Marn Restoration Gala - Ascension

[Jacel Varti]

Having unsuccessfully attempted to engage the upper class twits in conversation, Jacel was feeling a bit put out. Nobody here could take a joke, so what if it had involved incest? A bunch of stuck-up racist clowns with no respect for the art of comedy, that’s what they were. Jacel passed his cane to his left hand as he took a sip of wine, occasionally stopping to glare accusatorily over the rim.

As he moved to put the glass down, he heard a familiar voice. His face brightened almost immediately. Now here was a man who knew the value of humor. “Well well, the infamous Luca Abernathy!” He admired his young friend. Jacel certainly felt outclassed. His blue and white long coat could hardly be said to be as flattering as Luca’s glittering attire. Jacel whistled approvingly. “I’m guessing one of us gets to stick his dick somewhere nice before the evening is done, ey?”

It was a comment which caused a woman across a table to send a confused look at Jacel’s back. She blushed at the sight of Luca and quickly turned back, perhaps seeing Jacel’s point. The fat elf quickly set down his drink so that he could warmly clap Luca on the shoulder. After two such pats, Jacel continued, dropping his arm to his side. “

As for business, well, you know how that goes.” Jacel struggled to find a method by which he might tactfully describe dog fighting, but gave up quickly. He wasn’t having success with the other synevives and Luca wasn’t about to throw a fit. “Bitch keeps rippin’ on through em. Not the best for bets, I tell you that.” He waved his cane around for emphasis. “Otherwise my delightful little den of sin goes on giving sweet dreams! Hah! I’d love to see any of these talentless, icy bastards try to accomplish what we have, Luca.” He drew up his coat proudly, even though his girth prevented him from actually buttoning the front. He ruminated, mulling over his thoughts. “Ah, but perhaps it’s not my place to say. A bishan for your thoughts, Luca my boy.”

[Luca Abernathy]

Luca chuckled "Already the gala is saved from a boredom worse than death. As for those delightful carnal affairs, well, the evening soiree is set in a most comfortable kind of stone, my dear fellow. And the after party always requires a day of rest to follow." The dandy offered the blushing lady a half smile and a raised brow. Who was she again? Penelope something-or-other. One of those titre ladies who delighted in spending their wealthy husbands' money and who lamented the aforementioned's long hours spent accumulating it. Had he sent her an invite? Well, he could work that out later. Conrad had a better memory for such things, so long as Luca provided a suitably graphic description. If only the cad had consented to come as well, but the great big lug had gone into a sulk. Really, of all the times to protest his flirtations, he had to choose gala night.

The foppish nobleman patted Jacel on the shoulder in return and snagged a wine glass from a passing tray "Finally, company enjoyable enough to drink in. You know, you should really invest in some second-rate mutts. Something to keep the fights fresh, dontcha know? I mean, yes, of course the Bitch is the big draw. Seeing her take a lesser creature apart is quite the thrill. But it's the dark mutts which start to get the bishani flowing." Luca looked around "Did that blasted Vesurian provide enough seating? It would be just like her to make everyone stand. No, wait, there we are. Hold on a moment Jacel old bean, I have a cunning plan." Luca approached a table currently occupied by a vacant chair and one Eric Withcot, a young titre scion who had recently found himself flirting with Luca's circle of bon vivants. Luca clinked his glass against Eric's and smiled warmly at the lad "Eric my dear fellow! Do you mind if my old friend and I steal this spot? I have an utterly important task for you. I mean, deadly important, you know? Now listen, the very fate of the entire world is at stake here."

Eric nodded, trying to pretend he was in no way confused by Luca's waffle. Luca's smile broadened "Good show! Now, d'you see that absolutely smashing redhead over there? Yes, the one who just glanced our way. I would very much like you to walk up to her, as a proper young gallant, and say 'My lady, please permit me to introduce myself. I am Eric Withcot, a confidant of Luca Abernathy, and we wish to ensure you received your invitation to the soiree.' And then, my boy, charm her and your night may well be more splendid than you can imagine." Luca clapped Eric on the shoulder "Go on now, life is too short to not enjoy the finer women it has to offer. I'll see you later tonight." With the table and both of its chairs unoccupied, Luca waved Jacel over "Let the rabble stand like twits for that ridiculous pamphleteer. We gentlemen of leisure should not have to exert ourselves. Now, where were we? Ah yes. Your princely palace of pleasure, and how to get the regular punters punting more."

Luca carefully sprawled on his seat so as to achieve the appearance of absolute relaxation "So, old bean, I was thinking: what the hoi polloi just love is a bit of variety, and a chance to pretend they know everything. You know those dull folks who'll prattle on about the merits of one breed over another when all they ever had was a pet rabbit? Well, pander to those twits. Get some fresh talent in, build up a bit of excitement for the new dogs, and when people eventually get bored with a particular 'new champion hound', and start bettin' on them less, have a special sitting where the wretched thing gets to feel the Bitch's bite, eh? A private viewing for the discerning aficionados, or those who can pay enough to at least pretend they are. What d'you think, my dear fellow?"

[Metarie]

continued from here: Metarie goes to Kaledin Manor

Ree spent the day preparing for the Gala in one way or another. Her day started with the dress makers, one which she would never spend her money on, but apparently was so costly everyone wanted to wear the designer's apparel. The shop even did things such as hair, pedicures, shoes, and nails. Ree and the designer had heatedly discussed what he was going to put her in. The pair had agreed on something elegant and simple. The mark on the back of her neck remained hidden. Her hair had been left to fall in graceful waves down her back, but had been pulled up in the front to "accentuate her beautiful features," or so the designer had said. Her ears were obviously pointed in that way that elf ears are.

Make-up had been applied so artfully, she couldn't tell she was wearing any, yet... her eyes looked soulful, sultry, and exotic all in one go. How was that even possible? A stain had also been put on her lips to make the shape of them more noticeable, but again, in a way that was surprisingly beautiful.

She had to admit that when all was complete, she hardly recognized herself, yet did all at the same time. The designer had given her his personal attention and seemed thrilled to work on such an "exquisite model such as herself." The dress was snug, corseted across her midsection and accentuating her bosom. Her shoulders and arms were bare. Long gloves covered her hands and arms. The skirt of the dress was a column style, allowing her enough room to walk comfortably, yet idealizing her willowy build.

When Ree finally emerged from the designer's shop, it was nearly time to attend. The carriage had remained for her and was prepared to deliver her to the door of the Gala. Yet more fanfare she did not want, but she gave in because she had no other option.

So, Metarie Sehkhara arrived to the Gala in a carriage hosting the crest of Kaledin Manor. The conveyance and who arrived in it did not go unnoticed. How could it?

Ree felt naked without an escort, but kept her chin high. Cam was most likely required to work the event due to the people who would attend and what they stood for. Ree handed over her invite and made her way into the room. She carefully looked over all who attended, noting those she knew and those she did not.

What she had to say would be directed at any who supported Isyrion's disgusting cause.

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel chuckled at Luca’s flawless manipulation of his friend’s need for socialization. Jacel had seen like back when he himself was a young man in his twenties and thirties. Both he and the leaders of such little bands had employed similar tactics, exploiting the basic need for acceptance to gain an initial following only to later exploit the effort they had already put in. People didn’t like admitting all the hazing they had gone through was for naught.

Of course, Jacel reflected, Luca probably did not think of it in such direct terms as manipulation. Teonidus knew he hadn’t at that point. Watching the boy run off towards the girl as he accepted his seat, he rested his chin on his hand. He was smiling.

“You’re terrible.” He commented mirthfully, clearly loving every second. He wondered not for the first time how Luca would fare had he been dealt a different hand in life. With such talents, Jacel struggled to imagine his future as much of anything but bright. “And yet kind” He said, wincing as his knee gave him trouble. He would not have enjoyed standing throughout the speech.

Luca proceeded to further prove those talents through listing of a stable economic plan. Jacel chuckled, “You must be right. Listen to me having pandered to those cretins beneath even that level of understanding. I had assumed the draw was simply the money and violence in and of itself. The blood, my good man. Surely you’ve smelled it.” He nodded calmly, as if such was an entirely rational course of discussion. “Sweeter than the blood of a woman’s thighs, that’s the scent for me and my sort. But that don’t need to be the Bite’s only appeal.”

Jacel burst in hearty laughter, perhaps influenced by wine. He was in good cheer despite his inability to acquire any new rapport: Luca always had that effect on him. “I suppose it’s not really so different from your own efforts, now that I think about it.” Jacel elbowed Luca knowingly. “Some want substance-based lovin’, some want to know all about tiny gnome penis, eh?”

[Luca Abernathy]

Luca watched young Eric's initial momentum with bemused interest "Terrible? Yes, well, he does seem a tad overeager. That always tends to end in embarrassment, wot, no matter the context. The calm approach would have served him much better. Never mind, old bean, perhaps she'll find it adorable." Luca waved the entire dilemma away "I like to think I create opportunities. And if the lad has any sense he won't waste it. A fair bargain for a seat, methinks"

The dandy turned his attention back to the principal topic of interest "The blood is most definitely the thrill, old bean. Nothing quite like death to brighten an otherwise dull afternoon, wot." Luca took a sip of his wine He was willing to bet cousin Lorenna had chosen this vintage. "But simply watching, after all, is a voyeur's pleasure. Whereas betting is a form of participation. And when the hounds are let loose, the anticipation of the hoped-for outcome should get a punter's palms moist and their heart pounding." Luca grinned "Much like sex, dear fellow, but without the need for discretion. But that only works when the outcome is not certain. So, for the voyeurs, the Bitch. For the punters, more even matches. Enjoy the lady from both ends, as it were."

Jacel's final quip had Luca in tears "Oh dash it all, Jacel, don't make me laugh so much I cannot enjoy my wine without risk of staining my cravat." Luca took a moment to compose himself "But you know what they say, old bean: every fine meal needs a small starter, and you'd be surprised how many like to stimulate their palate with something small and bite-sized before the main course." Luca smirked as one particularly lascivious memory floated to the surface.

"But that does remind me. Some of my daring young wantons have shown some interest in widening their experiences, and methinks another of my little excursions to your fine establishment is in order 'pon the week's end. I dare say I'll have a fair gauge as to numbers by the time dawn arrives tonight and I submit to sleep. Think you can reserve us a few bottles of the finer vintages for the weekend, old bean? Fine wine and the smell of blood should make for a raucous night of fun and unfettered betting, wot."

A flash of colour and an outline of slim curves caught Luca's eye. The fop murmured quietly to his discerning companion "Oh my, hold that thought dear fellow. Is that Doctor Sekhara? Egads, but she looks like an entire year of desserts combined into one delightful and lickable morsel. Why on earth would she come to a farce like this? Perhaps she's going to distract us while Captain Camulous arrests us all on charges of being utterly dull and tedious on government property. Keep a sharp eye out, wot!" Luca nudged Jacel lightly with a wicked smile as he enjoyed another sip of wine

"Still, levity aside, surely the beautiful saviour of the city's poor, sick, and utterly reeking shantydwellers isn't supporting that dreadful Navarre's gauche hypocrisy. What d'you reckon, old bean? Any guesses as to why an unexpectedly beautiful doctor has graced these dire proceedings? I'm certainly at a loss, but I have to say I wholeheartedly appreciate the spectacle."

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel turned his neck sluggishly to watch Metarie’s movements. He left arm hung over the chair’s back. “Oh, I rather doubt tedium is what will get either of us arrested, my friend. We’re nothing if not interesting.” It had been kept rather bright in the hall, so Jacel lifted his right hand above his eyes as if shielding them from the sun.

There she was. Luca’s eyes had not failed. Jacel had to admit she was striking when every bit as decorated as Jacel’s young companion, though he personally had only rarely found solace upon such sights. He had to think before he recalled where he had first heard the doctor’s name. For Luca, she was an age old figure in Marn. For Jacel, she had nearly been a classmate.

Of course, her family had owned the connections and power to survive the fall as his had been afflicted with poverty. Jacel couldn’t help but feel spiteful over her the clear luxury she enjoyed now. How pathetically ironic was it that her aptitude for magic had let her stay at the top of a culture which hated it?

“Bah.” He said simply, turning back. “The good doctor keeps the drunks at my bar from losin’ their kidneys, that’s good enough for me” Jacel had no idea whether or not she actually could restore function to a failing kidney. “She keeps her nose far too clean to attract my notice. ‘Has for the last seventy years.”

Jacel couldn’t help but notice Luca’s train of thought. He chuckled. “I wish you the best of luck. As for the other matter, of course I can. I’ll even reserve front row seats for you and yours once you tell me the number.” Jacel’s toothy smile grew wide. “The wine and blood will spill together, you have my word!”

[Luca Abernathy]

Luca grinned, and wondered if angering Camulous would be entertaining enough to outweigh the consequences . Certainly, there would be no harm in flirting if the opportunity presented itself. "Well, old bean, we'll see where the night takes our health. Who knows, maybe I'll require a doctor's tender ministrations." Luca straightened a recalcitrant sleeve "But far less than the dogs will this weekend, I wager. I'll have Conrad drop off some numbers within the next two evenings. Have the bookies in fine form, and I think everyone will consider it a jolly good night."

Luca feigned a yawn as he cast a roaming eye around the crowd "Honestly, my dear fellow, there are enough dull political prigs here to send one to sleep. And on the topic of sleep, there are some friends of mine interested in having that delightfully sweeter kind of dream." Luca sipped at his wine "I find myself regrettably running low on my ability to oblige them. Can money still buy happiness, I wonder? A question for the ages and perhaps a quieter, more philosophic venue, hmm? Maybe this weekend is a good chance to engage in debate on the nature of dreams." Luca's supply of opiates were getting rather low, though he'd have enough for this evening's post-soiree festivities.

Luca kept a weather eye out for Lorenna by periodically letting his gaze flick past Navarre's entourage of lapdogs. Just seeing the girl was irritating. So much physical potential lost to a mediocre mentality. "Oh, I say. Did y'hear, old bean? The Cottrels are still having difficulty keeping a leash Elsbeth, apparently." Luca smiled brightly in the general direction of Elsbeth and Victor "Not over me, of course: that fun little scandal is old news." Luca chuckled "But just take a look over there, though, at Victor Cottrel's sour expression." The fop enjoyed another sip to wet his throat "No, this time it's a Merynir."

The dandy idly cast his eyes around to ensure nobody was close enough to casually overhear the rest as he murmured "You know that Aurelio chap? Moody bastard who doesn't always quite get the proper notion of fun? Well, it's not him. That young chap Eric you met in passing earlier is friends with young Davin Merynir. It seems Davin is trying to emulate his cousin Aurelio in some regards, though heavens know why. However, while Aurelio got a bit too aggressive for our light-hearted affairs, young Davin seems to have found a home away from home. And coincidentally Elsbeth has taken rather a fancy to the man." Luca chuckled "It's stirred the social waters rather nicely, all in all. Any gossip at your end, old bean?"

[Talia Idris]

Talia had nodded her head and done her best to appear serious and understanding of her companion's job and the crazy people he apparently had to appease. After all it wasn't too hard to understand where he was coming from after imagining how crazy it would be if her job relied on coming up with new and different ideas every couple days. It could actually be quite comforting to know that everyone wanted the same thing day after day.

“I think I could pull that look off, myself.”

"HA!" Talia covered her mouth with both hands and turned towards the wall. She had managed a lady like titter at the thought of someone wearing birds like a wig but the image in her mind of this man strutting around in a feathery ensemble? Well, it all burst out in one loud, and embarrassing chortle. Her cheeks turned red again but behind her hands she started to giggle again, her eyes dancing in the lights as she looked up at him.

"I am sorry!" She whispered, hoping she hadn't embarrassed or frightened him off. "I just couldn't help myself after thinking about you prancing around in that get-up with a feathered hat and such a serious face. Do you think anyone heard?" She asked, lowering her hands and looking around the room before looking up at him while she did her best at an apologetic smile. If he stuck around after that then perhaps tonight would be a bit of fun, especially since he proved he had at least a small sense of humour.

[Haneul]

If the gala weren’t a ridiculously good opportunity, Haneul would not have bothered to go. Yet as it was, there would be so many people and so many potential targets that it would be madness not to make an appearance. All under the cover of entertainment, of course, accompanying some cousin or other of Aurelio’s.
Now wouldn’t that be a thrill.

And so it was that she was sitting in front of a mirror with hair pins, brushes, and a great number of decorative articles laid out in front of her while her faithful servant was giving her a hand with one of the most intricate hairdos she has done in what seems like forever. None of the other events she had accompanied Shanuri to had required such work. This one did however. They were to attend the gala as entertainment after all and every single upper-class idiot would throw on their best clothes and their fanciest jewels – she simply had to match them or even up their game a little.
In light of this, she had thrown on an electric blue dress which was tight all around her upper body, hips and thighs before billowing out into a rather large skirt with a small train. Her back was mostly left bare and a generous diamond-shaped view of her upper chest area was provided though her cleavage was covered up decently nonetheless. It was intricately embroidered in a black dragon design around the edges where skin was showing, around the neck as well as in several lines down the whole of the dress. Of course she wore matching gloves to cover up her lower arms. It certainly wouldn’t be bad for business if she managed to outshine some of those old prunes and attracted a few eyes. The more doors this would open for Shanuri, the better!

“Which one of these?” her servant asked, pointing to the many items spread over the table, dutifully picking up the ones Haneul pointed out.
“And don’t forget to sneak the dragon in somewhere unobtrusive as well.”
“Already done! Such a beautiful piece of work,” Seiko smiled, briefly touching the charm to point out where it was hidden.

Seiko’s skilled fingers continued working on the mage’s long hair, weaving the charms into it hidden amongst folds and tresses or covered up by decorative articles to hide them from view. They were bespelled well enough that they should not be detectable and if they were, they were designed to appear as protective charms rather than suppression and concealment for the scars on her back.

“You know what to do tonight,” were Haneul’s parting words when Seiko declared her ready to go – Christopher Merynir had been sitting in the parlour for the better part of an hour, waiting for her to finish getting ready – and the servant bowed with a smile. “I shall have what you requested by the time you return.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The arrival at the gala was predictably glorious. There were well-dressed people milling about in every corner, there was chatter and gossip everywhere and quite a few intrigued looks were shot their way, most likely wondering who the Merynir – Haneul had already forgotten his name - had managed to snatch as company for the gala. As soon as the couple entered the main room where most people were already eagerly awaiting Lady Navarre’s grand entrance, Haneul spotted Shanuri – the woman was hard to miss in the fabulously eye-catching red dress – and briefly nodded to her, so the latter could note her presence.

There were a few more familiar faces in the crowd and Haneul tried to register as many of them as possible, including those new faces whom she could catch the name of. She didn’t like the overall atmosphere however. It all seemed so pretentious and she couldn’t help but wonder how many people were here simply to be seen and to see who else was going to make an appearance rather than actually believing in Lady Navarre’s weird campaign. At least it gave them the possibility to see certain people interact with each other and observe some of their habits. One could never know when such knowledge could prove useful.

It was almost disgusting how these people strutted around, showing off whatever they thought they were, drinking too much alcohol for their own good or parading around whatever fancy two-legged accessory they had dangling from their arms... Much to her dismay, she was one of those.
And if his bloody hand slipped one more time…
A wave of magic was starting to claw its way to the surface, eager to teach the man a lesson but Haneul had to keep it confined. If she used magic now, all would have been for naught. This was not the time to fall under suspicion. Swallowing hard, she forced the bubble back down along with her rising bile.

Then her attention, along with everyone else’s, was all of a sudden pulled to Lady Navarre. It seemed as though they had arrived just in time!

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel leaned in towards his companion. The infamous lady Navarre had taken to the stand, so he decided to be somewhat quick about it. “You’ve heard of Senaca? Crazy-ass bastard from Ciasse, started a little team of drug dealers? Apparently he finally pissed off the locals, especially the good sir . Chopped his nuts off as warning, but let him live.” Jacel leaned back and thought about his next tidbit. “I heard

There was some information that even for all the friendship shared between them he really couldn’t justify parting with. Not until he understood more. He decided to give Luca a watered down version of some recent developments. Recent as in yesterday, when a pair of disheveled young lowlifes had stumbled through his door.

“More notably, those little Paragon fellows might actually have something up their sleeves. Their methods make it tricky as a beggar with a knife, but I can tell you with some clarity what the government doesn’t want you to know: there was a break in at the justice hall that nearly succeeded.” Jacel furrowed his eyebrows, “This is some recent stuff. I’m still trying to figure all of it out, so don’t go makin’ my job harder by blabbing about it, you hear? Suffice to say they have more resources that previously expected.”

The fat elf went silent for a moment as a thin, black haired man walked past the table. He was dressed almost as sharply as Luca and spared only a disdainful glance for the pair. Jacel had no idea who he was, wondering if it was just disdain for his plain dress, his company, or his stature. The fat elf supposed it didn’t really matter much, since the fellow was already almost out of earshot.

“I still think they are involved in a handful of disappearances, probably for human trafficking. Stepping onto some toes with it.” Jacel took a long moment to exhale, deciding how to phrase the next bit. He rotated his cane with three of his fingers. “The smugglers might make their lives more difficult soon. Getting paranoid about the safety of their supply routes.”

[Vicentius]

"I don't prance, dear lady," Tius said with a sudden passion, "I Glide."

He raised an eyebrow and threw his arms out in mock desperation, though he smiled in spite of himself. The most amazing thing happened as she laughed and fell into fits of giggling; her entire being seemed to light up. Her seemingly timid and shy facade fell away to reveal the beautiful, vibrant person beneath. Once again, he was struck with that feeling of deja vu as she laughed and drew back with her pendant twinkling in time with her eyes. Where had he seen that? She tried to apologise and h acted as though groping for words, still smiling. She was too cute.

"Who cares if they heard? You don't think I could? I can be..." he paused, shuddering slightly "..pretty."

He struck a pose, gesturing to himself with one hand. The crowd moved around them and more and more faces he recognized from the rumour mill appeared in the crowd. He'd been right in his estimates. Surprisingly, he spotted Luca on the sidelines chatting to the elf, Varti. He was usually too interested in the needle being stuck in his arm or up his arse to bother with politics, which made this a social call. Given his usual circle, Tius could only surmise that his cousin had twisted his arm into coming. Varti's presence was less surprising. A big figure in some circles, no pun intended, he was a very sharp customer and if he was here, then aside from wanting to rankle posh noses he must have smelled the change in the air too. Tius had dealt with him on occasion and his dislike of Tius was clear. Still Tius respected him enough to have quite a bit of money riding on some of the circles he moved in. He only wished he could be half as sure of the other people involved. They were so...small. They had no vision. He kept his voice as deadpan as he could.

"Would the feathers not accentuate my aquiline features?"

He raised an eyebrow haughtily, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a smile. Lady Sehkhara also wound her way through the crowd, distorting the flow of conversation as she went. Given her leanings it was highly unlikely that she was here to show support. Far more likely she was here to spite Navarre and highlight the plight of whoever was benighted at the moment. It was so very like her. Part of him held a grudge that she prospered easily while he floundered, but he respected her nonetheless. Enough so that he contributed to her charities regularly. It was always about appearances, so he'd done it on the quiet. It was the least a proper, responsible puradyne could do and besides it would make him look not only generous but humble too when it came out. He doubted that she was even broadly aware of his existence. He let a flicker of uncertainty cross his features and drew in closer to her.

"Or would I need different shoes?"

He smiled devilishly now. At the entrance, a couple drew his eye, though the woman held it more than dear Christopher. Tian Xian. Undeniably exotic and quietly....seething. For a moment he thought he caught a pointed glance towards the head table. It was so fast and so brief he could have imagined it and he shook the impression off, turning back to his companion just as the tide of the room swung to the main table.

"Seems we're to be interrupted," he said with a sad smile.

Here we go.

[Navarre]

“Oh, none of that! I always look forward to hearing your stories,” Alexander said with a laugh as he gave Dedenia a friendly hug. As he pulled out a seat for her, he looked over at Jevan. “Certainly. Lady Navarre, surely you remember Magistrate Jevan Mornir and his wife Dedenia?”

“Of course,” Navarre said as she rose from her seat, smiling. Truthfully, she knew little about the man, though it seemed that Isyrion had met him at some point in the past. Fortunately, it was about time for her to give her speech – their conversation could wait. “It's a pleasure to see you. Please forgive my rudeness, but I am needed on the stage to welcome the guests. I will be back momentarily.”

Once Navarre bid her farewell and headed for the stage, Alexander took his seat and turned to the couple, ready to entertain them in Navarre's absence. “It's been quite a few years. Tell me, tell me, how is life treating you these days?”

As Navarre passed through the crowd, she glanced toward the entrance and saw Metarie near the entrance. Such awful timing! She had hoped to speak with her before giving her speech, but she could always welcome her afterward. Alexander was far more reliable than Modestine, so she hoped he would notice her and usher her over to the table in the meantime. For the sake of politeness, she gave a little wave to Metarie as she reached the stage, though she doubted Metarie would notice.

Navarre ascended the stage's stairs and took her place at the podium. The crowd went silent This was her moment.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming. I had prepared a speech for this evening celebrating our success and expressing my gratitude for your support, but given recent circumstances I no longer feel it is appropriate. What I had intended as a joyous occasion has unfortunately been tarnished by a tragedy, and to continue on as though it hasn't happened or to simply address it in passing would understate the gravity of the situation. Since I will be speaking unscripted at an emotional time, I ask for your patience and understanding.

“John Modestine was found murdered in his home this morning. His body was severely mutilated, the word 'liar' carved into his chest and his throat slashed. The Guard is currently investigating his death, but I think we all understand what happened. How could we not? Surely it was no coincidence that the murderer waited for this celebration to strike. John's death was to make a point, and the message was clear enough: John had dared to speak out against the growing corruption in Marn, and so he was silenced. If we spread 'lies' like he did, then we too will be dealt with. He died for supporting our cause, and as its leader I also have his blood on our hands. John had the courage to put his life on the line for the good of Marn, and I should have taken extra measures to ensure his safety, especially after his family was killed. I failed him, and now I will have to live with that.

“After the slaughter at my father's house, I tried to kill myself. My father had been my whole life after my mother's death, and when I saw him covered in blood on the floor, I... I had a moment of weakness. I grabbed a steak knife from the table and came close to driving it through my chest. But John noticed me” - she wiped her tears away, her voice quivering - “and snatched the knife away, embracing me. I had lost my father, but his entire family lay before him torn to pieces. His entire life had fallen apart, but he still had the heart, the resolve, to put his anguish aside and help someone else. He spent the next several days with me to ensure I was alright, even as his grief tore away at his mind. That, to me, perfectly shows the kind of man John was, and how we should remember him.

“But what bothers me most is how numb I feel about it all. I've lost many loved ones over the years, and now it just seems so commonplace. Whenever someone enters my life, I have to accept that he or she may be gone in a few years. I won't look for a husband because I feel I'd lose him before long. This isn't right. I don't want to live in a Marn where I always need to look over my shoulder when walking down the street. We shouldn't have to fear losing our friends and family. When I was a child, I never would have imagined becoming desensitized to death by my early twenties. I want to go back to the days when I could worry about normal things – schoolwork, dating, finding a good job – but I can't. I want to recover from this string of tragedies, to settle down and start a family, but I will not until I know my children won't lose their innocence like I have.

“I'd intended to call off the gala after I heard what happened to John, but my close friend Alexander Marquelis talked me out of it. He knew John for years and believed he would have wanted me to press on. And I realized he was right. John didn't back down in the face of tragedy: he refused to allow his family's death to destroy him; instead, he fought to ensure that no one else in Marn would ever have to experience such a tragedy. I'm going to honor his memory by continuing that fight. But even with all the support you've given me, we can't do this alone. Our base is not as diverse as I hoped – we need Marn on our side, not just a collection of aristocrats. I understand that many are concerned by the racial focus of the campaign, and I admit that point was pushed too strongly. Though some races are more likely than others to practice magic and support the insurrection, one's loyalty to Marn is all that matters.

That being said, I would like to formally request the government's support for our campaign. We have made excellent progress these past few months, but we can only do so much without Marn's leaders on our side. I've been working tirelessly to open the government's eyes to our struggle, and I am confident this outpouring of support will prove the justice of our cause. As long as we stand united, we will rout out the treacherous weeds infesting our city and guarantee a better tomorrow for Marn.

Those of us who met John Modestine knew he had an unrivaled sense of fun. In his memory, let's put politics aside and have a party worthy of his legacy! All of tonight's proceeds will go toward supporting the remnants of the Modestine family, and there is a table to accept further donations near the entrance. From the bottom of my heart, thank you all.”

As the auditorium erupted in applause, Navarre gave a shy smile and turned to leave the stage, her grin turning into a smirk as she walked down the stairs.

[Guile]

A white draft horse pulled an elegant carriage down the cobblestone streets of Marn. The coach drove the horse at a hurried pace, and as the vehicle passed, those on the street could hear mumbles of bickering from within its wooden keep.

"Hermipises, I wonder if there is something wrong with your pocket watch," said Minister Guile Markus, ruffling the silk-embroidered dress of his wife delicately. His hand appeared to search for something tenderly, but the movement was quickly revealed as asexual when he pulled the watch from a clip on the fabric. Guile swung it around in a circle as his wife fumbled after it.

Hermipises's red hair was done up in a large bun with delicate tresses dangling down her pale neck. Her outfit was expensive and had probably been specially tailored by elven hands, made apparent by the detail of the embroidery. The open front of its green fabric revealed a modest bosom, covered by a frilly white undergarment so as not to offend aristrocracy's delicate tastes. She was a young forty, her skin painted with creams to make her beauty everlasting. Those who knew her knew only a vain woman in the lofty position of Minister's wife.

"Enough childishness! Give it back!" Her voice was grating, as if she had smoked a great deal of tobacco her entire life. She had not.
"See, I would, if only you would learn to use it. If you'd look closely at this hour hand--"
"Enough!!" Hermipises's hands waved around wildly, her hair so tightly bound that it did not loosen.
"-- you'll see that it is half past the correct hour, as in, your flitting about and beautifying routine has caused our small and capable party to be noticeably and offensively late."

As Guile's tone rose, his wife stopped struggling for the watch. She gave him a cruel look, and he narrowed his eyes at her pitiful, haggard face. "Had you not spent an hour on it, I would strike your face now."
"The hour was to ensure your good behavior, husband," she said, and gave a polite smile. She then turned her head away from him, looking straight on at the carriage front, though there was nothing to see.
Guile sighed. He decided whether or not to pocket her watch for a moment, and swiftly clipped it back in its original place at her side.

At last, the carriage halted and the coach opened the door to allow the Minister's wife to exit. Her shoes clacked delicately onto the stone walkway. Guile let himself out as usual and moved around to the other side. He took Hermipises' arm with his own and escorted her to the front of the auditorium. He noted that no others were arriving so late, and the doorman gave him a look that was almost disrespectful.
"Sir, the proceedings have already begun," said the doorman.
Guile only flashed the invitation to him and knew that it his wife and elaborate clothing were all that really mattered for entry. They entered.

They entered, only to find a shocked and awed crowd who stood in a deep silence, watching the lovely Lady Navarre at front and center. Some groups were mumbling and chattering quietly amongst themselves. Any smile that had been on the Markus faces swiftly left the both of them.

"That, to me, perfectly shows the kind of man John was, and how we should remember him.
The Lady glowed in the light of the stage. Her words were potent, and it was at this moment that Guile realized that John Modestine was dead. The Markus pair moved closer to a group of people who whispered rumors. Hermipises asked what was going on, but they responded only with a stunned, shaking head.

The entire ampitheater exploded in a round of applause, and Guile, feeling foolish, clapped his large hands together for the Lady.

He recalled how poor in mood and health Modestine had looked when last they had met. Guile now realized that the insurrection must have been making threats to him. Perhaps they had attempted blackmail, or worse. The very nerve of such an ugly group of people angered him. He was in no mood to party.

Toward the front of the hall was Metarie, looking more youthful than ever, even from the back. Guile took this to mean that she, too, was on Navarre's side. Why else would she have come to such an event?

[Talia Idris]

"Stop it!" Talia had giggled as she gasped for breathe, "please stop...I can't...I can't breathe!" A bright smile stretched across her rosy face, one that her hand hadn't been able to hid so she let it drop along side the other one. She regreted refusing a drink earlier or even deciding against purchasing a fan to go with her outfit. As a baker she never felt her hands feel so awkward as they did now.

Talia had been about to open her mouth to continue their banter, and perhaps even formally introduce herself when her conversation partner indicated that something, or rather someone was interrupting them. She was thankful that he seemed to be paying attention to what had been happening around them, it would have been an even bigger embarrassment if she had drawn attention to them while the crowd was quick to quiet down.

Talia turned her body towards the stage, managing to close some of the distance that remained between them in the process. She admired the woman who stood before them, she looked beautiful, almost regal in the way that she held herself and silently commanded the attention of those around her.

The words that were spoken in the minutes afterwards brought many conflicting emotions to her mind, emotions that could easily be seen dancing across her face. Her clasped hands separated as one crept up and toyed with the jewel that hung on the ribbon around her neck as she though about her own family. Although her family had been torn apart due more the to existence of magic with it. Sure there was probably good magic out there but she had yet to see a circumstance where it did not end up corrupting the user and harming people around them. Thus it too was her desire to see the presence of such a depraved trait quelled.

Yet how was this woman planning on completing this task? What was she calling for them and the leaders of her precious city to do? How would they 'rout out the treacherous weeds'? Even though her heart felt lightened by the promises that had been made, Talia's brow furrowed in worry and confusion as many more unanswered questions crossed her mind.

[Vicentius]

Ok, he thought as Navarre ascended the stage, here we go.

For all that he had expected something though, he most definitely did not expect the cold wind that blew through his thoughts as Navarre's performance picked up pace. He narrowed his eyes, wondering at the choice of words. All the faces around him seemed to be drinking in the information, but he knew that was meaningless. Action spoke volumes and the comfortable rich were loath to act if they could avoid it. Who began moving afterwards would be very telling. He didn't buy the line about being inured against grief for a second. Those kind of revelations left scars no matter what precautions one took. None were on display, despite the waterworks. He couldn't explain that notion beyond instinct. In Marn that could mean any number of things but in this case it was just too...practised. Theatrical. It seemed out of place. He forced himself to consider all angles as he always had. Everything was a play in politics and everything was of utmost importance. A player only had to miss one shot after all.

He also didn't buy the guard's involvement. Sitting on information like this wasn't their style and not so much as a whisper had crossed his desk. That was very, very telling. Still, with Modestine dead and Navarre on the warpath, it did raise the question of who benefited. Or more precisely how would he benefit? Meanwhile a small part of him remembered a rumour that it would be a cold day in hell before Navarre started a family. He also liked how she left out the part that to live in Marn was to constantly look over one's shoulder. Mostly for the guard that was lurking behind you. Nothing changed. His thoughts whirred along those lines for a few minutes before practicality kicked in. He forced his ducks to waddle in a straight line.

Modestine was an embarrassment and an outright joke, but he'd held sway. Without his backing Navarre was vulnerable. Sure her rhetoric was impressive, all good rousing theatre, but once the shock wore off she'd be left looking vulnerable. So she wouldn't wait to capitalize on her new asset. He expected that lines would be drawn and factions sounded out soon if they hadn't been already. He needed to get in front of this. So who would fall where? In his office not much would change, he was sure. Jevan was level headed and stubborn; pushing him was counter productive, they'd let him stew. Ryoko was too career driven to take sides. She'd wait and tag on with the loudest voice when the time was right. Sofia would call the whole thing morally reprehensible and call for a more rigorous investigation by the guard. That left him. He was too junior to move the department so chances were he was under the radar. he'd have to keep an ear open but it freed him to turn his gaze outwards. Whether the rebels had done this or not there was pressure on them now and they in turn would have to move. Violence in the streets was bad for business so any action would need to be quick and brutal. He needed time to get a better picture but time was what he didn't have.

"There will be blood in the streets," he said, turning back to his companion, "such a sad thing."

Shaking his head, he smiled and looked like he was feigning optimism.

"I mean, who knows, maybe a witch hunt will help people feel safer?"