“Now that the excitement is over, perhaps we should all return to the ballroom?”
"of course I’m already gone" said the old man putting down the glasses and moving at a frightening and somewhat undignified speed
Captain Hieroymus Drake wears a dark frock coat tailored from thirsty bombazine with a matching waistcoat. However, he has departed from his usual conservatism in one regard: rather than pure white, his shirt and tie are ivory, a shade reminiscent of old bones. Over his suit he wears a mantle of Blue Prophet feathers, looming over his shoulders like a bank of stormclouds in the distance. Drake’s height and his rigidly perfect posture contribute to the forbidding aspect of his appearance. The heaviness of the effect, however, is leavened by the gleaming silver of the mantle’s broach, which depicts a pair of swallows in flight.
His mask is cunningly wrought from slate-grey metal in stark, vivid lines. It depicts the face of an angry old man, mouth open in a roar, beard rolling down in a flood of gnashing waves. The thick eyebrows tower like stormclouds above the wide, staring holes of the eyes.
At his side, the tall woman known as Dione of Argos is wearing a long evening gown reminiscent of her Greek heritage - a traditional Greek chiton, only equipped with sleeves in order to comply with the requirements of a London formal ball. The garment is woven from rippled whisper-silk in a color gradient from the dark grey of stormclouds at her shoulders to the white of sea-foam breaking just over the floor. The traditional wrap pinned on her right shoulder is made of some translucent apocyanic material, decorated in a Grecian pattern depicting the beasts of the seven seas. A silver laurel crown rests on her upswept midnight curls. A single curl, stubbornly refusing to stay in place, bounces off her shoulders and around her long silver earring.
Dione’s mask, compared to her companion’s dramatic visage, seems unspectacular, almost disappointingly plain. However, the monochromatic dark-grey mask reveals its secret when touched by the storm. Even a brush with Drake’s coat-sleeve is enough to discharge a brilliant shock of blue in the graphite sky. Dancing on the edge, branches of plasma fork through the mask and dazzle in an incandescent arc silently blustering. At the same time, the eyes of Drake’s mask flash with apocyanic lightning. And then, just as suddenly it appeared, Saint Elmo’s fire vanishes, leaving nothing but an Ocean heavy with clouds.
When Drake approaches his host, his posture relaxes, and he embraces Professor Kan like a brother. His voice, though made hollow and ringing by the mask, still comes out in a warm baritone. “Happy Christmas, old friend.”
With a glass of wine and without his companion Lord Gazter meanders his way over to and inspects this unexpected reptilian guest. He ponders on the creature for a moment, while he fiddles with his mask in order to take a sip of his wine. After having finally taken a sip and readjusted his mask Lord Gazter notices a familiar pair also observing the beast.
“Dirae and Evensong what a pleasant surprise. Back from your trip I presume?”
Iris arrives later than she’d planned to, only a bit of blood on her red velvet gown hinting at what the hold up had been. Her brown ringlets are for once not stuffed into a hat but instead bounce freely as she walks. Most of her mask matches her olive skin, except for around her eyes, where glittering red paint gives the appearance of Attar.
Iris heads to the drinks table for wine and to eavesdrop on conversations of the drunk.
[quote=Lord Gazter]With a glass of wine and without his companion Lord Gazter meanders his way over to and inspects this unexpected reptilian guest. He ponders on the creature for a moment, while he fiddles with his mask in order to take a sip of his wine. After having finally taken a sip and readjusted his mask Lord Gazter notices a familiar pair also observing the beast.
“Dirae and Evensong what a pleasant surprise. Back from your trip I presume?”[/quote]
"Ah, yes the trip was. . .lovely." Evensong sums up a novel in a sentence. "We have just returned. How has London been since we have been gone?"
OOC: excuse me for being vague on the trip, I still need to write up the rest of the honeymoon.
As August hears of the snake, he excuses himself from his current conversation and sneaks to the room where the snake had appeared to see if it was of a certain subspecies… He could catch those quite easily and as he put on his Cosmogone Shades, both as a warning and a threat to the snake should it be from said subspecies, he looked around. He didn’t manage to see the snake so he donned his mask again before sneaking back into the ballroom like nothing had happened. He rejoined the conversation he had left momentarily with Lady Byron and the Six Handed Merchant. “My apologies, did I miss anything?” He asked with his usual kind smile, his eyes looked around the room looking for Professor Sian, August had to ask him a couple questions later surrounding the incident. No Glassman leaves business with snakes up to chance.
"Things in London have been going swimmingly. Many new vissionaries in Veilgarden, new discoveries at Benthic, and affairs at court remain the same. I’m sure it is in no small part from our wonderful Lord Mayor"
OOC: No problem I just left it open in case you wanted to tease . :)
the old man returns to the party with his composir regained though visibly concerned at his lack of weaponry, he laughs and mingles with other guests with only slightly more twitchiness than normal. "so mr august I saw your glasses and wanted to ask you see I went to parabola a long time ago long story short the glass man accompanying me died I owe a debt to two cats and I am now in bandages, but I have a question what is the valley of serpents I spent a week in their but couldn’t figure it out."
edited by the old man on 12/17/2019
It is good to be here, thinks GregM as he walks into Cintamani House. GregM and Professor Siankan go far back—the Professor was a generous mentor when GregM first arrived in Fallen London, and a supportive friend when GregM went undercover as a Crooked Cross in a misguided attempt to end corruption. It had absolutely no impact. Not even the Masters got mad… or even noticed, aside from one amused note complimenting GregM on his “unusualicitous mecha-machination-states.”
But the Professor had taken GregM’s situation seriously, and helped extract him into the friendly embrace of the Midnighters, who engage in no covert activity whatsoever.
GregM stands in the foyer, drinking it all in. He spots several familiar faces— CathyR, and the delightful Six-Handed Merchant in some kind of octopus hat. A sentient octopus hat! GregM hurries over to greet Six; yes, GregM’s wearing a mask, but he’s also wearing a token of St. Joshua and has parked an Overgoat outside the mansion, so who else could it be? GregM offers a mushroom appetizer to Six, and another to Six’s hat.
Wait. Did he see CathyRaymond? Where was she? Was she here at all? Was that a weird, Nadir-esque flash of purple?
He bows to Siankan from across the room, and offers him a mysterious package, one of FL’s famous postal service packages that comes with a very good chance of getting something profitable, and only a tiny chance of a Starveling Cat.
GregM nods to the old man — possibly new to him, and—Catherine Raymond! What a surprise. GregM makes a mental note to greet her. Greet who? GregM knows there is irrigo somewhere. What was he talking about?
GregM greets the tigress. He thinks he may have met her at the Court of the Wakeful Eye. He’s returned several orphans to them, and will be quick to remind you that the tigers do not eat the orphans, they’re related. “A pleasure, er… Sian’s Tiger,” says GregM. “I was just at your Court. Have you been back recently? Would you like a vegetarian appetizer?”
Next up to greet, lxc and honey addict. And there was someone else here—Catherine Raymond, perhaps?
edited by GregM on 12/17/2019
Balkis growls. You’d think the impertinent human would know better than to tease a tiger.
Sian takes a moment to straighten his jacket. Drake’s embraces could wrinkle iron. Then he kisses Dione’s hand. "Madame, delighted to see you again." "Extraordinary!" adds Ondine, who has come over to greet her, in the French fashion.
Alas, he could only spend a moment with these two, as other guests were arriving. The woman in the attar-eyed mask is new to him, but he gives her a hearty welcome and a glass of Surface wine. His old American protege receives a hug, an in-joke or two, and a glass of that mushroom vintage he’d admired last time he was over for dinner. Anyone else new? Ah, that woman in the purple-amber frock. "Welcome! Welcome! So glad you could come."
Ixc and Nora watch the snake debacle unfold. A gentleman being disarmed, another surreptitiously surveying the snake, and a lady fainting in good fashion. And then there was some woman in a lovely red dress that had only a tiny blood stain on it. And some strange gaps in his memory. “All that over a snake?” Nora says. Ixc nods. “I hope he didn’t acquire it… that way. And something else is going on here. You feel a little strange? Like having little jolts of numbness as you look at the crowd?”
“Now that you mention it…”
“Yes. Someone likes their colors.” Ixc follows his half forgotten routines. He reaches for a sketchbook from one of his pockets, and as a forgotten period of time passes, he looks down at a completed sketch of a woman in a dream-flax dress. He assigns a made-up name and story to remember, to counter the irrigo. “You know, we should start from the top.” Nora says. “Our host. I’m interested in how you get a snake down here, and they might know what’s going on.”
“As am I.” They weave through the crowd, until they find the professor in conversation. Nora waits until the Professor is finished to speak. “I was just asking my companion how you can find such a beautiful snake down here. He’s only heard some strange rumors, of course, so I was hoping you could satisfy my curiosity.”
She curses herself silently. What a stupid idea to wear an irrigo-soaked dress to a party! she thinks. Just when she wanted to be seen, her very wardrobe makes it impossible!
Of course, she says to herself, I could go home and return wearing my Moderately-Cooperative Clothes Colony. That would make an impression! Yes, an impression liable to land me in New Newgate.
No, best to impress with personality alone. She approaches Professor Siankan again, vinous offering in hand. “Good evening, Professor! Good evening, all! Would anyone care to join me in a holiday toast with Greyfields’ finest beverage?”
"yes to our gracious host who I suspect is a little more gracious than he should be."
"And now I must call upon your sleuthing abilities, Six, and yours as well, August. It’s been claimed that there is at least one innocent at this party that must be protected from the likes of me (and you, for that matter). I’m rather dubious of that claim, but I should very much like to meet said person or persons if they are here. What can you discover?"
edited by Lady Sapho Byron on 12/18/2019
"La! You do not recognize me behind this mask? Has Ondine made so little impression on you? Well, I shall have to try harder tonight." [/quote]
"How foolish of me!" Lady Byron apologizes. "And I who pride myself on being so observant. I propose a pact: you try hard to make an impression on me tonight and I shall endevour to make best amends for my transgression."
[quote=Iris Sims]Iris arrives later than she’d planned to, only a bit of blood on her red velvet gown hinting at what the hold up had been. Her brown ringlets are for once not stuffed into a hat but instead bounce freely as she walks. Most of her mask matches her olive skin, except for around her eyes, where glittering red paint gives the appearance of Attar.
Iris heads to the drinks table for wine and to eavesdrop on conversations of the drunk.[/quote]
"I say," an elegantly slender red-head remarks to Iris whilst collecting a glass of wine, "what a splendid mask! It’s both seasonal and Neathy: nicely done!"
the old man walks away from the toast with a smile on his face but somewhat concerned as to why he made a toast on his own and is that irrigo he tastes on his tongue what is he missing what or indeed who has he forgotten, for the third time this night he regrets giving up his weaponry
edited by the old man on 12/18/2019
The youth whose mask is half young, half old walks up to the woman in the purple-amber frock. He presents to her two ostrich feathers, dyed violant. A woman (he will not be drawn on who, though guessing is not difficult) sent them as a gift. He is too well-bred to offer to tuck them into her mask-band himself, but would do so if asked.
[quote=Lord Gazter]"Things in London have been going swimmingly. Many new vissionaries in Veilgarden, new discoveries at Benthic, and affairs at court remain the same. I’m sure it is in no small part from our wonderful Lord Mayor"
OOC: No problem I just left it open in case you wanted to tease . :)[/quote]
Evensong glances over at Jolanda’s mask, before snapping back to attention. "I’m going to ask a private question. Are you surface or London born?"
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 12/18/2019
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 12/18/2019