Table Four at an 1894 Hallowmas Dinner Party

We have no rights, FBG is awesome, etc, etc, etc.

This is intended to be a moderately private, time-limited RP. The scene is a dinner at the NiteBrite’s Super-Chill Hallowmas Party (1894). What we’re looking to do is just have some fun RP-ing the dinner at Table Four. Mostly we’d like to keep it to people at the table, though if you wish to stop by and say ‘Hi’ to someone feel free to ask them and if they’re cool stop by – just keep it to a quick exchange. In real-life time we’ll likely go longer than NiteBrite’s party, I’d like to say two weeks, but if we feel we’re good earlier then we’re good.

We’re going to try to keep it all quick, light, airy, and conversational. I’d like us to bring out courses and push the evening onwards that way, I’ll advance the evening’s time by bringing out courses myself if no one else does. I’ll kick us of with an introduction for myself. I’d like Vavakx to get a chance for the next introduction. Then the other players can just jump in, and we’ll let stuff flow.

So, I think that covers it. There really aren’t any rules that matter beyond &quotIt’s just for fun,&quot and &quotIt’s a social even, be social.&quot
edited by absimiliard on 10/31/2016

The White Tiger arrives at the party accompanied by a Bird of Paradise. They wear a gown of parabolan silks dyed a shade of irrigo so dark as to appear black and embroidered in metallic threads with a bodice of leather-straps almost like a corset – and slit up the front so high that a flash of thigh can be seen above boots made from the skins of Fingerkings Absimiliard has slain. At their breast is a pin of a golden apple, and on their hands their fingertips glitter as mirrors – mirrors sharpened down to points.

Their mask is cunningly arranged so that the Curious Captain’s cosomogone spectacles are built into it – giving the mask glowing cat-eyes. The mask itself is striped in bold swathes of black and white, but is more evocative than concealing. There is however no question in anyone’s mind that it is Absimiliard under that mask – as if the dress was not enough of a give-away. The gown is very impressive, it knows it too.

The White Tiger strides over to Table Four where another figure has just arrived.

&quotVavakx!&quot Their voice is filled with pleasure, &quotIt’s been so long. Allow me to introduce … a Bird of Paradise.&quot Turning to the Bird the White Tiger offers, &quotThis maskless scoundrel is one of my oldest friends … rivals … well, whatever we are. Given how long they went never unmasked I can’t say as I blame them for giving one up now.&quot

Turning their face to extend a strong jawline and cheek for a buss – also exposing a deliciously bite-able neck, &quotCome, give us a kiss and tell me how you’ve been, and where, and why.&quot

In comparison to the White Tiger, the other figure is dressed much more conservatively. Their dress is an impossible light in it’s own man-made night. Cosmogone lines shine atop Thirsty Bombazine, and scale-like intrusions of Parabola-Linen carry a rosy luminescence of dreams. They arrive with a sound like a gust of wind rather than a human step, as ophidian boots soundlessly hit the pavement. Their eyes, green with shallow sleep. A bustling jungle on the other side of the iris, covered in silvered vines, and blooming roses, and a serpent, black-and-crimson-and-gold.

&quotA wonder, truly, meeting you here.&quot They coldly remark to the bird, smirking. &quotI am quite sure you feel the same.&quot Their expression grows to a warmer smile as they turn towards the White Tiger. &quotAnd greetings to you too, Rose…&quot An uncomfortable pause. &quot…Cat.&quot Their right hand waves away the Tiger’s suggestion. &quotBut, yes. Masks. You say I am maskless. I say we all wear masks.&quot Their hand touches their cheek, somewhat uncomfortably. &quotWe all wear faces, after all. Any other mask grows redundant, a portrait of a portrait. Even your mask, cat, does not depict you, but a certain perception, reflection, of you upon the conscience of others. A fact to be put upon the pedestal of public attention. I wear no masks but my own, and therefore highlight the complex nature of these relations, of these metaphysical reflections.&quot A light-hearted sigh. &quotPerhaps I’ve spent a bit too much among the ‘Editors’, cat. They do have quite the method to draw things out into mindless speech. Distract me from their mindless reverence and temperance, tell me: Why the bird?&quot

“Might the bird, as you say, not respond for herself?” the Bird of Paradise responds dryly. She is wearing a sleeveless dress of many colors over a black foundation, with long feathers from one side up to her shoulder.

Her mask is a cruel beak, also feathered. Her auburn hair is tightly pulled back and braided, then coiled on the back of her head.

She curtsies to the unmasked stranger, then resumes, “Philosophically, one might argue that there is a great difference between one’s face and a mask - one might be shed or changed at will, while the other is more difficult to shed. But perhaps you were speaking of the tendency of some to believe they can withhold their true nature from the understanding of others? I would hazard that the clay men have a particularly interesting viewpoint on this matter.” She smiles, then turns to the cat, “But perhaps I have interrupted an established conversation between the two of you?”

&quotYes,&quot a hoarse voice intones, &quotMasks and faces, terribly exciting. My, awfully posh, aren’t we all?&quot
The Mirthless Colonist slowly walks up to the table, a large ornate goblet in his left hand, a bottle of stolen wine in his right. The guests at table eleven jeer at him, angry looks are directed at his back, he ignores it all. The man himself -as close as a Tomb-Colonist can get to being a man, anyways- is dressed unusually dull. A neat, brown overcoat is draped over his shoulders, the buttoned shirt underneath pitch black. His bowler hat and shoes share the same hue of black, but mirror-polished to perfection and reflection both. In fact, the only jewellery on him today is a simple rostygold ring worn on a small chain around his neck.
He was dressed dully. Bandages, however, do not constitute dress- his polythremic linen, as he always wore, quivers cheerily, adorned with small bright ribbons in hues of marmalade, purple, and the kind of scarlet that some would consider indecent was it worn on a more, ah, revealing kind of clothing. He wore not only ribbons- small bells cheerily jangled from loose ends, poking out all across his body, making a shrill noise, as if to be a constant reminder that he was dressed beyond the point of ridiculousness.
&quotHang on, that was quite unfriendly of me. Give me a few minutes while I digest the contents of this goblet. Yes, we can still digest things. Tell me, how’ve you been doing, lovelies?&quot
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 10/31/2016
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 11/1/2016

A red-haired woman sits quietly at the table, cleaning beneath her fingernails with a skyglass knife. Her suit is dark - but not the blackness of thirsty bombazine. A surface dye. A scar crosses just over her right eye, marring her unmasked face.

She looks up idly at the mention of ‘awful poshness’.

&quotSounds like my employer. Always one to insist on a dress, no matter the occasion. Swears by a whalebone corset for physical activity. I suppose if one is lucky enough to no longer have to do fieldwork…&quot

The Mirthless Colonist snorts. &quotWhat a larf. I’ll tell you, I’ve done my fair share of field work in dresses, they can be very useful when you need emergency tissues, or handkerchiefs, or rags. Oh, where are my manners, this is a masked occassion, isn’t it?&quot
He produces a crude, wooden mask from his overcoat, decorated with bright patterns of blue, red, and green around the eyes. From its nose, a carefully-engraved ring hangs; from that ring, another.
(Drawing with estimation of mask’s aesthetics to be provided soon.)

&quotSo, what is it you do for a living then? I’m going to say, oh, what about pirate-hunter!&quot the Mirthless Colonist snickers at that. &quotCould you imagine? A pirate hunter in a dress? No, but really, what is it you do for a living?&quot
As Lady Ingram responds, the colonist tilts his head and stares at nothing in particular for a few brief moments, before looking back at Evangeline, &quotBy the sound of it, those toffs at table eleven are wanting to avenge their bottle of wine. This is bound to be fun.&quot

A shambling and graceless orang-ootang lurches into the seat labelled “Malthaussen” and begins a diligent study of the crockery and silver. After nibbling a bit on a dinner roll, he lobs it at the occupants of table Four, who are deeply involved in some conspiracy or other. The words “Food Fight!” are distinctly heard.

((x-post from Table Two thread))

&quotA bit of this, a bit of that. Ratcatcher, ring-fighter, tour guide to bugsby’s marshes, and sometime catspaw of a truly insufferable Midnighter. She can’t come, so instead she sends an agent to attend a party for her?&quot

She rolls her eyes. &quotShe’s instructed me to tell you all to call me Thorn, but bugger that for a lark. I’m Soph. Pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.&quot

Soph casually spears the thrown roll out of the air with her knife, and shakes her head at the intruding monkey. &quotReally? Not a smart idea in this company, I would say.&quot
edited by Evangeline Ingram on 11/1/2016

&quotDear, this tendency towards utter secrecy you mention lays at the core of London society…&quot They begin their reply to the Bird of Paradise, as bread flies by at a dangerously short distance from their befanged top hat. A grazing shot. They dust off and adjust their aforementioned headwear, glancing at their opposition. A shout. &quotBring out the side dishes! If this primate wishes to fight, then we will give it what it wants!&quot Their hand slams upon the table. The maskless individual rises, a bowl of mushroom salad in hand, already preparing to fling fungus upon the monkey. A wicked grin plays upon their face.
edited by Vavakx Nonexus on 11/1/2016

Edward Frye comes, wearing a clay man mask, a dark suit, and a top hat (OOC: I have a description of my appearance here
&quotHello everyone! How are… what are you two doing?&quot He says looking at the monkey and the fingerking.
edited by Edward Frye on 11/1/2016

&quotThe Despicable Simian over there…&quot They point towards the impish figure over at Table Two, whilst holding a fistful of food. &quotHas dared to assault my headgear with a thrown dinner roll. And an already bitten one, might I add, covered in saliva and other unpleasant substances. It deserves punishment for it’s misdeeds upon the dinner and coffee house in general!&quot Their voice rises to a scream, and an unlucky batch of cut mushrooms leaves their hands for the ape at Table Two.

The Bird of Paradise, steps back, out of the line of fire, glancing at the White Tiger, then at the unmasked man throwing the bowl at the ape. She gasps and takes another step backward, then examines her dress for any damage before asking no one in particular, “Must you engage in such unpleasantness? Surely there are more interesting and engaging pursuits to select!” She turns so that she is now facing those seated at table four, “I am quite pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Soph, and you as well gentlemen.” She nods to each in turn, “Tonight I shall be Rose, in both bloom and thorns.” She spares another glare at the monkey and the unmasked stranger.

The ape at table two lets out a roar. &quotMonkey? You dare insult my species?&quot Instantly, a handful of arugula from the salad is airborne in the direction of Rose.

– Mal

Soph leans aside from the unlucky fistful of arugula, and decides that her mobility would be less hampered if she were not sitting. Correspondingly, she stands. Looking to Rose, she nods. &quotLikely for the best I’m not going by Thorn, then. I’d hate to confuse the other guests.&quot

[quote=malthaussen]The ape at table two lets out a roar. &quotMonkey? You dare insult my species?&quot Instantly, a handful of arugula from the salad is airborne in the direction of Rose.

– Mal[/quote]
-(Posted from Table Four)

The Mirthless Colonist stares on at the fracas impertinently for a while, biscuits and morsels are flung both-ways throughout the room, guests join or take cover, or try to ignore this outburst of deranged stupidity and immaturity.
Finally, something cracks in the Mirthless Colonist. Literally, that is. A stuffed crab-claw hits him right on the mask, leaving a nasty split through the right eye. Carefully, he takes off his mask and puts it on the table in front of him, puts his wine-bottle on the floor, and empties out his goblet.

Now, he throws over his chair and pulls a derringer! He stares at the ape and empties the derringer’s cilinder into the ceiling above it. The sound is deafening, and the room quietens as white dust and small ceiling-debris settle on Malthaussen’s figure. As all attention is upon him, the Mirthless Colonist gracefully picks his chair up and stands it at the table, sits, wipes his mask off, and puts it back on.
&quotNow,&quot he continues, &quotWhere were we?&quot
The food fight continues, and several laughs are thrown in the humiliated ape’s direction.
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 11/1/2016
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 11/1/2016

A satisfied smile replaced the wicked grin. The critter has begun shooting cuisine at the other end of the table, at the Bird, who accused them. They take their seat. With a move of the wrist, the bowlful of ammunition slides to the other side of the table, towards the Bird of Paradise. &quotYou’ll need it more than I.&quot They quietly say to themselves, before raising their voice for proper speech. &quotI do suppose I should introduce myself. You may call me Vavakx Nonexus, and to go along with the peculiar theme in names we are experiencing now, the Light.&quot They could’ve called themselves the Serpent, of course. Or Amets. But that’d simply be callous. If anyone needed to know who they are, they would. This is not the sort of knowledge to feed to the masses. Their lips assume a passive smile.

Soph claps twice in the quiet after the gunshots.

&quotYes, yes, let’s escalate the food fight to a gunfight, that’s a wonderful idea. It’s not as if this room isn’t filled with the sorts of people who participated in the Underground Leagues. It’s not as if our hostess knows ingenious tricks with a pair of tailor’s shears. Can we all please act like civil individuals?&quot

[quote=malthaussen]The ape at table two lets out a roar. &quotMonkey? You dare insult my species?&quot Instantly, a handful of arugula from the salad is airborne in the direction of Rose.

((ooc: She never spoke to you or about you. ))

The Bird of Paradise dodges the missile thrown at her, then steps over to the White Tiger, “I must say my farewells. Please do express my regrets to our hostess.” She glances over at table 4 and nods her head in a brief farewell, then turns and quickly leaves the room.