Marn Restoration Gala - Ascension

[Navarre]

May 20, 122PW

Back when she was a child, once she and her brothers finished their daily chores, her father would call them around his chair near the fireplace and tell them a story. Even though she had plenty of books as a girl, she loved her father's stories most of all. He knew just what she wanted to hear and created fanciful tales to indulge her imagination. There was nothing she loved more than curling up on the rug with her stuffed bear and slowly drifting to sleep while her father spoke of dashing knights and beautiful princesses, of magical kingdoms with golden castles and streets lined with gemstones. Her brothers loved his stories well enough, but she doubted they ever understood their purpose. A farmer's sons would die farmers, and a farmer's daughter would waste away in a kitchen in between bearing child after child. Her father knew he couldn't save his children from their fates, but at least they could dream of a better world, a world of limitless possibilities.

A world forever beyond their reach.

Centuries of life taught her such a fantastical world was just that – fantasy. No matter how many times she changed bodies, moved to a better, more fulfilling life, the world around her remained as filthy as ever, plagued by the sloth and ignorance of those who lived in it. She was tired of hiding herself behind a false smile to appease the dregs of society. Any proper gardener knows a flower cannot flourish in a garden filled with thorns and weeds. And at long last, she would soon be in the position to do some overdo yard work.

“Navarre, the guests have begun to arrive.”

Navarre rose from her seat at the bureau, smiling to herself. Tonight was her first audience with Marn, so she had to look her best. Isyrion was a beautiful girl, yes, but Navarre needed a new appearance to celebrate the occasion. Her hair, now as snow white as her skin, flowed to her bare shoulders in fine waves. She'd ordered a new outfit especially for the gala – a crimson dress embroidered with black designs of vines and flowers, elbow-length black gloves, and a matching bow. Nothing remained of Isyrion. Navarre was complete.

Turning, she walked over to Alexander, who was dressed in his finest suit. It reminded her of when they would go to all the faculty parties together when she was inhabiting Madelynne. As handsome as he was, his looks were fading in his old age. She had tried to convince him to transfer into his son, but he cared too much for the boy to accept, even though they weren't on the best terms. Still, he was too useful an ally to leave behind. Perhaps she would find a vessel for him once she finished with her affairs in Marn. Until then, however, she needed him to control the Marquelis family.

“I'm ready to meet with them. Where is Ashleigh?”

“He's waiting for you at the table,” Alexander said, raising a hand defensively when he saw her face sour. “I reminded him this morning that he was to accompany you, but he must have forgotten. I doubt anyone will pay it any mind.”

“I suppose you're right,” Navarre said, her expression softening. “You haven't told anyone about Modestine yet, have you? I don't want the news floating around before I have a chance to formally announce it, otherwise it will lose its impact.”

Alexander shook his head. “Nobody outside of the committee knows. The Guard is aware, though I'm not sure they're buying that Paragon had a hand in it. Feel free to connect it with the insurrection, but I'd avoid making any concrete claims.”

“You carved 'liar' into his stomach and shoved a dagger in his throat. How could they not see a connection?” Navarre sighed. “Though I can't say I'm surprised – the Guard is infested with dwarves, gnomes, and the like. They wouldn't dream of cooperating with me without a direct order.” She recalled that eavesdropping guard from the hospital and made a mental note to be more careful in their presence... for the time being.

“I'm sure public opinion will sway their minds after tonight,” Alexander said, smiling reassuringly and offering his hand. “Shall we head to the table? We shouldn't keep everyone waiting.”

The auditorium was as magnificent as she hoped. She had told Abernathy to spare no expense with the decorations, and it showed – ice sculptures, marble statues, carpets and tablecloths imported from Corezo. At the center of the auditorium stood a massive buffet table, soon to be covered with the most delicious and exotic foods bishani could buy. Calder had flinched when they went over the expenses, but after tonight expenses would be irrelevant. Their committee would be a hand of the government, and she would be one step closer to creating a world worthy of her presence. But that depended on how well tonight went over.

Navarre's eyes fell on Ashleigh Marquelis, the “head” of her enforcers and date for the evening, as she approached her table. He looked handsome enough with his boyish features and fancy suit, but his annoyed, sulking expression would leave a bad impression. Smiling at party-goers as she walked, she leaned in close to Alexander and whispered in his ear: “If your son fucks this up for me, I'll be using his cock as a sock puppet.”

Alexander nodded. “Duly noted.”

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel walked up the front doors of the auditorium. The Gala was to take place within, but he could already smell the food and the bishani in the pockets of the rich folk, the latter of which was to Jacel by far the more appealing aroma. He tapped his cane twice on the ground; it was a fancy, glistening rod with a gilded top. His dull, light blue longcoat rustled in the wind, and Jacel pulled it about himself. The evening was rather chilly.

Mioco appeared out from behind him, her small, wispy frame not making so much as a sound upon the cobblestone. She wore a small blue blouse which might have her mistaken for some noble’s servant. Unfortunately for her, the elven owner of a lower-class bar was the closest she was going to get.

He motioned for her to follow him with a wholly unneeded wave of his hand. His slow, limping gait was often overtaken by her light skips, and she was forced to wait for him every few moments. When they reached the front doors, it was quite apparent the little girl was bored. She was, however, unwilling to approach the large doorman. For his size, he seemed friendly enough, with a distant stare and smile.

Jacel walked up to him, letting his cane clank to snap the man out of his reverie. Mioco squirreled up behind him, practically hiding behind his girth.

“Two of you?” The doorman said curtly, “Twenty bishani or invitations, please.”

“Of course,” Jacel reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a little bag. Undoing the clasp, his ungainly fingers fumbled for a moment before success. He shot the guard an embarrassed smile as he handed off the coin.

The big man smiled understandingly as he received the money. He waved the pair in as he said, “Looks good to me. Enjoy yourselves.”

The pair walked in, Mioco still clutching the end of his coat as if she were his daughter. He reached back behind him and put a hand around her shoulder, pushing her forward to look down into her eyes. He leaned over slightly, though not overmuch on account of his weight.

“You know your job, my little dearest.” Jacel told her quietly, letting his gaze wander into the greathall. “Go on and snoop, and try to keep your fingers from their pockets.”

A wicked little grin overtook her seemingly naïve face as she scampered off to mingle amidst the aristocracy. Jacel beamed after her as she went, feeling oddly proud, and he moved off to greet some people he had long intended to meet.

[Talia Idris]

Talia stood at the edge of the room, eyeing the floor as if she was inspecting it. Every so often she looked up and glanced quickly around the room before dropping her gaze again. She was starting to regret her choice to come tonight, at least on her own. She didn't expect to feel so out of place in such a large gathering of the elites of Marn and those who wished to rise in the ranks. She of course was neither, her purpose for attending the Gala was for a whole other reason.

Her hand reached up to her throat as she gentle touched the ruby around her neck. For the occasion she had taken it off the long chain that normally hid the jewel from sight. Instead it was strung onto a cream coloured ribbon that matched the ones that she had woven in the braided ringlet around her head, the rest of her hair falling gently down to her hips in soft waves - the effects of it constantly being in a braid.

No, she was not here to advance her position, or find a husband like Bepa had suggested when she had given Talia the night off to attend the Gala. From what her adoptive parents had told her, her ruby was an heirloom that her mother had taken with her when she got married and was kicked out of her home. And while Talia had no real love for the people who would disown their own daughter she did want to know about her past, where she came from. Perhaps tonight someone would recognize the ruby and be able to tell her who she was, that is if she didn't get accused of stealing it first.

Talia lowered her hand and raised her chin as she slowly started to circle the room, nodding or smiling at people as she passed. She might as enjoy the evening and make the most of it. After all she had spent 10 bishani to attend as well as another small sum for the supplies to make the dress she was wearing. It would be all be a waste if she just stood in a corner and sulked all night.

[Ryoko]

Tonight was the prefect chance for Ryoko to get closer to those in a higher standing than she was herself. This would also be her first time going to one of these without the Cottrel's help. In some ways she was delighted that she could get close to others but worried she would say something or do something out of line that would make her look bad. Going to these where still hard on her, since she spent most of her time working.

For tonight Ryoko decided to wear a beaded single strap dress. For some reason her coral dress seemed right for the party tonight. She did like how it was beaded around the bodice and shirred. This was one of Ryoko's more elegant dresses, she only wished she had more opportunity to wear it. Still she felt like it was a great choice for tonight was walked with pride to the main doors of the building.

When she reached the doors the two man waiting there greeted her with kindness," Good evening miss, do you have an Invitation for tonight?'"

Ryoko smiled as she handed them the invitation, "here you are kind Sir" she said. Ryoko was glad she decided to walk holding it. She didn't like the idea of her embarrassing herself looking for it in her bag.

The doorman smiled after reading the invitation as the other one open the door for her. Once the door open Ryoko could hear the sound of people talking to each other as music played in the back ground. Before walking in she rubbed her hands on her dress to get the wrinkles out of it that where not there.

After she walked in the doors closed behind her as she looked at the people talking to each other. As she looked around she noticed a young girl was here. smiling to herself she started to walk over to one of the groups of people.

[Jevan]

"You're frowning, dear."

Jevan glanced sideways at his wife, whose own expression was so pleasant he could only assume she was high. Except he knew that she wasn't, because if she had partaken in something before they left she would have offered to share. And she hadn't.

"That's not much of an improvement."

This time he didn't look down at her. Dear, dear Dedenia. If it wasn't for her he could have faked an illness and dodged the gathering altogether. He had just bid evening to his new magistrate earlier in the day; he'd no desire to mix social pleasures with business. Not that week. It had been a bad week. Dedenia, for her part, was no doubt wearing that telling little smile that said something along the lines of 'you're so predictable,' to which he inevitably replied with a quiet snort and the equivalent of 'this was not my idea.'

They had stopped first beside one of Dedenia's musician friends -- fifth chair violin in the theater's orchestra, smashing good fellow with the most deplorable hangers on the city had ever seen -- and that had gone well. Particularly when said fellow had made an inappropriate comment about the second chair viola's husband, and Jevan had quite tactfully steered them the ever-living planes away before someone overheard and the smiling catfight could begin. Musicians were an eccentric bunch, yes. They were odd, and rather amusing at the best of times. Jevan enjoyed their company. However, anger one of them and it was time to duck and cover one's balls.

He was not as pleased by the encounter as was Dedenia, which showed when she next nodded to another target. "Oh, there's Alexander. I met him through the University's Music Department head, remember? Last year? We should go say hello."

Jevan was about to deny the chance when he caught sight of Ryoko. Her style of dress was very modern, and only served to remind him of their age gap and all the other little things that had done nothing but spike the tension between them since her appointment to magistrate.

"Yes. Let's."

He felt more than saw Dedenia glance up at him, followed by her quick survey of the room. Tastefully done, of course. Dedenia was never not graceful.

"There now, if you want we can say hello to Ryo--"

"Look, there's the young Vesurian beside Alexander." Jevan picked up his pace, tugging Dedenia along with him.

He dutifully ignored her almost inaudible giggle.

[Shanuri Laleonalia]

Shanuri strode into the auditorium with graceful dancer's steps. She knew exactly how to appear confident and proud, even though her heart was racing. Her dress was bright red, with elaborate silver decorations on the bodice typical to the classical Zackonspierre style. Her hair was braided around her head with red and silver ribbons. Very elegant, very pragmatic. Her fans, purple and black and gold, were sharpened for the occasion, and her rings and amulets were heavy in her fingers and around her neck. She was, in short, armed to the teeth.

It was still early. She would perform later, leaving her plenty of time to secure her ground. Tonight might well turn out to be too early to act, but Shanuri Laleonalia did not leave things to chance.

She recognised some of the faces. She had performed for them, in their houses, their little parties, working her way up. This was the highest she had ever been, which meant that the view would be best.

She grasped an ornate stem glass from a passing tray and sipped the contents carefully. Over the rim, it was easy to observe her surroundings, particularly the people. Many of them seemed to be preoccupied with themselves, uncertain and nervous.

You should be nervous. Coming here, following the Demon's summons. Are you prepared to burn?

[Azuel Vyaduka]

Azuel slid from his auburn steed to land upon the cobblestone road, his boots making a firm crack upon the stone. Were it not for his frowning, uncertain expression he might have been a hero come to his destiny. A few blocks away, he could hear the Gala starting up. He could hear the bumble of the crowds and the musicians.

Azuel grimaced, and pulled his invitation out of his pocket as he led his horse to a nearby stable. He bit his lip as he looked at the name: Maalik Vyaduka. It was his father’s invitation. He was not looking forwards to convincing the doorman of his reasons for having it. Granted, his reason was perfectly legitimate: his father held no respect for Navarre’s ideals, and it was up to Azuel to smooth things over for the family. Truth be told, he was only here now because of an argument. He had thought it would be in his father’s best interests to attend, culminating in his father declaring that if it was truly so important, Azuel could go. Pride carried him the rest of the way. Even if he did not include the details, it would just be so awkward to explain it. Were it not for the fact that he would not meet Isyrion otherwise, he would have simply paid the entry fee.

Or Navarre, he supposed she was calling herself now. A strange choice, by any estimation. Regardless, he held much respect for someone who could accomplish so much so early in life, even though it painfully reminded him of his own failings. The name of his father on the back of the letter was nothing but another painful reminder. He attempted to distance himself from such thoughts, but did not succeed.

He reached the stables and hoped there would be space yet remaining. To his surprise and relief, there was. He quickly resolved his business there and walked down the street, his pace a bit faster than it needed to be.

Despite his fast pace, he stopped and watched an elven woman go in before him; when she was through, he could delay no longer. He approached.

“Invitation?” The doorman said simply, having noticed Azuel’s parchment. He extended a hand to examine it.

“Ah, it’s not mine.” Azuel said, handing it over, “I’ll be attending in place of my father, Maalik Vyaduka.”

The man examined the invitation for a while, apparently deciding whether or not to question the turn of events. Eventually, he chuckled, amused at the politics. “Lady Navarre won’t like that.” But he nodded his head inwards anyways.

Azuel gave the man a pained smile. “Thanks for the warning.” He strode into the amphitheater.

[Navarre]

Navarre sat beside Ashleigh at the table and began folding her napkin on her lap, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “I clearly told you to escort me from my dressing room,” she said, her even tone masking her frustration.

“My apologies. I suppose it slipped my mind.”

Frowning, she glanced at Alexander, who sighed and shook his head. When she first approached Alexander about her plans she knew his son would be a problem. Though he had his father’s looks, he unfortunately lacked his willingness to shut his mouth and play his part. Excluding him from the campaign wasn’t an option: If the Marquelis patriarch’s son didn’t publicly support his father’s efforts, that would reflect poorly on her movement. Navarre knew Ashleigh resented her and only obeyed out of loyalty to his father, so she gave him a meaningless position and called on him rarely. Yet the brat still had the nerve to resist her.

She didn’t take defiance lightly. Ashleigh would learn that quickly if he continued to cause problems, Alexander’s son or not.

“Is that so?” Navarre looked at him. “Then I’ll do you the courtesy of reminding you of your duties. For the rest of the evening you are to remain by my side, look handsome, and remain silent unless spoken to. I trust that’s simple enough to remember.”

Ashleigh sighed. “As you wish, Lady Navarre.”

Navarre traced a finger along the rim of her wine glass. “By the way, where are Calder and Abernathy? I haven’t seen them since this morning.”

”Matthias is off playing the sycophant,” Alexander said as he sat beside her. “I’m not certain about the Abernathy girl, but I reminded her this morning to join us once the music begins. Her parents will make sure she doesn’t embarrass herself.” Once he finished speaking, he noticed Jevan and Dedenia approaching the table. Smiling, he stood up to greet them. "Jevan! Dedenia! It's a pleasure to see you again. Won't you join us?"

[Jevan]

Smiles were firmly in place by the time Alexander called out to Dedenia and Jevan. "You flatter!" Dedenia said, holding out her hands to Alexander with the tireless enthusiasm of a woman well-used to getting her way. "Considering how often I have stretched your ear with my stories, it is a wonder you do not flee the room at the sight of me. It is my pleasure to see you."

Jevan gave a short, polite inclination of his head to those present, holding on to what dignity he could. A man attached to a woman such as Dedenia was bound to watch it spill from him over the years, even one as fond of Marn laws as Jevan was. The gravity of his office and tenure, coupled with his reserved reputation and family name, demanded a certain bearing. Dedenia, it was safe to say, had never come into contact with such societal implications in her life before she had met Jevan. By the time they had married and she had born their first child, he had come to realize that she had no intention to change. Oh, she could be reserved and gracious in public. She chose not to. In fact, she had once told him quite plainly that she did not belong to him and would not change who she was on account of his fool notions of respectability. That was Dedenia in a nutshell.

He tried not to cringe, and succeeded, though that success did not feel like much of one. "A pleasure," he mumbled, "ah, it has been some time since my acquaintance with the lady. Would you care to do the honors, sir?" He nodded towards Navarre, offering a bland smile for his presumption.

Dedenia was on the verge of opening up on one of her dizzying discussions into the guts of the cultural merits of musicianship in education and society, Jevan could feel it. Best to cut her off before she could work her wiles on the nearby guests. Some days he couldn't quite remember what had possessed him to marry her. But, he thought, looking between her and Alexander and Navarre, he always remembered by the end of the night.

[Vicentius]

What was it about the upper crust and parties? Having money simply wasn't good enough. You also had to throw money around and occasionally stuff it down people's throats with a funnel in case they missed the message. How else were they going to find out how rich you were or what you wanted them to know? Parties disliked him, but he attended nevertheless. People would be in attendance and he needed to be seen with people, if only to reassure them that he was people too. Not that the practise was unique to Marn. The very rich tended to be quite unified in their approach to socialising lest they frightened the money and it decided to run away.

Tius smiled as he walked, a pale, blond face hovering above a patch of well tailored, tidy black, his footfalls lost in the gradually growing sounds of revelry and condensed nobility as he drew closer to his destination. The upper class; he could listen to them squabbling all day. It was the sound of democracy at its skittish, money hungry finest. How would society prosper without it, especially these days? All this Paragon business had everyone on edge, worried that they were going to lose the precious money. He smiled a little wider at the thought. Money was a wonderful dream and nothing more. Once you woke up to that you could swim in an ocean of the stuff, that was what so few realised. Paragon. What an odd name for a newspaper. He did his best to keep up with new editions of the scandalous publication. It lacked style, but he had to admit, it was all good, rabble rousing stuff and surprisingly well informed. He rather liked it. They frightened people, and scared people easily grew angry and careless; they made mistakes. What self-respecting citizen of Marn would pass up the chance to take advantage of that? After all, a gathering of the upper classes was to politics what the alignment of the stars was to astrology. As with everyone else, he showed up because, unless you wanted to be left out of the loop, that was what you did. Plus, with the kind of names that were likely to be in attendance, a figure like him would likely escape comment, which was ideal.

That only made this gathering more curious to his mind. Yes, people were nervous and the natural response was to rally the troops and keep the sheep from stampeding out of the paddock, but this felt like something more. He couldn't explain the impression beyond that. Maybe it was the cadence of Modestine's most recent denouncements, or perhaps it was the hostess' reputation in full effect. Lady Navarre was quite the subject of rumour since the death of her family and increasingly so since this Paragon affair had begun. He was certain that it was this mystery that most offended his peers. Lady Navarre was an oddity, and the noble classes didn't like secrets that they weren't privy to. They treated anything they didn't understand as an affront to their very existence and having been at the brunt of that stigma, Tius had some small empathy for her, but there his understanding ended. She was a puzzle, and he did so like puzzles. Yes, she was as decadent as the rest and he'd heard all the scandalous rumours about her past, but those were probably guess-work at best. She was clever and subtle in a way that seemed utterly at odds with her youth, and the few times he'd seen them, her eyes had glittered with a cold intelligence that had given even him considerable pause for thought. She existed, it seemed, to put people off balance. He approved whole-heartedly.

The building slowly resolved itself amidst the haze of surrounding masonry, along with the door and the man before it. Tightening his leather gloves, he fished out his invitation, wondering briefly if Sophia or her brother, Nasku would be in attendance. The Oslun reaction to this little soiree would likely polarize a large portion of the political landscape and a wise man would want to be ahead of that. The doorman, a hulking slab of a man calculating eyes and a bully's charm, accepted the invitation with the nonchalance of a small fish suddenly in a position of power. He was going to make the most out of this. Who wouldn't? Tius settled into a position of polite and pleasant patience, back straight and arms clasped behind him, as the ticket was inspected with a thoroughness designed to infuriate. When the man finally stood aside, Tius accepted the invitation back and handed over ten bishani to the man anyway, thanking him for his thoroughness and heading in before he could be stopped. Sometimes things were all about style, but in this case old habits died hard.

Inside, the a wave of heat, tobacco smoke, alcohol and expensive food hit him like a fist. It was a heady sensation, but one he was used to resisting. Breathing deeply, he waved away a hovering servant holding a tray of drinks with a polite smile and stepped forwards into the lion's den. Faces he knew. Faces he didn't know. Faces he intended to know better. They all blended together into the glorious tapestry of wealth and power. There was something poetic about it all, he thought. It was a shame that he had no gift for verse. Picking up a plate of the less suspicious canapés, he began to drift from conversation to conversation, sometimes listening and sometimes talking, gauging the mood, and the mood was one of cautious expectation. He chatted briefly with his contacts as circumspectly as time allowed, given that some of them didn't want the others to know they knew him. All in all, he was every bit the chipper young buck trying to make friends in the know.

As he moved, his eyes were drawn to the head table and the people sitting at it. Lady Navarre Vesuvian, flanked by Alexander and Asleigh Marquelis. It was odd, he thought, now that he saw her again. Her presence was rather like a lead weight on a rubber sheet; it distorted the space around it, drawing people in. Neither Marquelis would be delighted to see a Morrington at their affair, but then there was little they would say about it. For some strange reason you weren't allowed to snub your enemies the way you were your friends. He noticed the look of perpetual distaste on Asleigh's face and wondered what Navarre had on him to keep him there. Alexander certainly liked her, or at least was comfortable with her, to judge by their interaction. He chewed a canapé thoughtfully as they began to greet their guests, recalling the scandal surrounding the death of the elder Vesuvians and Navarre's short-lived relationship with that historian Madelyne. Wasn't there some talk of a connection between Madelyne and Alexander too? He made a mental note to check up on that. It paid to stay informed after all. Now that he thought about it, there were some faces missing. Modestine for one, which was very odd. Navarre was living affirmation of his world view after all and it wasn't like him to miss an opportunity to parade her around. Her cronies, Calder and Abernathy were absent too, though that was less concerning. They would surface sooner or later he was sure.

Taking a bite of another canape, he watched as Jevan Mornir, the magistrate's aide, and his wife Dedenia approached the head table. Carefully, he glanced around to see if the magistrate herself was in attendance, and sure enough, there Ryoko was, resplendent as always and socialising like the political predator she was. It was a wonder that Jevan was avoiding her, but then he was ambitious too in his own solid way. He'd fancied himself in line for magistrate after all, though he'd never said it, and he deeply disliked his superior as a result. Tius thought it was a wasted opportunity for the man to learn, but the situation suited him perfectly. A vacancy in teh halls of power elevated everyone, provided of course they played their cards right. The man could be pushed to move against Ryoko; it was just a case of pressure and time. But he wouldn't be swayed by the likes of Tius; he was too far down the food chain and a Morrington to boot. He would need to introduce himself to Jevan and Ryoko in due time as propriety demanded, but he could put it off until the more deserving guests had done so. Dedenia he knew in passing through his siblings, and he made a mental note to catch up on what their children were doing these days. Perhaps he could simply ask them.

He glanced around, moving with the ebb of the crowd. He spotted Guardsman Vyaduka easily. The man approached socialising like it was a military manoeuvre, which, he reflected, it more or less was. He wondered that Khayyam had decided to abstain, though Maalik's absence was easier to understand, given his rumoured leanings. His siblings were pleasant enough, if cold toward Tius. Maalik , he admired, though like most of Marn he wondered how far his dissenting opinions went. Given the man's reclusive nature, however, it was unlikely he would ever find out. Glancing around, he spotted a young woman who could not have been more than twenty and looking, at least to his mind, a little at sea. Curious, he approached her as directly as was polite. Plain but pretty, there was something about her face that tugged at his memory, and a glint at her neck resolved itself into a rather dazzling ruby necklace that also taunted him, though he didn't risk a direct look. He wanted to avoid as much impropriety as he could, given his history.

"Can I ask what's on your mind, Miss, or would that be impolite?"

Smiling politely, he awaited her response.

[Talia Idris]

Talia had not been paying attention to her surroundings and so when a young man approached her and inquired after her thoughts she jumped a little and she quickly made the slight turn to face him properly. "Good day, I mean good evening." She laughed nervously, her left hand on her chest as she tried to calm her heart that had also jumped and started racing for some silly reason.

His attire was quite tasteful, nothing to laugh at as Talia had already half-heartedly down at the few who were so intent on showing off their wealth that they made quite the fashion statement. It was also very well-made and fit him perfectly, making her feel a bit shy about her own homemade dress with the tiny embroidered red roses around the hem of the skirt and long fitted sleeves. She had to look up to meet his gaze, his smile seeming a bit forced but it still calmed her.

Taking her gaze off of the man before her Talia instead cast it around the room, unconsciously biting the corner of her lower lip as she contemplated his question and what a proper answer would be. "I suppose...." She began thoughtfully as she clasped her hands in front of her cream coloured dress before looking back into his face and finished answering his question "I am simply not used to attending these events. And I guess part of me wonders what I am doing here." Talia was about to add on my own but decided against it. While there seemed to be no doubt that this gentleman was the genuine article, she thought it probably was not a very wise idea to let a complete stranger know that she was alone for the night, at least not yet.

"And what brings you here tonight, if I may be so bold? Duties to the Parents? Wife? Or are you just here for the champagne and good food?" Talia asked with small smile as she shook her head at the server who was walking around offering beverages. She had learned once already that alcohol did not mix well with her and unless this night took a drastic turn for the worse she would be avoiding that kind of beverage for the duration of the evening.

[Vicentius]

His guess had been correct then it seemed. What was more, if her glance was anything to go by she was either genuine or a gifted actress. She needed to watch what her hands and her lips were doing though. Despise it as he did, he had to admit that holding a wine glass did give your hands something to do.

"I think we all feel like that until the novelty wears off, miss," he said, giving her space to breathe. "Then we start finding reasons. Dinner and a show for ten Bishani isn't a bad one to start with."

Yes, there was definitely something about her face that tugged at his memory. There was a classical beauty to her features, though he felt as though he were looking at it from a distance and was puzzled at the thought. Perhaps it was the necklace. Her clothing seemed more made than bought, though it was well cared for, and someone had put love and care into the embroidery. He envied that. The most he'd ever managed to do was darn his socks. Badly. Against this, the pendant; a flawless ruby on a gold chain, seemed entirely at odds. Yet, she wore it with the grace of one born to, and it seemed oddly...fitting. He very much doubted that it was stolen. In fact, she seemed almost protective of it, judging by the way her hands didn't quite move to cover it and how conscious she seemed to be of its presence. It may have been a sore point.

"Work obligations, I'm afraid," he said with a shy smile, "I'm a jeweller's clerk. My employer attends these religiously to get ahead of trends and he needed another set of eyes."

He quite approved of her decision not to imbibe too. It paid to stay sharp at events like these; one never knew who might be watching. It did hint that she had some purpose beyond observing the local wild-life though, which intrigued him. Around them, the crowd flowed in its usual purposeful dance as knots of conversation came together and broke up. They were just two more bodies in the crowd. Anonymity was so liberating. He glanced down, embarrassed.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at it though," he said, quietly, "as you can see, sparkle isn't really where my strengths lie. But I try to do my best."

He gave her a pleading look.

"Have you seen any?"

[Talia Idris]

Talia wasn't quite sure what to think of the man. He had the air and mannerisms of someone who came to these events often, and had said 'we' instead of 'they'. Normally this would imply that he was part of the uppercrust yet he said he was a jeweller's clerk and by the sound of it he had paid the entry fee instead of coming by invitation. Perhaps he was just another person who attended these events in order to try and curry favour with the higher classes to raise their own status. That or he was trying to find a rich bride to bring him into wealth, fame or whatever people desired. But for some reason she didn't get that kind of vibe from him.

Now that she knew that he wasn't (or at least did appear to be) likely someone who would make fun of her if she said or did something embarrassing Talia relaxed a little as she followed his gaze to the people around the room.

"Where do your strengths lie then?" She asked curiously as she wondered why he would be working at a job he didn't seem to enjoy very much. Although perhaps it was a family business. Turning her face back towards him once more she answered his question . "To be honest, I haven't been paying much attention, unless it is to some of the more....extravagant outfits" tried not to giggle as an older woman passes by practically covered in exotic feathers. "Although most of them have larger baubles."

Talia found the large pieces of jewelry to be gaudy and overkill. But then, if that is what people wanted someone had to make it for them.

[Vicentius]

He felt, more than saw her weighing him up, smiling inwardly at her intelligence. Whatever the nobility liked to think, common clothing did not mean a common mind by any means. Tian Xia had proven that to him in abundance, even if their mode of thought ran screaming past the unorthodox at times. He’d approved utterly. Considering her question, he looked around at the dignitaries once more, as though uncertain of himself. The same faces were speaking and doing the rounds, and ahead of them, Navarre seemed to be working up to something, though that could have been his imagination. She could toy with people for days like that, or so the stories went. He had no intention of finding out.

“I suppose they lie in watching people,” he said, finally, “knowing how they think. Though I’ve always preferred working with numbers.”

He shrugged, putting his plate down on a nearby table and turning back to her. She was careful too, he noticed, which was always a sound tactic; probing for information on your opponent without revealing anything of yourself. He was curious, but he was content to wait. Too many people made the mistake of rushing. Sometimes the long game could be more interesting.

“Numbers don’t hold a grudge against you or change their minds at a moment’s notice,” he said, smiling, “they don’t expect you to wear frocks or jump through hoops. Numbers just are. People on the other hand...well, you never know, do you?”

He shook his head ruefully, following her gaze, smiling at the items she pointed out.

“Very fashionable,” he agreed, nodding amiably to a passing guest, “which has always been the problem. Do you know that there was a fad some seasons ago for feathers threaded into the hair? It got so out of hand that Lady Abatha Vyaduka apparently arranged for a small flock of songbirds to be caged upon her head. Poor things. Though I don’t want to imagine the smell. She went bald soon after, they say, and had to wear a wig. Dreadful stuff.”

He threw his hands out wide.

“This is what I have to deal with,” he said, laughing sadly, “what are people wearing and how can we get them to buy it from us. Instead of this is what we’re selling, how do we get people to wear it? Its more than a clerk should have to deal with, I think. Though I must say-“

Here he leaned in closer, nodding towards the woman in the feather dress that had passed them.

“I think I could pull that look off, myself.”

[Luca Abernathy]

---Many hours prior to the gala's opening---

Luca's day had started rather unpleasantly. Reynard, his physician, had decided that midday was an appropriate time to awake the nobleman. As Conrad's ridiculously gentle nudges were having no effect, Reynard chose the expedience of upending a carafe of cool water over Luca's face. "Time to awaken, M'lord, you have a gala to attend this evening." Thank goodness Conrad, the ever reliable mountain of sculpted muscle, was there to comfort Luca in the aftermath of the atrocity inflicted upon his delicate sleep, else the day might have been utterly ruined. "Oh dash it all Reynard, go away. The beastly Gala is hours away and that dreadful Vesurian girl is so deucedly dull and ambitious. Have you read that horrendous little pamphlet of hers?"

Conrad patted Luca's arm, the large Eyropan rumbling "But you were formally accepting the invitation, my Luca. It is being imperative that you are attending. It is expected." Luca flopped "Oh, blast expectations." Conrad poked "You have already arranged for evening soiree, and must attend." Luca sprawled "Blast the soiree, and the guests too." Reynard poured another carafe of water over Luca's face "He is sleep-talking, Conrad. You can tell by the fact he is not making any sense." As Luca spluttered, Conrad wiped the smaller man's face gently with a handy towel supplied by Reynard "Ah, it must be so. I shall go prepare for his daily toilette. He must be looking his best at Gala." Luca grimaced. It was going to be one of those days, where circumstances conspired to ensure he did things at another's pace. Dreadful, utterly dreadful.


---At the Gala proper---

Luca contrived to arrive fashionably late. Indeed, as fashionably as his tailor could manage. Indigo and silver was the primary theme that evening. Elegantly cut indigo trousers met a silver grey shirt, offset by a dark indigo waistcoat elegantly embroidered with silver thread. A silver loop in his left ear matched the the buckle on his belt to balance the ensemble, finished off with a silvery cravat embroidered with a blue floral pattern. A faint waft of lavender followed in his wake.

To Luca's dismay, however, he had not arrived late enough to miss out on the ridiculous demagoguery. The doormen had helpfully reassured him of that disheartening state of affairs when he had in all good faith commented "I am dreadfully sorry for missing the speech". It was a disaster looming upon the horizon of his evening. Luca could just imagine what it was going to be like. An utterly dull rant by an utterly dull, if shapely, girl. Honestly, an elf railing against non-humans? Utter tripe, and yet people pretended to be a part of it? The 'Marn Restoration Campaign' was the clearest evidence yet, in Luca's opinion, that people needed more fun in their lives.

Putting on his best rakish smile, and straightening his cravat, Luca jaunted in to the milieu of assorted nobles and assorted others all pretending to have fun. By Teodinus, he hoped the wine hadn't been watered down. It was the kind of thing he'd expect from the horrible little Vesurian pamphleteer. And, oh dear, there was that dull Jevan fellow dragging poor Dedenia away from all the fun people to the Marquelis gents who, to all appearances, were enamoured by Navarre's every word.

As he swanned his way towards the musicians, Luca waved merrily to Elsbeth Cottrel, earning a dark look from Victor standing rigidly in her close vicinity, so obvious a chaperone it was entertaining to prod him. The night was becoming a farce already. Here a Mornir, there a Morrington. Now, if a Merynir could show up, then things might get interesting. If only Salazar was still around, then the night would turn lively. Instead, Luca spent time ensuring that at least a handful of attractive young musicians were keen on the idea of a late night performance. Cheekily, Luca suggested to Dedenia's violinist friend that he should quietly pass on to her an invite to the performance. If Luca was lucky, Jevan might even get to hear about it. Now wouldn't that ruffle that dull pigeon's feathers? It might, yes, it might indeed.

Most of Luca's circle of dilettantes had hand-waved this gathering, knowing it would be filled to the rafters with that particularly fusty brand of conservative nobleman they so disdained the company of. But Luca had certain obligations and arrangements to finalise. Besides, cousin Lorenna had begged him to come support the event. A sweet thing, Lorenna, but utterly dense and liable to believe anything she was told. Like a puppy being taken walkies, except that dire Vesurian girl seemed to hold her leash now. Still, odious as Lorenna's present dictator was, his cousin had done a marvellous job on decorating the event. She had been gushing about it so embarrassingly for what seemed an eternity, but credit where credit was due: Lorenna had delivered a sparkling venue. Shame about the dull crowd it sparkled around, really. Where was Lorenna, anyway?

Well, never mind, there was a familiar elven face to cheer him up. Luca strolled across to Jacel Varti with a cheerful "Jacel, old bean, what an utter pleasure to see you here at this dreadful affair. Where Teodinus can't save me from the tedium, I just know you can. How has business been, dear fellow?"