out the size of a spyglass before the heat caused it to suddenly expand with a popping noise. As was the general military protocol, it took far more soldiers than it ought to stand around watching the poles boil, and when one expanded, a cheer erupted forth.
The pole was grasped between a set of leather potholders and taken off to a tent.
Tunstell came bouncing over, a handsome, if gangly, ginger fellow with a perpetual grin and a certain carelessness of manner that most found endearing and everybody else found exasperating. Tunstell was always chirpy. It was his greatest character flaw.
This was his second-greatest character flaw. Tunstell grinned. Tunstell was an actor of some note—everything he did was dramatic. There are no werewolf Alphas in England who can boast a pack of such proportions. Builds solidarity. At the disbanding of the Hypocras Club several months previous, a small compressed steam unit had been discovered. It apparently heated continually until it burst. Lord Maccon had shown it to his wife.
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Tunstell was unaware of this correlation or he might have proceeded with greater caution. On the other hand, being Tunstell, he might not. Lady Maccon whirled to glare at the man who dared to interrupt her midrant. Lord Maccon was Scottish-big; this gentleman was only English-big—there was a distinct difference. Also, unlike the earl, who periodically bumped into things as though his form were larger than his perception of it, this man seemed entirely comfortable with his size. He wore full officer formals and knew he looked good in them.
His boots were spit-shined, his blond hair coiffed high, and he boasted an accent that very carefully was no accent at all. Alexia knew the type: education, money, and blue blood. She gritted her teeth.
Well, not anymore. Have them remove those tents immediately. Alexia began to believe that he was no gentleman, despite his accent and immaculate appearance. She also noticed that he had the most cutting blue eyes, icy and intense. Tunstell turned to do her bidding but was stopped by the stranger, who put a large white-gloved hand on his shoulder. It is far more convenient than the grounds. Tunstell, less cheerful than she had ever seen him, was looking back and forth between her and the stranger.
Any moment now, he might place his hand upon his head and enact a swoon of confusion. Alexia gawked. No wonder he was so very full of himself. It is my domain. I was not informed that Lady Maccon had made any such drastic changes. Alexia was not surprised by this assumption. She was very well aware of the fact that she was not of the appearance others patently expected of a Lady Maccon, being too Italian, too old, and too, frankly, ample.
She was going to correct his error before further embarrassment ensued, but he did not provide her with the opportunity. Clearly Channing Channing of the Chesterfield Channings enjoyed the cadence of his own voice. I assure you, neither his lordship nor her ladyship will take you to task. Channing Channing of the Chesterfield Channings smiled his perfect smile and twinkled his blue eyes in a way Alexia was certain he believed to be alluring.
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Just you scamper off and get about your daily chores, and we shall see about a bit of a reward later for your obedience. Was that a leer? Alexia actually thought it might be. I always did fancy a bit of the foreign. Alexia, who was only half Italian, and that only by birth, having been raised English to the bone, could not decide which part of that sentence offended her most.
She sputtered. Everyone in the courtyard stopped what they were about and turned to look at the statuesque lady currently engaged in whacking their third in command, Woolsey Pack Gamma, commander of the Coldsteam Guards abroad, with a parasol. Werewolf, was he? She walloped him again, this time making certain the tip touched his skin.
At the same time, she rediscovered her powers of speech. He was a werewolf and, without her touching him and canceling out his supernatural abilities, practically impossible to damage.
Major Channing, shocked by a physical attack from an apparently defenseless housekeeper, shielded his head and then grabbed the parasol, using it to yank her toward him. Alexia lost her grip, and Major Channing stumbled back in possession of the accessory. He looked like he wanted to hit her back with it, which could have done Alexia some real damage, as she had no supernatural healing abilities at all.
But instead, he tossed the parasol aside and made as if to slap her. Which was when Tunstell leaped onto his back. The assembled newcomers gasped in horror. For a claviger to attack a member of the pack was unheard of and was grounds for instant expulsion. However, those of the pack and their companion clavigers who knew who Alexia was all dropped whatever they were doing and rushed forward to assist. Major Channing shook Tunstell off and backhanded him hard across the face. The strike sent Tunstell to the ground easily.
The claviger gave a loud groan and collapsed. Alexia gave the blond blackguard a glare of wrath and bent to check on the fallen redhead. His eyes were closed, but he appeared to be breathing. In the next second, he began to change. In polite company, this would have been shocking, but most everyone there had witnessed the event before. Over the decades since pack integration, the military had become as comfortable with werewolf change as they were with profanity.
But to change in front of a lady, even if one did think she was a housekeeper? Murmurs of alarm rippled through the crowd. Alexia was also surprised. It was only just nightfall, and it was nowhere near full moon. Which meant this man was older and more experienced than his brash behavior indicated. Antonyms: irregular , unsettled , unsteady , wavering , fluctuating , capricious , irresolute , vacillating , variable , mutable , plastic.
Princeton's WordNet 0. English Synonyms and Antonyms 0. Complete Dictionary of Synonyms and Antonyms 0. How to pronounce changeless? Alex US English. Daniel British. Karen Australian. Veena Indian. How to say changeless in sign language?