Dreams are too precious a thing to forget. For that, I have never tasted laudanum even in the worst throws of Nightmares, and the Manager can go to Hell or Parabola before he gets any of mine!
Forgive me, I am a little vehement on that point. On an unrelated note… do you have any idea what happened in Paris? They talk so much about it at Wilmonts End…
Paris? I’m starting to wonder if it’s a codeword or something like that. I worked as a courier for some players at one time, and I recall a lady asking a man about his time in Paris when I know for a fact that man had died as a child and so could never have left for the surface!
Or was he lying about that? Hm…
That’s certainly a question. But one actually directed to you–which Neathy celebration do you enjoy the most?
Christmas. I really enjoy giving the Masters gifts, especially after Mr Pages stopped accepting books from me. Not too sure why he did that…
edited by Sara Hysaro on 11/5/2014
I hope no one minds if I butt in. I’m not usually much of a people person, but you all seem nice. Relatively speaking.
My hope is that my Surface self would be rather pleased with my accomplishments. Of course, the young Delphinus La’Rue was considerably more conservative than I am today. She would probably just be scandalized.
A question for you: What in London do you wish for most?
The more the merrier so welcome and welcome to the conversation my dear Miss La’Rue! And congratulations on scandalizing your previous self! Now what in London do I wish for most? That is a hard one, I am entirely torn between power and pinnacles of hedonistic pleasure … hmmmm … this is a hard one … I shall go with the latter.
Question: Why are you closest to the faction that you are closest to?
It’s a funny story, really; it all started when I, observing a dispute in the street, warned one of the urchins that he’d get caught if he picked one of the disputant’s pockets. In thanks, he gave me a little kitten, who I still keep to this day. I wouldn’t have gone much further in that, save when I saw the Regiment actually use a cannon to gain some respect in the docks! After that, I had to throw my lot in with them. Such spirit! They’re pushed lower (or higher, depending on how you look at it) than any in the Neath, and yet are the least melancholy fellows around!
On that note, what was the thing that cheered you up the most when you saw it in London?
(A surprisingly soft, quiet voice speaks from within the shadows of Seeker of Names’ hooded cloak.) The Correspondence. The first time I saw the wonderful curves, I was enchanted. Although I did not understand it, my soul knew it. Here at last was a language truly meant to share names.
And then I caught aflame. Ah well, you can’t have everything.
What is your name, and what does it mean?
(Mr. Lamperouge chews thoughtfully on a cigar, before answering)
Henry Lamperouge is but a name to a rose, a title so chosen not from meaning, but from personal taste. As for those that ponder my true name, let they ponder forever more. Damn good wine, this.
What vintage would you consider bringing to an exceptional soiree?
edited by Henry Lamperouge on 11/5/2014
The '44, naturally. It would be an insult to do any less when one has the option. The '68 would be acceptable, but shows one’s allegiances too strongly for my tastes.
Hmm…which of the assorted newspapers of London do you favour?
I value my dreams of the thunder, and of that diamond, the size of a cow. Those d—ed mirrors are costing me quite a bit of rest though.
Now, to you-
What most intrigues you about the Neath?
Immortality, my friend! Can you imagine the fortune one could possess with a limitless life? That, and there is so much opportunity down here. Do you really think a lady like me could ever have become -important- up there? Hardly. If I cause scandal down here, just imagine what they’d have to say up there. Hmph. You can have your mysteries, but me? I like to explore the Neath as is, and make the most of my time while I’m here.
Do you have any family?
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(There is the merest impression of a smirk inside Seeker of Names’ hood.) No.
What superpower would you choose?
If you refer to countries of international influence, then I’m afraid I must hold my tongue.
As for supernatural ability, then I would first enquire the cost of such a trade.
But all choices being equal, I would favour the power to grant superpowers to beings, both myself and others. A little bland, I know, yet the fun I would have would be worth almost any price.
If you had a say in which city was next brought down to join ours, where would you pick?
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We would say “none.” For one who speaks of trades, you seem oddly unworried about the price of that particular deal. Let London lie within the belly of the Neath forever.
Which of the Masters do you respect the most?
Soran: I believe I’ve already made my feelings on Mr. Pages clear earlier in this game. What about you, Zero?
Zero: Mr. Wines, who else? He’s definitely the most jovial Master, and he’s the one that most of my extra spending money goes towards.
Cairn: As for me, I quite like what I’ve heard about Mr. Veils. Plus, given how much clothe I cover myself in on any given day, I somewhat suspect that he’ll be the Master I end up doing most of my business with. Now… Who should ask the next question?
Zero: Well, I haven’t asked anything yet.
Soran: Oh, good god, no…
Zero: What is the most hilariously self-destructive thing you’ve done to yourself since coming to the Neath? Would you do it again?
(There is definite irritation in Seeker of Names’ soft voice.) I came to the Neath to seek the rarest, best-hidden name. I knew it was a quest that would doom me, that would lead to destruction, madness, and finally THE NAME.
And the bloody thing is nowhere to be found! I am Unaccountably Peckish all the time, with a dreadful hunger that cannot be easily sated. I have studied the Correspondence. I have dug up half the Forgotten Quarter. I have dreamed dreams of water. I would speak terrible truths to all who would listen. I have done everything but travel North, for I know I cannot go without a guide.
Nowhere, not so much as a hint. I do not even know where to start my search.
It is quite enough to drive a being to sanity.
(A deep, heavy sigh is heard within the cloak.)
Another’s turn. Same question. What is the most hilariously self-destructive thing you’ve done to yourself since coming to the Neath? Would you do it again?
I once drank a whole bottle of Black Wings Absinthe. The next morning, I woke up in bed with a deviless and an Italian Contessa in a suite at the Royal Bethlehem that had been accorded free of charge the previous night to a gentleman going by the name of “Dante Alighieri”. I had also acquired an impressive collection of bruises and a large wolfhound. It is not, on the whole, an experience I should care to repeat.
How has the Neath changed you?
For the more curious. My surface days were wrought with myriad dangers. My Neathy days are still wrought with such dangers, yet the impermanence of death has given me a new lease on life, aha. I find myself exploring dark corners and walking into quiet shops, where in the days of yesteryear I would have turned away or walked quickly past.
If you were to be given another attempt at a mistake made during your Surface years, which mistake would you correct?
"Deciding to come to London?", she laughs lightly, but there’s a slight bitterness there. "Oh, I jest. Well I was younger then and, though not foolish, I certainly was involved in many activities that were not entirely respectable." She smiles broadly, evidently recalling an adventure or two. But the smile fades, and her look darkens, and she brings the moment to a swift conclusion.
"My mistake was not saying goodbye".
Now to my question:
You rub your eyes. Good lord, is that the time? You’d been so caught up you hadn’t realised. How many hours have you been here? Well this really doesn’t do. All work and no play, well some say that’s how Jack of Knives started. Time for more leisurely activities! But at this obscene hour, what to do? You stroke your bottom lip as you consider the places and people of London.
So where would you go and/or who do you visit?
[quote=Fairweather]You rub your eyes. Good lord, is that the time? You’d been so caught up you hadn’t realised. How many hours have you been here? Well this really doesn’t do. All work and no play, well some say that’s how Jack of Knives started. Time for more leisurely activities! But at this obscene hour, what to do? You stroke your bottom lip as you consider the places and people of London.
So where would you go and/or who do you visit?[/quote]
Ah, Jack of Knives. When I was researching for The Ripper: A Fictional Account of Jack of Knives and his Bloodthirsty Deeds, I had an idea that perhaps the spirit of Jack traveled between hosts, much as a flea might. I pondered how it might feel, to be caught up in bloodshed, yet have no memory of it. In such a case, I’d think, you’d want to curl up with a newspaper and read it very carefully, looking for clues as to what you had done.
(DragonRidingSorceress is grinning, and smugly pleased with herself.) That wasn’t your question though, was it? Where would I go for late-night leisure activities. (The grin becomes wider.) I believe the ladies and gentlemen with the scarlet stockings hold sway on that matter. Sadly perhaps, I haven’t seen all that much of them. I did meet Sinning Jenny once, although it was a matter of business, not pleasure.
(She studies you, looking for a hint that you have been scandalised. Whatever it is she sees in your expression, she doesn’t stop grinning. Instead, she leans back in her seat and speaks again.) Veilgarden at night is always fun, even if the Ladies and Gents of Negotiable Virtue aren’t your style. There’s always a crowd to be found - the poets, writers, painters and dancers are up all night, swapping stories and drinking. And there’s usually a spy or two, on the pretense of looking for interesting tattoos, when they’re really just looking for a drink. Have you ever seen a truly drunk spy, two hours past midnight, try to deny his profession? I’ve rarely seen anything so amusing - and certainly not in the wee hours of the morning.
A question, a question. Have you a hobby?