The discussion of Neathy gods has the huntress animated, gesturing broadly as she speaks, her eyes like lamplight on the surface of the Unterzee. Before she can jump in with recitals of zuperstitious zailing-zongs gained in her line of work, however, the dance gong rings out. She recalls herself, and by the time its note fades to nothing she wears the rakish smile she started the night with.
"Good Lady Hysaro, talk of charity is well-received [color=#252525]–[/color] very well, in fact," she slips a calling card into her hand. "Call upon me in my lodgings, if you please, I’ve a collection of zailor’s tales that belong in your library. And a more private recital, if you like~" she finishes with a wink.
"But, I digress! Talk of charity is well-received, but for my tastes, the night is too young for such improving conversation. We’ve wine to drink, dances to share, and ladies to woo!" She drains her ink-stained coffee and glances among the aforementioned ladies, gauging each’s interest in turn at the prospect of a dance with the handsome zee-touched butch. edited by Nell Evangeline on 11/3/2016 edited by Nell Evangeline on 11/3/2016
A young gentleman appears in an amethystine robe, sporting a viridescent stripe up his chest. His mask: folds of green leaves, carmine silk petals, and ridiculously - at the center - his own bearded mug, unadorned save a pair of golden fangs. As Exceptional Rose costumes go, you’ve seen worse.
“Ah, the distinguished guests of Table Five! Professor Ginneon Thursday, at your service. I’ve taken the liberty of bringing over a mushroom champagne. Cultivated from a splendid harvest of girolles.” The professor sends the cork flying - its contents spill over with a joyful fizz.
“There was an individual at Table Eight eating live…well…I won’t go into what they were eating. Suffice it to say I thought it best to stretch my legs.” He begins filling glasses all around.
“Now then. Let’s play a game. Very high stakes.” He smiles sportively. “If I can guess who you are, you drink. If not, you get to name my penance.” The professor takes a healthy sip as he looks around the table.
“Let’s see…Mr Kassington - a most efficient Licentiate. You made this far too easy. No mask at all. Though I’m glad to see you here unscathed from the wars.”
“The Crab is…Mr Lethifer, yes? A painter and bon vivant par excellence! As a botanical avatar of love, I’m playing matchmaker in my costume tonight - though I doubt you’ll have any need of my help.”
“And you. Either a Somnolent Porcelain Doll, or a Death Mask. That would be…ah! Yes! Ms Ravenscroft. Watching your latest opera - I was transported. I have sent all my friends to see it. All my enemies as well, in the hope their shriveled humanity might be rekindled.”
“The White Raven…hmmm. Ms Hysaro, is it? One of Fallen London’s greatest philanthropists. Though I hear that is the least of your many wonderful and secret roles.”
“The Rubbery Man. You are Mr…wait. No. Definitely a Ms. Ah! Yes, of course. The Huntress Evangeline. Heavens, your ivory cane looks sharp. I certainly hope you’re not hunting anyone here tonight.”
Across the room, the musicians play a lively Viennese waltz. (Of course it’s Viennese.) “And you…hmm.” He scans the last guest, as though puzzling over a map to some foreign city. “Sharp teeth…a certain pallor. You are Lord Byron’s ‘Vampyre’ - or some other unliving revenant found in penny dreadfuls. But as for your name…I am at a loss.” He sips the last of his champagne. “I suppose I am at the mercy of your sentencing.”
A man in fashionable evening attire, topped off with a violant skull approaches the table.
“Good evening,” his cultured voice rings out, “I do hope you will pardon the intrusion, but I saw the lovely lady here in dreadful need of a dance and I could not help myself but attempt to rectify such a tragic situation.”
He holds a hand out to Lady Byron, “Shall I escort you to the dance floor, milady?”
"Thank you for the kind offer - that sounds delightful," Sara takes the calling card with a grin, tucking it into her pocket for safe-keeping. "Yes, we’ve a long night of drink, dance, company, and song! Much fun left to be had, for sure." She gives a look around the room, noting some of the attendees to this event. "Speaking of which, perhaps I ought to retrieve a friend at some point this evening. He’s not very social, but I’m sure he’ll find some entertainment here."
Sara responds to the arrival of Ginneon Thursday with a friendly wave and hello, trusting his judgement that whatever live thing someone was eating wasn’t anything she’d want to know. The proposal of a game garners a curious gaze, followed by one of amusement at its clarification. "Ah, this game." She takes a sip of the mushroom champagne when he names her, holding her remarks on the additional details of her identity until after the sentencing.
Appolonia smiles at Ginneon and takes the offered glass of mushroom wine.
"You have identified me correctly, sir, but not my costume. I’ll drink the wine in forfeit of my true identity. But, in the spirit of the game, if anyone" – she glances around the table – "wishes to make a more accurate guess, I’ll reward them with a dance or other token of their choice."
Lord Byron’s ‘Vampyre’ laughs with delight. "It is not wisdom, sir, to throw yourself, with such casual abandon, on the mercy of an ‘unliving revenant found in penny dreadfuls.’ Still, as wine is not what I thirst for," she continues, cutting her eyes to Ms Von Ravenscroft at her side, "your ignorance is my boon. But your penance! What shall it be?" she asks, with a wicked twist on her grin.
"Ah!" the ‘Vampyre’ says with a snap of her fingers, an idea having sprung, "amuse and instruct us with a story about the follies of gambling and prevaricating!"
[quote=Mr. Zane]A man in fashionable evening attire, topped off with a violant skull approaches the table.
“Good evening,” his cultured voice rings out, “I do hope you will pardon the intrusion, but I saw the lovely lady here in dreadful need of a dance and I could not help myself but attempt to rectify such a tragic situation.”
He holds a hand out to Lady Byron, “Shall I escort you to the dance floor, milady?”[/quote]
"My excellent Mr – ah, pardon, I should not give away your name – my excellent Mr Zkull, a dance would be a delight. But first we are owed a story by the Professing Rose. Will you hear it? And then we shall dance."
Sliding her chair closer to Ms Von Ravenscroft on her right, Lady Byron makes room for Mr Zane on her left.
[li]
"Thank the goddesses you appeared now and not a few minutes ago when yonder Rose," she nods at the man dressed as the Exceptional Rose, "was attempting to guess our identities," Lady Byron laughs. "I am well. And you, sir?"
“I have been enjoying the excellent celebration. Such excellent company and wine. Though unfortunately the table I’m at has become frightfully dull at the moment.”
"I did track down a copy of your gothic romance. ‘My Dear’. A marvelous read. I quite enjoyed all the mythological allusions. And it has indeed found a good home in my collection of stories about thread-wielding women in myth. Ariadne is such an interesting figure. The Labyrinth story with Theseus, of course, but also married to Dionysus god of wine. I am sure she would approve of these festivities, and the good drink available."
She takes another sip of Ginneon’s mushroom champagne. Delicious and rather intoxicating.
"Do you know they used to offer honey to Ariadne, in her role as mistress of the labyrinth? It seems a proper offering for a goddess."
At the word ‘goddess’ she glances at Lady Sapho.
"Though I do not think honey had the same power on the Surface as it does here. I am not sure this is the kind of party where they will serve honey. There would need to be more couches for reclining."
"Appolonia. It is wonderful to see you again."
Lord Gazter similes underneath the bandages. "I am glad that you rather enjoyed my book, and I am honored by your decision to make it part of your own collection." edited by Lord Gazter on 11/3/2016
Lethifer seems a little stunned to be recognized, but is gracious enough to accept a second glass of champagne after the first meets with a terrible end. He leans back in his chair as their table grows populous, contentedly sipping. His fabric sculptures have grown more involved as he steals a few from neighboring seats, and at one point he manages to send a white-winged moth soaring lazily across the table under its own power before it crumples to the floor near another table.
He peers at Appolonia’s delicate mask with more scrutiny. "I am difficulty," he admits. The wine has thickened his bizzare accent even further. "For the capital my guessing is a lady from a novel, which, alas, is not yet write. My twice propose is this of wild Carmilla, who hunts in sleep. But your early clue is infounding. Perhaps you are her fated bride, who is in sleep hunted." He spreads a glittering hand in lazy apology. "More as like, I am miss my mark."
The long fingers shift slightly, and he uses them to frame her together with Sapho in a jeweled canvas. "A perfect fated pair you make. Quickly, flower, to your tale. A dance cannot forever wait."
Appolonia turns to Mr. Lethifer, drawn first by the lovely white-winged fabric moth.
"Oh, how pretty! I had a dream I had moth wings once. Perhaps a costume for another year!"
Regarding her costume, she listens to his answer, and smiles brightly: "That is a marvelous and precisely accurate guess, sir! You have it exactly."
"From the serial novella Carmilla, yes. By Le Fanu. But if you did not read it in The Dark Blue in the 70s, nor have a copy of those editions of that magazine, you may be waiting for the version there are rumors will be published as a stand alone novella soon. Such a wonderful story! Well worth its own binding."
"But yes, the fated bride. Sleep hunted. Laura." She smiles.
An even brighter smile when he looks at her and Sapho together, framing them with his jeweled hands.
"I look forward to a dance with you, Mr. Lethifer. Or another token you may choose."
[quote=Lady Sapho Byron]Lord Byron’s ‘Vampyre’ laughs with delight. "It is not wisdom, sir, to throw yourself, with such casual abandon, on the mercy of an ‘unliving revenant found in penny dreadfuls.’ Still, as wine is not what I thirst for," she continues, cutting her eyes to Ms Von Ravenscroft at her side, "your ignorance is my boon. But your penance! What shall it be?" she asks, with a wicked twist on her grin.
"Ah!" the ‘Vampyre’ says with a snap of her fingers, an idea having sprung, "amuse and instruct us with a story about the follies of gambling and prevaricating!"[/quote]“No, I suppose trusting in the mercy of…ah, yes, Countess Karnstein is not especially wise. But what good has wisdom ever done me? And what is wisdom if not the death of stories?” As he talks, the Rose claps Lord Gazter on the back, proffering a glass, and another to the Violant Skull.
“No heroine ever need embark on her adventure if she already knows the moral. And no story I have witnessed ever came from a day prudently spent that went according to plan. If I may?” He flags down a Harried Maître D’ who adds extra chairs for the new guests.
“Indeed - aversion to wisdom has served me well. How else could I now tell this story?”