Greycoin leans in and listens attentively.
"Well as you may have heard earlier during my little outburst, this is not my natural accent. On the surface I was not a minor noble, I was a con man. Good at pretending to be a member of the uppercase to get people to trust me. I was successful for many years at hiding behind these false identities. but eventually everyones luck runs out, and to escape the constables I decided on London. I made my way down to the Neath to continue my tricks. I assumed a fake title of nobility and started to write as a cover. I assumed I could perhaps work my way into the Shuttered Palace make off with some significant chunk of jewelry or some such to pay for my expenses for a time. i had done it before many times. But when I wrote I was successful. I could become rich and live a life of comfort without needing to steal and con. I no longer needed to pass myself of as wealthy, I was wealthy. But it was under this new name this fake identity. If I am discovered I could lose everything. All it takes is one person to discover my lies and I am undone. I should make of with as much as I can, as was my original plan. But I have everything I ever desired here. I can not bring myself to abandon it all. An so I am stuck in this purgatory, unsure of what to do. I almost find it funny. This con man has lost his confidence."
Stopping to catch his breath he looks at the rest of the table with a sad grin. "So I guess the question is, who is next?"
[li]
edited by Sajach on 11/2/2016[/li][li]
edited by Sajach on 11/2/2016
"I’ll be next," said the woman in pale green, "provided you will pour some of that mushroom wine for me. Unlike our American friend," she said, nodding in the direction of Eleonor Donegal, "I have learned to enjoy mushroom wine."
After a few sips, she continued. "I call myself ‘Lady’ Catherine Raymond, but in truth, I have no idea whether I’m noble or not. Probably not; I woke in a New Newgate cell with a pounding headache and no idea of where I had come from, what I’d been on the Surface, or even why I had a headache! I might be noble, but more likely someone coshed me over the head because they fancied I’d make good merchandise for the white slave trade. Anyway, having made it to the Neath, I sought to make a name for myself in a variety of pursuits. First, by stealing the largest gem ever; that effort long since stalled, as it brought me no end of heartache. It also showed me that a simple orphanage could be a respectable nest of horrors. So I decided I could do better; I founded my own Orphanage! That, unfortunately, has done in my hopes of amassing wealth; even with scams and thievery, I can barely continue to meet my expenses and theirs. Worse, the place has become a veritable finishing school for young criminals, who will probably do better in life than I!"
A pause. Another few sips. Then: "One night, very late, I started to ponder why there is so much misery in the Neath. It occurred to me that it is because our life here is underpinned by a great act of treachery–the act that made Mr. Eaten…what he now is."
"Yes, I have recently started to Seek the Name. Seeking the Name, and perchance becoming part of his great revenge on those who betrayed him, has given meaning and purpose to my life. I will need to arrange that the orphanage continues to operate when I leave London to go North, and it may take me years to do so, but ultimately I will do so."
She stops, abruptly, as though some clockwork deep inside her had run down. "I hope we are all in agreement that tonight’s Confessions should not leave this table. I find I don’t care whether my poor deceits are bruited about London; sooner or later, the Name I seek will force me to leave behind all concern for reputation, propriety, and even safety and sanity. But I would hate to see our friend Sajach compromised because, in a moment of seasonal fellowship, he decided to trust us."
I suppose that I’ll go next. My tale is, sadly, far less dramatic. I’ve no titles, credible or otherwise, and while I came below after a lost love, it was all really because I was so dreadfully unhappy.
When I first came here, poor and lonely and frightened, a kind devil bought me dinner. Well, I say ‘kind’, but you know what I mean. I let him continue buying me dinner for quite some time, until we were quite well acquainted. Then, one night he asked for my soul - and he was ever so polite about it! He held my hand and looked into my eyes and said "please"quot. I said no, of course. I kept saying no, for months. But he made me feel like my lost love had done, once, and I couldn’t hold out forever. I said yes. He took my soul and put it in a fine jar. And he smiled at me, still so kindly. The dinners stopped, after that.
The truth of it is that I was so much… not ‘happier’, but less ‘unhappy’, without my soul. Certainly, there was no real joy, but there was no pain, or guilt, or loneliness either. I tried to emulate the emotions, dance the dance until I became the movement; sing until I became song. It didn’t truly work.
Sometime later, I saw my soul in its fine jar in a drunk’s pocket. I drank it down, until I could feel again - that awful feeling that makes one want dig one’s fingers under their ribs and PULL.
With those feelings came the realization that with my beloved was the last place I’d been happy. That’s how I ended up avenging my them. All that blood, and madness, and I thought it would make me feel better.
It really, truly, didn’t.
So I sold my soul again. Traded it for a rather nice set of dice. Since then, I’ve dedicated myself to fulfilling hell’s will in the Neath.
I only wish it wasn’t so d___ned bureaucratic.
edited by pillbox on 11/2/2016
edited by pillbox on 11/2/2016
edited by pillbox on 11/2/2016
[quote=Sajach]"Who knows perhaps now that we are no longer constantly distracting the maitre d’, he can come over and bring more seats to this table to accommodate. It would be nice to have the servers assisting instead of threatening us."[/quote]When you notice the Harried Maître D’ standing behind Sajach, his face looks on the verge of an apoplectic fit - as though you were about to hear him say, "And it would be nice if the guests weren’t unleashing ferrets, airborne entrées, bullets, and - worst - poor manners."
But you don’t, and he doesn’t.
Instead, he deposits chairs behind the new guests with a wounded look, then glides away.
Greycoin waits for the Maitre D to leave and makes sure there are no interlopers listening in, only these tablemates.
Greycoin’s voice is a raspy whisper, it is always that, but even more so that you must listen carefully and the voice could not possibly be heard beyond this table.
Looking at Pillbox, “I told ya once dat it seems we ‘ave common interests and yer tale ‘as echoes in my own, but I’ll get ta dat in a bit.”
“I grew up on da streets of a city – my world was very small. Life was survival – findin’ scraps and bits of tossed away food ta avoid starvin’. Keepin’ anyone from noticin’ ya – dat was survival. Dere is always someone bigger or meaner – who’d kill ya or worse if dey caught ya.”
“I don’t know if it was always Neath or not, cities seem da same in da dark of da night. I know dere are gaps in my memories – maybe dere are moments dat I don’t want ta remember or maybe I drank a certain tea – ‘ow would I know.”
“But I caught a particularly talented Araby weasel and ‘e was so good in da fights, dat I started ta actually accumulate enough coin, ta be able ta seek more coin in finer locations. Respectability is a key ta many doors, far better den a lockpick.”
“So I started ta explore and dat is when I met ‘er, a Quiet Deviless with yellow eyes. She was everything ta me. And I would do anything fer ‘er. And everything I do is still in pursuit of ‘er. But dere’s never enough urchins or wine or souls, but I still believe dat one day we’ll dance again and I’ll do whatever it takes ta get ta dat day.”
Sajach glances around the table looking at each confessor briefly before speaking. “Well that was nice to get out of my system. Hopefully no one decides to spill anothers secrets. It would be terribly unseasonal.”
Vena accepts her glass of surface wine from Greycoin with barely-restrained delight. "You are a miracle worker, darling." She sips the drink, closes her eyes, shivers, and lets out a longing sigh of forgotten pleasure as the rich red liquid works its way soothingly down her throat.
[quote=Ginneon Thursday]
Instead, he deposits chairs behind the new guests with a wounded look, then glides away.[/quote]
Vena sends him a smouldering smile, just on the decorous side of flirtatious, in appreciation for his efforts.
She turns back to her new companions. She flicks a lock of hair away from her face, her expression giving every sign of merriment."So… we have a pretend-noble, a perhaps-noble, and a true noble. That is something I have never tried before."
She takes another sip and her demeanour turns sympathetic. "I am so sorry for the pain and losses all of you have endured. I do hope your find some happiness with your infernal friends and paramours, Pilbox and Creycoin. I may keep a tight grip on my own soul, but I do believe that a future with devils is a brighter thing than what the Church preaches."
She turns to the woman in green. "And while what I know about Seekers makes me believe that you will never find happiness in the quest, I do dearly hope that you will at least find purpose, and satisfaction."
Lastly she turns to the beleaguered con-man. "Don’t worry, Sajach, your secret is safe with us, well me, I can’t speak for anyone else. But, if it is any consolation, shortly after my arrival here, I read one of your books, and I found it quite delightful. With a little help from friends, I am sure you could live quite the delicious life here as the new you free from the watchful eyes of the law, a man perhaps not of noble blood, but certainly noble spirit."
“I think, perhaps, another round of drinks is in order. Something stronger, this time.”
She pulls an opaque clay bottle from her bag.
“Fourth City Airag - been fermenting since time immemorial. It will either render us delightfully insensate, or it may well kill us all. Cheers, to each of us, our own confessors!”
The cork is poped, and a bit of the sour-smelling drink is poured into each glass.
Vena takes a small amount in her glass. She sniffs it cautiously and winces. "Ugh, this stuff could put a clay man under the table."
She echoes Pilbox’ cheer, but pauses as the room goes quiet.
Vena turns in her seat to see their hostess, the BriteModiste herself, rise at table 1 to raise a heartfelt cheer for the guests that have turned up for this delightful occasion. As she finises, the young serpent-masked lady raises her glass towards their hostess, her green eyes sparkle and a sly smile at her lips. "To London, to Hallowmas, to all of us, but most of all to the BriteModiste, a hostess of singular grace and peerless tastes."
(echoed from here - http://community.failbettergames.com/topic23497-table--at-an--hallowmas-party.aspx?MessageID=172855#post172855)
edited by Akernis on 11/2/2016
You hear the sound of a gong, seemingly emanating from everywhere (you suspect a clever cook with a very large soup pot). A space on the floor has been cleared, and a nervous looking string quartet begins to play.
(The dance floor is now open in a separate thread to anyone who wishes to dance)
edited by pillbox on 11/2/2016
[quote=pillbox]You hear the sound of a gong, seemingly emanating from everywhere (you suspect a clever cook with a very large soup pot). A space on the floor has been cleared, and a nervous looking string quartet begins to play.
(The dance floor is now open to anyone who wishes to dance)[/quote]
At the break of the dance, the Mirthless Colonist silently walks up to the Lady Pillbox, and offers her his hand,
"If I recall correctly, I requested a dance."
Greycoin smiles at Pillbox, “Fourth City Airag, my favorite – Dis will be an evenin’ of wine and souls, indeed!”
After drinking a hearty sip and participating in the toast to the much appreciated hostess, Greycoin shifts position to get a better view of the dance floor, muttering “I didn’t know dere would be dancin’.”
To Vena, "I appreciate yer well wishes fer my plans. I 'ope whatever you desire comes to you as well."
edited by Jo Greycoin on 11/2/2016
edited by Jo Greycoin on 11/2/2016
edited by Jo Greycoin on 11/3/2016
[quote=Infinity Simulacrum][quote=pillbox]You hear the sound of a gong, seemingly emanating from everywhere (you suspect a clever cook with a very large soup pot). A space on the floor has been cleared, and a nervous looking string quartet begins to play.
(The dance floor is now open to anyone who wishes to dance)[/quote]
At the break of the dance, the Mirthless Colonist silently walks up to the Lady Pillbox, and offers her his hand,
"If I recall correctly, I requested a dance."[/quote]
Pillowbox takes the offered hand.
"So you did."
[quote=pillbox][quote=Infinity Simulacrum][quote=pillbox]You hear the sound of a gong, seemingly emanating from everywhere (you suspect a clever cook with a very large soup pot). A space on the floor has been cleared, and a nervous looking string quartet begins to play.
(The dance floor is now open to anyone who wishes to dance)[/quote]
At the break of the dance, the Mirthless Colonist silently walks up to the Lady Pillbox, and offers her his hand,
"If I recall correctly, I requested a dance."[/quote]
Pillowbox takes the offered hand.
"So you did."[/quote]
He takes her hand with care, as if it were delicate scintillack, and puts his other hand on her waist.
The first dance, a waltz, Strauss.
They’re the leading pair, they glide across the floor, steps and breaths synchronous and even. She is the very height of poise and grace, he is humbleness itself, and executes his moves perfectly complimentary to hers. Simple boxes, a chassé, a lock, impetus, and a well-timed fleckerl at the centre of the room, as they’d do above in Vienna, "The marseillaise of the heart", he whispers into her ear. The song draws toward its coda, the steps linger more, the positioning of his arms become less polite, and more affectionate, he leans her in closer than would be appropriate, and at the conclusion dips her scandalously deep. People clap from all directions.
"I feel like I’m a hundred-and-fifty again! Marvellous, marvellous. You know how to dance, I’ll grant you that.
Perhaps another dance, later?"
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 11/2/2016
[quote=Infinity Simulacrum][quote=pillbox][quote=Infinity Simulacrum][quote=pillbox]You hear the sound of a gong, seemingly emanating from everywhere (you suspect a clever cook with a very large soup pot). A space on the floor has been cleared, and a nervous looking string quartet begins to play.
(The dance floor is now open to anyone who wishes to dance)[/quote]
At the break of the dance, the Mirthless Colonist silently walks up to the Lady Pillbox, and offers her his hand,
"If I recall correctly, I requested a dance."[/quote]
Pillowbox takes the offered hand.
"So you did."[/quote]
He takes her hand with care, as if it were delicate scintillack, and puts his other hand on her waist.
The first dance, a waltz, Strauss.
They’re the leading pair, they glide across the floor, steps and breaths synchronous and even. She is the very height of poise and grace, he is humbleness itself, and executes his moves perfectly complimentary to hers. Simple boxes, a chassé, a lock, impetus, and a well-timed fleckerl at the centre of the room, as they’d do above in Vienna, "The marseillaise of the heart", he whispers into her ear. The song draws toward its coda, the steps linger more, the positioning of his arms become less polite, and more affectionate, he leans her in closer than would be appropriate, and at the conclusion dips her scandalously deep. People clap from all directions.
"I feel like I’m a hundred-and-fifty again! Marvellous, marvellous. You know how to dance, I’ll grant you that.
Perhaps another dance, later?"
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 11/2/2016[/quote]
(OOC - Xposted to table 4. I did up a forum thread for the dance floor, thought it would keep things tidy.)
Pillbox laughs.
"Such charm, I am surprised! It truly has been a delight and I would certainly enjoy another dance later in the evening. Perhaps you might even enjoy a drink with table eleven. A solicited one."
Pillbox laughs.
"Such charm, I am surprised! It truly has been a delight and I would certainly enjoy another dance later in the evening. Perhaps you might even enjoy a drink with table eleven. A solicited one."
He bows deeply, accidentally shaking one of his bandage-bells off in the process.
"I’m always happy to enjoy alcoholic beverages at others’ expense." A snarky and mischievous tone is in his voice,
"I’ll now refresh myself briefly, however. Bandages aren’t really fit for dancing, I’ll spare you the teasing details of being a Tomb-Colonist."
He makes another bow, places his forehead against the palm of her hand -an act which, in the Tomb-Colonies, is done as to avoid having to uncoil bandages about the mouth-region- and briefly excuses himself.
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 11/2/2016
OOC - since you have made dedicated thread for the dance floor, shouldn’t such a dance be taken there? Otherwise people won’t know that there is dancing going on.
OOC - that was my intent, but I guess my announcement post was unclear. Have since fixed it.
[li]Eleonor watches the dance floor and raises an empty glass in toast. "Ah, then its me. Its a doubled deception of which I’m guilty, if you want to know the truth. I’m an addled academe to most who know me, but an ardent adherent of the Cause to the rest." She rests head in hand. "Perfect, no? A Progressive Suffragist, well placed as an academic ringleader, to nurture and develop the minds of the Revolution. And in my early days here, I can assure you, I was indeed a loyal insurrectionist. Until the Lacre-vision." Her brow knits. "And what a vision. The possible fruit of my Revolution? Thomas Hobbes State of Nature, wrought in endless night! No fine Utopia where the vulnerable and exploited are granted freedoms, but a brutal culling of the same by savage beasts in human shape, so ruthless as to shame even the most brutal of the Neath’s animal kingdom. And my contribution to this world? Feeble maintenance of a civilized moiety in the dark." She sneers "Gone, my high-minded idealism, replaced with a stubborn dedication to undermining the Cause from the place I’ve carved for myself." She glowers, "There are worse things than those which rule us now, and I mean to disrupt their coming, though I can’t be sure of how."