It’s perhaps inevitable that the Embassy would be dragged into this business. Everyone wants to know what the devils are going to do. Whether one likes them or hates them, one cannot ignore them.
And so, a discussion must be had.
Just inside the Brass Embassy waits Eglantine, dressed for the dance that has been scheduled for later tonight - no mortal squabble can derail a planned event here, after all, and even a life-or-death issue must find its own place in the itinerary. They are, unusually enough, in a dress of pure white, with feathered accoutrements that suggest the costume of a dove, but lengths of scarlet silk hang from each wrist. Innocence wounded, two steps from death or damnation. It is the most tempting costume they could have contrived in this place.
Dark eyes, red lips, and a slender pallid form make an impression, together - they have chosen well, tonight.
As to whether all Eglantine’s choices tonight will be as good? That, they’re not sure of.
A figure moves through the streets his attire formal, but with a few odd pieces here and there. A brass ring on his finger, a devilish hat on his head were a few of the pieces of this gentleman’s clothing that showed his allegiance to Hell, although the bottle under his arm was the most interesting piece.
Lord Gazter kept on walking until he could see the doors of the Brass Embassy. He readied himself and began to walk towards those doors with a smile on his lip and confident stride.
Lord Gazter greeted the devils outside the Embassy and then entered through the doors.
This is what Eglantine has been waiting for.
As soon as Gazter is inside the Embassy, they come strolling over to him, smiling. "Hello, Barnabas," they purr, quietly, sliding an arm around his waist. "Fancy seeing you here."
They had been… a little thrown, perhaps, at the news of who would be trying to persuade the devils, and had needed to revise their plans very quickly, but they know Gazter well enough to know how to handle some of this.
Even if it does mean some of their tricks are automatically off the table, and filed under ‘things I really don’t want to have to do to him.’
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“My dear Eglantine, how marvelous it is to see you.” Lord Gazter returns the embrace.
“What is it you’ve got there?” With a playful little smile, they sneak a peek at the bottle under his arm. “It can’t be more interesting to hold than I am.”
There’s a silvery little laugh, and they tug lightly on his arm. “But this is no place for talk like that. Maybe we’d better find somewhere in this maze of a building that is.” They wink.
"I would follow you anywhere my dear Eglantine." Lord Gazter follows Eglantine into a more private room.
As the Lord Gazter shuts the door behind him his shoulders drop as if the weight on his back had been lessened. He places the bottle on a table.
Lord Gazter sighs and looks into Eglantine’s eyes. "I know why you brought me here Eglantine, but I won’t be convinced to change my mind."
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“I wish you would,” Eglantine murmurs. “It would be easier if we could walk out there together, on the same side.”
They sigh, and rest a hand lightly upon his cheek. “But that’s a matter of out there, at least. Not in here. It’s just us, here, no-one to convince.” Their arms twine about his neck, and they lean against him, though they look melancholy still.
"Then why won’t you put this Flowerdene nonsense behind you?" Lord Gazter shakes his head. "This whole plan of Eli’s is self destructive folly nothing more."
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“Turn away from Flowerdene? I can’t, Barnabas. There are people there who still need me. I stay for them. Surely you can understand that?” they ask, plaintively.
"It is not them I care about. I…" Lord Gazter stops himself. "If they already plan on going through with their own deaths, why sacrifice yourself as well."
Lord Gazter looks pleadingly into Eglantines eyes. "Please, for me will you give up nonsense." He embraces Eglantine. "How…how…how would I live without you my sweet briar rose?" His voice clearly wavers as he says these words.
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Eglantine’s words are gentle, but inexorable. "I’m talking about the ordinary people, the ones who can’t just leave. They’re the ones who need me." They sigh again.
"But for you… Still." They seem conflicted, uncertain about what to do or say. "You lived without me just fine before," Eglantine mutters.
Lord Gazter exhales heavily. He keeps his arms around Eglantine. "Once, but no longer." Lord Gazter is silent for several moments. "Can’t we just forget all this madness and leave London together?"
"All things are madness, Barnabas, here or there." Eglantine smiles suddenly and sweetly. "It’s just a matter of what madness one chooses. And this is my choice."
They draw him close and kiss him firmly.
Before the kiss can be planted, Lord Gazter puts his hands on Eglantine’s shoulders and pushes them back far enough so that he can look them in the eyes. "Why? Why must you do this?" Lord Gazter looks away from Eglantine. "It’s that b_____d Eli. If it wasn’t for him…" Within Lord Gazter’s eyes a burning rage begins to grow.
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"Barnabas." Eglantine’s voice is quietly reasonable. "You’re worrying me. And this isn’t about Eli." They look suddenly surprised. "Do you think I’m in love with him, or some such?" There’s a sudden relieved laugh. "Is that it? Is that the problem? Because it’s not true."
Lord Gazter’s head sinks. “No, but if it wasn’t for him you would not be in danger.” He looks up at Eglantine. “I won’t let his delusions of grandeur take you with him.” He shakes his head. “I won’t allow it.”
“What will you do, then?” One hand reaches out, to rest lightly on Gazter’s shoulder. “Because I assure you, I can find plenty of danger without his say-so. He wouldn’t even like to know that I’m here with you, and yet here I am anyway.”
“He’s a blind fool, who can’t see the pit before him. The masters won’t just fall no matter, what he says. He commands a group of hopeless fools from Spite. I see where the winds are blowing and it is not with him.”
Lord Gazter pauses and face becomes grim. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you from harm my dear Eglantine.” His face softens. “I swear it.”
“Do you love me, then? Really, truly love me?” Eglantine reaches up, their hand resting on the back of his head to draw it down just a little, so that their foreheads are touching. Their voice seems a little wistful. “Do you?”
“Yes, my dear Eglantine, how could I ever feel any other way?” He says in a tired whisper.