Marn Restoration Gala - Ascension

[Navarre]

Lorenna felt a knot in her stomach as her cousin guided her through the crowd. It was obvious Navarre was losing her patience with Luca, so she was relieved when he agreed to leave with her without argument. She knew people said she was a little slow, but it didn't take her long to learn that angering Navarre wasn't a good idea: Ashleigh mouthed off to her a few weeks ago, and Alexander throttled him without a second thought while Navarre watched. Never in a million years would she have expected such violence from Alexander, the same man who read her stories at her parents' parties when she was a little girl. And when she saw the looks on her parents' faces as they watched the beating, she knew they would do the same.

But was asking this question really insubordination? She didn't want to risk it, but deep down it was bothering her. Most of House Abernathy was answering to Navarre -- at least those who respected her parents -- so there was a good chance Luca could explain it to her. Her parents were far too busy helping Navarre run her campaign, so asking them was out of the question. Besides, even if it was something she shouldn't be talking about, Navarre didn't exactly have to know about it, right?

When Luca brought up her question, she glanced around to see if anyone was listening in. They were far enough from the crowd, but she was still a little nervous. "Well, I don't know if I'm supposed to be talking about this, but something's been confusing me..."

They hadn't seen her at the top of the stairs that night. Alexander was with her parents in the living room -- they were talking about the campaign over coffee and cakes. But then the conversation turned to Navarre's father....

"A few nights ago, I overheard my parents talking with Lord Marquelis. It was mostly boring political stuff, but then they started talking about Lord Vesurian and Father said something weird - he said Navarre spoke with Isyrion after her father's death. Does that mean that Isyrion isn't the real Navarre, or that there's another Navarre we don't know about, or something? I kinda feel like I'm out of the loop..."

[Talia Idris]

Talia opened her eyes and got up from the chair that she had sat in to rest for a few moments. She really should get back just in off chance Mr. Morr was waiting for her to return. Briefly looking at herself in the mirror she pushed some loose hairs back into place and nodded in satisfaction. She still didn't look like she was entirely back to her normal self...but then she wasn't dressed at all like her normal self so who would really notice anyways?

Taking a deep breath she put on a smile as she opened the door and entered the fray once again. Although it wasn't really a fray anymore as the various offending parties seemed to have scattered at least a little bit. Talia breathed a thankful sigh of relief both at that and the fact that Tius hadn't followed her and had been waiting that long for her to finish up in the ladies room.

Scanning the room she noticed him still standing where she had so rudely left him. It was probably safe to assume that he was waiting for her and that it wouldn't be rude for her to join him once again. If he had desired to seek other company he would have been wise enough to make his escape and loose himself in the crowd.

"I'm sorry I took so long." Talia smiled apologetically as she approached Tius. "I wasn't really feeling well for a moment there." She was about to add on a reason but decided against it. The real reason wasn't one she wished to share so easily and currently she was having trouble thinking of good excuses.

"So what did I miss?" She said in a mock hushed and conspiratorial tone. "Any declarations about a duel at sunrise or threats about eternal war between any of them followed by maniacal laughter?" Sure her attempt at making light of the situation may have been a bit extreme (at least for her) but Talia wasn't sure she would be able to salvage much of the night if it continued in the same manner as it had before she made her escape to the washrooms.

[Vicentius]

"Well now let me see," Tius said, chewing thoughtfully, "he declared his undying love for her, which she refuted because she's due to marry that other chap over there. He overheard and demanded to know what was going on. She denied having any feelings for the first man, who was beginning to get desperate because he wanted to show that other woman over there that the reason he couldn't be with her was because he wanted to be with the first woman and it escalated from there. Neither was willing to budge on their positions so after a heated the exhange they went outside briefly and now things seem to have settled down."

He shrugged and took a sip of punch to clear his throat. Around them he saw one or two of the guests do a double take at what he'd said, looking around as though they'd missed something scandalous. He raised an eyebrow to Talia and glanced around conspiratorially, before leaning in a little closer.

"That's not mentioning the further heated words between our hostess and the the good lady Sekhara. Such drama! But dear Lady Sekhara couldn't handle the pressure it seemed and had to excuse herself quite quickly afterwards. Our dashing guard captain was polite enough to escort her while dear Luca Abnernathy provided some entertainment. Isn't it fun to watch rich people be naughty?"

He offered her some of his refreshments and in that moment between conversations his eyes grew a little distant and he spoke quickly and quietly.

"Of course I can't help feeling that something big is in the offing," he said, the sentence quick as a snake's tongue, "this is all a little rehearsed."

Stepping back, he smiled and took another sip of punch as the conversation around him ebbed and lfowed back to something like normality, albeit with added huddling and whispers. Taking in her appearance briefly, he considered offering to escort her home. Something here had clearly bothered her and despite her best efforts to put a brave face on it he could still see the strain lurking beneath the surface.

"Are you sure you're well? You look a little peaked, Miss idris."

[Luca Abernathy]

Sometimes, Luca mused, his cousin was just too adorable in her innocence. Such naivety was a darling diversion from the more grubby intrigues he normally tended to delight in. Still, the girl should really keep abreast of current events and old scandals. It was time for Luca to perform his cousinly duty and educate Lorenna on the kind of person she was playing caterer for. Ugh, the dreadfully dull things he did for family. "My darling coz, haven't you realised already? Isyrion is mad."

Luca draped an arm around Lorenna's shoulder as he continued "Utterly, and completely, mad. If it weren't for her father's influence, and that of all the xenophobic prats who use her as a conveniently beautiful figurehead for their own dirty gain, she'd have been put in the asylum long ago." Luca still remembered how thrilling the gossip mill had been when that delightful Vendeleur girl had passed away. Some suggested suicide, others a drunken (or drugged) accident, but it had been the juiciest of topics for a good month at the time. Add to that Isyrion's bizarre speech at the time, taking on such a random and vaguely Eyropan name, and you have a recipe for an unforgettable bit of aristocratic anecdote. And Luca was all about keeping an extensive archive of anecdotes for his absinthe parties.

Lorenna looked at Luca dubiously. She wasn't so oblivious that her parents' frequent invective on the subject of her wastrel cousin hadn't had some impact on his credibility. "She doesn't seem mad, Luca." The dandy patted her shoulder in a big-brotherly fashion. "Lorenna, m'dear, let me put it to you like this: someone died in front of her. She completely changed her name and personality overnight, and is now figurehead of a movement designed to instigate violence against the poor and non-human citizens of Marn. Are these the actions of an entirely sane woman?" Lorenna moved to say something, but couldn't quite find an apt counter-argument.

Luca pressed on "And regarding this strangeness you mention, I can only imagine that my arsehole of an uncle, whose only redeeming feature was bringing you into this world dear coz, accidentally let slip that Isyrion has a split personality and her mad Navarre personality converses with her original Isyrion personality." Oh my, that was a clever way of putting it. Now, that would make for a fun discussion at the soiree. Luca pressed his finger against Lorenna's lips as she began to protest his description of her father. "Face it, my dear, Isyrion is a madwoman. And she'll cause a lot of damage before the rest of Marn realises it - you mark my words." Luca's tone became truly serious for a moment "Please be careful around her. Mad people can get violent without warning. It would be dreadful if you got hurt when she eventually loses all the wheels off her mental carriage."

Luca personally thought the inevitable explosion caused by Isyrion's fractured mind was going to be very exciting, and would be fodder for some interesting social possibilities. "Now, darling coz, if you promise me to be careful around that dreadful Isyrion girl, I in turn promise to take you shopping in a couple of weeks. How does that sound?" Lorenna perked up, the possibility of a shopping trip washing away her confused thinking with something she could better comprehend "Will you really?" Luca pecked her on the cheek "Of course, m'dear coz." Especially because it would further enrage his uncle and aunt, which was well worth the bishani spent. How such conservative and narrow minds were born into the Abernathy family was beyond Luca when it had also given birth to his own brilliant existence. But then, you couldn't choose your family members. You could only choose how to twit the ones you didn't like. "Off you go now, coz, you have guests to entertain." Lorenna poked her tongue out at Luca then went off to mingle. Luca, in turn, went hunting for Jacel.

[Gil Agathos]

Everyone had known the Gala would be the topic du jour for weeks to come. All had expected the event to be potentially explosive in the impact it had on the city's state of mind. Isyrion was, after all, looking to take care of all the 'weeds' in her garden and had previously made it clear how she hoped to go about the task.

There was a deliberate irony, then, that Navarre's own flowers were used in an attempt on the lives on her and all who might have potentially supported her at the event. Trick had been careful earlier that evening when following Gil's instructions, swiftly pouring water from the small metal watering can in even quantities to each delivered potplant, to 'help them stay fresh for the evening'. Lorenna had thought it a wonderful idea, and had even forgiven Trick for arriving late.

All evening, as nobles and their guests waffled on at each other about irrelevant inanities, the specially treated liquid seeped through the runnels and channels inside the specially constructed flowerpots, until finally, they met with the catalysing agent. When the first one popped off, the sound pierced through the hubbub of burbling noble buffoons, and in the slight gap following it one of the serving men shrieked, dropping his tray of drinks as he pointed a shaking hand at the table where Navarre, her escorts, Guile Markus, and his wife Hermipises were seated.

Hermipises, who had decided that smelling the roses was by far the best way to execute discretion when those around her were being outrageously blunt at each other, bore the brunt of the first flowerpot. Shards of ceramic, needles and nails shot through the air, the initial explosion making a bloody wreckage of Hermipises' hands. The shrapnel made a bloody wreckage of Hermipises in general.

As nobles and servants alike began to realise there was something dreadfully amiss, the other flowerpots exploded within short succession of each other, the shrapnel from each catching out the shocked, the unlucky, and the unwary with potentially fatal consequences.

Navarre may have wanted to see bloodshed in Marn but it was The Dragon Awakened who got in first. Panic erupted as screams, shouts, and a veritable chorus of pain and distress replaced the stately music previously playing. One could not turn one's head without seeing some sign of splattered blood and injuries.

[Vicentius]

Tius heard the scream and some ancient animal sense spurred him into action. He wasn't sure what was happening but his gut told him that anything that provoked a scream like that was more than he needed to deal with. He'd been in enough troubles over the years to know where he did and didn't want to be, and suddenly he very much did not want to be here.

"Get down!" he yelled, leaping at Talia and bearing her to the ground,"get down damn you!"

He lashed out with his foot and kicked over a nearby table, pulling Talia with him as best he could. On the other side of it something exploded and sent things shuddering into the wood and someone fell with a clatter and a wet thump. Around them, a sudden chorus of bangs and screams rang out as other tables began to explode. Tius felt a sting in his forehead and brought his hand up to see what it was, pulling a small nail from where it had slit his brow. It stung like hell but thankfully it had only glanced. He turned his attention to Talia, suddenly aware that he might have been squashing her slightly.

"Are you alright, miss? Are you hurt? Get down, damn it!" He called out to the rest, hoping to be heard over the din, "get away from the tables!"

Now the panic would start, he thought, people screaming and clawing at one another to get outside, but that wouldn't help them. Not if this had been properly planned it wouldn't. He looked up and around quickly, spotting the doors to the kitchens nearby and glanced back down at Talia. There were solid walls between that room and this and people would flee the other way. He staggered to his feet.

"Come on, miss! This way, it'll be safer there!"

Whether it actually would be or not was anyone's guess but it was better than staying here. Trying to shield Talia as best he could, he winced slightly as another pain lanced through his leg, but kept moving all the same. Don't look, don't stop, he told himself, you can deal with that later when both of you are safe. Changer's breath, were those more blasts? Outside? Ancestors' mercy now things really were out of the bag. He held Talia tightly and pressed on. They had to make the servants' hall else they'd be crushed in the press.

[Guile]

Guile caught a look from Camulous that made him regret what he had said. While he had never thought of it before, he had always known that the captain probably disliked him a good deal. Metarie did seem the type to whine about her daily struggles to him. Such a terrible life she had, where she had to deal with Guile's barrage of suggestions for her healing practices and the hospital.

Still, it was mildly upsetting to think that one of the most popular men in the city of Marn held any sort of disdain for Guile. The minister liked to think of himself as a friendly, well-liked sort of person.

Whatever banter was spoken between people after Metarie and Camulous had gone washed over Guile with limited effect. It seemed like only moments had passed before the bombs went off.

The noise was unbearable.
An object struck his leg, and it did not hurt until seconds later when he felt pressure and heat like in his nightmares. Screams erupted in the hall as not one but several objects exploded very near to them, one after the other. The deafening sounds were made worse by the acoustics in the room, which forced a ringing in his ears. All at once the gala became a war zone.

Something carnal in the back of his mind made Guile jump to his feet, and at once he was overtaken with a type of fear that people in his position rarely knew. He turned one way and then the other, instinctively moving toward the exit. In desperation he searched for his wife with panicked eyes. A few people shoved past him and he turned around when he realized Hermipises was not beside him as usual.

He began shouting her name, for although he may not have loved her as a husband should his wife, she was a pillar of stability for him. She was, after all, a loyal friend and though he may not have known it until that moment, a loved one.

Guile could see blood. There was carnage in more places than one. His leg, no, now his arm, were beginning to hurt. It took him a moment to realize that he was limping. His head swiveled this way and that, searching for her.
He did not recognize the mess of a woman he went past, not until a full moment later when he realized the blood-soaked fabric had the pattern of the delightful dress she had worn that day.

His breath caught in his throat.

[Azuel Vyaduka]

Everything had changed.

Azuel blinked, his expression blank as he stood gaping forwards at the carnage that now occurred before his very eyes. He was paralyzed by the dissonance. Where once his sister had stood before him, there was now only a panicked crowd nestled under sprays of dirt and shrapnel. It seemed only the building’s very walls remained unchanged, even pristine.

His mind snapped back to reality, and he was able to momentarily focus his thoughts on sensations other than the sight before him. What first struck him was the screaming. Never had he heard anything like it. He reeled backwards as if seeking some sanctuary from the nightmare, finding only other stumbling bodies screaming. What then struck him was an indescribable pain, the source of which he could not pinpoint. His leg buckled as it collided with something behind him, a table or another person, and he collapsed the ground.

His collision was not gentle. The various gilded parts of his attire rattled like bells as the force of his collapse knocked the breath from him. They were barely audible over the chaos. His left shoulder was the first point of impact. It was followed shortly by his head, which lurched to the side when his shoulder couldn’t move any more. The blow knocked whatever semblance of sense he had managed to scrap together on the way down.

His ears still rung, the sound like nothing Azuel had ever experienced. Between the screams and the ringing from the explosion, Azuel was reverted to instincts he had never before been forced to call upon. He wished for nothing more than to scramble under a table and wait for the loud noises to stop.

A moment after scraping his fingers in futility across the floor, a thought halted his incompetent advance: his sister’s face. She had been standing right in front of him before the world had turned upside down.

The thought cost him when a heeled shoe fell from the sky and crushed his two rightmost fingers. He was deeply alarmed by how little it seemed to hurt, but he nevertheless thrashed backwards, tearing skin from his knuckles and causing the woman responsible to lose her footing and skid across the floor, having already been rendered unstable by her impractical footwear.

Azuel struggled to stand and search for his sister. His first attempt was met with failure. His right arm didn’t seem to be working quite right, but he didn’t spare any thought as to why. On his second try, he got into a position where all four limbs remained unsteadily beneath him. He held his head as aloft as he could manage, attempting to see over other prone figures. Another runner nearly collided with him once more, this time narrowly missing his upturned face.

When the man passed, the crowd had parted enough that he could see her. Her previously white dress was now coated with an alarming, vibrant shade of red.

Azuel crawled over to her, finding he could still move his right arm if not the fingers that the woman had stepped on. He moved to his shaking knees and by some miracle managed to pick his sister up, his left hand beneath her neck and his right, hardly functioning, at the crook of her knees.

He managed to stand. He had never been so grateful for the modest strength he had acquired from his training. The howling din did not cease. He knew of only one doctor in the building. Where was Sehkhara? He scanned the tables in the direction he hoped she had gone; with all the confusion, the ringing in his ears and blurs in his eyes, he couldn’t be certain he had the right direction. Paralyzed by indecision, his glanced down at his sister.

He wished he hadn’t. She was missing a large portion of her cheek to the shrapnel. He could see the teeth of her lower left jaw. The ghastly sight stole the breath from his lungs. Was he already too late? Did he have time to check?

He might have continued to gape and gawk if somebody hadn’t jostled him. The person who did so stopped and yelled something at him, but Azuel couldn’t hear it. He strode forwards on the only chance he had.

Just when he thought his right arm might give out, he saw her, and his heart leapt for joy. “Doctor Sehkhara!” He called out above the crowd, charging through while attempting to keep his sister from being jostled by those fleeing the building. “Sehkhara!”

[Luca Abernathy]

Later on, with the benefit of hindsight, Luca would decide that he should have fired Reynard when the inconsiderate bastard awoke him in time for the Gala. But that hindsight would come only in the aftermath of surviving the aforementioned, when Conrad was there to fuss over his wounded lord in the comfort of his own home.

At present all was chaos, pain, and the revolting chorus of screams: to which Luca had embarrassingly added his own shriek. Luca was not a fighter by nature, didn't dwell on 'what if' scenarios that didn't involve foreplay, and was accordingly entirely unprepared for the sudden and horrendous turn of events. The dandy had just found Jacel again when the flowerpot at Navarre's table went off. He had just turned back to Jacel to ask 'What in the blazes...' when the sound of explosively shattering potplants crashed into his senses from seemingly every direction. Which was when the screams, and the panicking, picked up in earnest.

And for Luca, that was when the pain started. For a moment, it felt like someone had thrown rocks at his back, but the sudden sting and seeping wetness causing his clothes to cling and hang in an awkward fashion told Luca that it was not just the other guests who'd be dying their ensembles red that evening. It was far too much for Luca to handle, and he mentally withdrew, his mouth going on something akin to autopilot "Oh dear, Jacel old bean, it seems the cliche is in reverse. I was sure the scripts always have the nobleman being saved by his uncommon commoner friend. I must..." What must he do? Family, family was important when dying, wasn't it? And surely a scene this dramatic could only end with the hero's death. "Need to go find Lorenna, old bean." Luca patted Jacel on the shoulder and stumbled off saying "Impart dying words of wisdom for final scene, y'know. Very important. Show must go on, and all that."

The back of Luca's fine clothing was torn in several places, with shards of terracotta and steel lodged in bleeding wounds. Lorenna was easy to find. She'd fallen over, sobbing in shock, shrapnel wounds peppering her right side from thigh to shoulder. Luca kneeled down. Again, the script had changed. How bloody inconsiderate the world could be. "Lorenna, Lorenna coz, focus. Hush now, it's me, Luca. Everything will be alright." That was how the stories always went, as he recalled. Now, where was the noble hero in shining armour? There was always one of those, and it couldn't be him, because he was wounded too. What did that make him, anyway? The tragic prince? Maybe that was it. Certainly had a nice ring to it.

Luca absentmindedly patted Lorenna's hand, saying vaguely reassuring things, while the sensation of pain slowly crept into his own stunned awareness.


---At the Private Residence of Luca Abernathy---

The sound of explosions startled both Conrad and Reynard. Conrad, who had been fussing over Luca's night-time ensemble for the scheduled soiree, queried "You are not supposing it is night for fireworks, Reynard?" Luca's personal physician glanced out the window "Can't see any. But it came from somewhere damned close. Wait, are those screams?" The Gala, being held at the university, was very close to the residences of many of Marn's nobility, Luca's house included. Conrad nearly had a conniption "You are not thinking there is trouble?".

More explosions, from further in the distance, and smoke arose from somewhere. "Well, it's not a festival, you tell me." Conrad started putting on his jacked "I will go look. There is being people not liking the hostess of Gala, perhaps is being trouble with them. Luca might need me." Reynard waved a hand irritably "Yes, yes, go save him from his own drunken follies. Maybe the Cottrells arrived en-mass to properly lynch him for another indiscretion." Conrad gave Reynard a disapproving frown "That is not being funny." Reynard returned his attention to the book he'd been reading "Sure it is. It'll just be one more hangover remedy for me to brew, and poultices for a well-deserved bruising, I suppose. Go on, sir knight, rescue our damsel in drunken distress".

[Navarre]

Before Navarre knew what was happening, she found herself pressed against the ground as screams and shattering noises filled the auditorium. She felt a wetness between her cheek and the floor, along with a sharp stinging sensation. Motionless, she closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing while she waited for the chaos to subside.

Eventually the explosions stopped, but the screaming persisted. As Alexander helped her to her feet, she looked out at the carnage before her -- bloodstained walls, overturned tables, mangled bodies, with pottery shards littered throughout. Her eyes focused on the shards, then skimmed the room for where the flower pots had been. As she put together the message, she couldn't help but appreciate the poetry behind it. Her own emblem became a tool of destruction, tearing through the flesh of her supporters just as her message threatened to rip Marn apart.

Alexander stepped between her and the disastrous scene. "You're hurt," he said, handing her a napkin from the table.

She dabbed her cheek with the napkin and looked at the blood. "It's only a scratch," she said, looking over the table. Everyone was gone. Suddenly nervous, she skimmed the crowd for Guile, then sighed in relief when she saw him running toward the exit. Most of her supporters were expendable, but she needed him alive. Since Doctor Sehkhara -- who was hopefully dead -- chose to defy her, Guile was her most valuable asset now.

Then again, maybe not her most valuable.

Those fools didn't realize how badly their little attack backfired now, but they would in due time. Her critics had called her a fearmonger, claiming she was making a bogeyman to frighen Marn into submission. But now they could see her "bogeyman" was very much real. No endorsement could compare to a public display like this. Even if some of her followers perished in this attack, the outpour of frightened citizens would more than make up for the loss. Frightened parents, vengeful survivors -- they would all be clamoring at her doorstep before long.

She turned to Alexander. "Take the stage and calm everyone down until the guards arrive. And keep an eye out for Sehkhara's corpse, I'll need some cheering up."

Accompanied by several of her Gardeners, she headed toward where she last saw Guile..He was alive now, but she needed to make sure he stayed that way. As she neared him, she stopped when she noticed a familiar corpse among the wreckage -- Hermipises. Guile had evidently noticed as well since he stopped abruptly not too far from her. Eerily calm, she stood over Hermipises and looked over at Guile, her somber expression masking her delight.

She made Modestine on her own. Fate had made his replacement.

[Shanuri Laleonalia]

In retrospect, it occurred to Shanuri that had she not stopped to witness Doctor Sehkhara's scene, she would have been safely in the backstage by the time the explosions started.

Luckily she had a dancer's agility and a conspirator's nervous reflexes, and as soon as the first piece of pottery struck her on the left shoulder blade, she was flat on the ground and under a table. The chain of explosions seemed to go on for an eternity, and even after it subsided, the screaming continued.

I'm going to kill someone!

She crawled from under the table, and got unsteadily on her feet. She could feel blood running down her back, and moving the left arm brought a surge of pain, but she didn't appear to be mortally wounded. Several people lying on the floor had not been as lucky.

Where is Haneul?

Pressing her arm against her side, she started to make her way towards the front door, amongst the herd of panicking quests.

You had it coming. I hope the witch is dead.

Another thought struck her, and she froze on her feet.

What if Vyaduka is dead?

[Guile]

Navarre stood over Hermipises. Guile rushed toward his wife and ignored the elf's presence.

Guile stooped to tend to his wife. She was not moving. A piece of ceramic was lodged deeply in her skull, which had forced blood to spill down her wrinkled face. Pieces of shrapnel littered her face and body, so that she was barely recognizable as Hermipises. A large portion of one of her hands was missing, and the other was so mangled that it would need to be amputated.

In her wide open, grey eyes, there was only fear. They were glassy, but the lack of movement meant Guile did not have to take a pulse to know. Her expression meant she had been alive for at least a few seconds before her death, and had suffered. The thought struck him hard, and he felt his eyes moisten. He could not remember the last thing he had said to her, but was positive that it had been something cruel. Guile exhaled, not realizing that he had been holding his breath. He made a strange sound as he did so, unable to form words.

He looked down at his leg, as when he tried to stand he was unable to. Several pieces of wood from the table the blast had destroyed were lodged there. They were bleeding. He attempted to stand again and forced his weight onto his other leg. While he was in pain, and the shock from seeing Hermipises held his heart in his throat, he knew that there were many who were injured and could be in dire need of his expertise.

Guile searched the room for Ree, as he knew that she would have at least a few tools he could use while they waited for the Guard to come.

He looked briefly back at Navarre, and was not sure what to think of her calm expression. There was no time to think. Time went a thousand miles a second, and people needed help.

[Metarie]

*** joint post for Cam and Ree***

Cam’s gaze moved from person to person at the table as Luca spoke. He made silent notes to himself, keeping track of who was pro-Guard and who was pro-Gardener. The latter would need to be watched. He held the look on Vincentius for a moment before turning to follow Metarie away. True to form, not a word was wasted.

Within two steps he was beside her. His expression flickered as he listened to her confidence. There she went again, taking the blame for everything, excited and nervous after having dealt her blow to her would-be peers. Her follow-on comments about Navarre were of more interest, however. He might need to put someone on that Navarre if what Ree said was true.

Barely seconds after Ree’s comment regarding Navarre’s death making her a martyr, there was an explosion followed by screams. Cam grabbed Ree and shielded her with his body and one arm while the other scrambled to shove the helm on his head. He instinctively took her down to the ground with him, making them as small a target as possible to whatever might be going on. He got the helmet mostly in place, evidenced by the stinging sensation as a piece of ceramic flowerpot embedded itself in his hair, just to the right of his forehead. Objects tinged off of his armor covered body. People were falling down. Screaming and the scent of blood filled the hall. Blood ran like a rivulet down his face making him squint his eye. His ear stung, too. He remained poised over her until the explosions subsided.

He looked down. Ree's face was pale and her eyes wide. She had an ugly gash on her right cheek, but no bone showed and she was breathing. She was looking back at him, studying him the same way for injuries.

"Cam!"

"I’ll be fine. Are you hurt anywhere el-" Ree grabbed him and held onto him tightly, a fact that wearing armor made awkward. He let her have a moment to settle while he surveyed the damage.

The explosions silenced, the only sounds were of screaming, crying people. Several were on the ground, some looking as thought hey might be dead. Chairs and tables were splintered and toppled over, porcelin and plaster dust was littered everywhere. There was plenty of panic, but overall he supposed the carnage could have been worse. Shrpanel like this made a mess of soft targets but tended only to kill the few closest to the bombs. He couldn't see anyone obviously responsible, and unless there were more bombs waiting to go off the danger had passed.

Drawing up onto his knees, he searched Ree for further wounds. Her right arm had been bloodied as well, but nothing had lodged in her skin. He swore he heard her sob. "Doctor Sehkhara! Get hold of yourself. People need your help."

She responded by noticing the cut on his face.

"You’re bleeding. Let me see," she petitioned, but he jerked his head away and clamped his hand up against the wound. He didn't have time to worry about it. Ree groped around found her bag and pulled it up beside them. It had been just big enough to fit her emergency medical kit. She wouldn't be her if she didn't have it with her, now would she?

"I'm going to heal you, Cam. We need the Captain just as much as we need the Doctor. These people need a leader."

Camulous responded with a scowl. "Just stuff a cloth on it. I need to see what else has happened."

For a moment, they glared at each other, but Ree was the first to capitulate. She folded over two cloth napkins and held them in place as Cam pulled the helmet fully on his head. Thinking of him leaving made her feel scared.

"I’ll need a triage area, helping hands, and medical supplies."

There. There was the Ree Camulous knew.

"We’ve both got things to do. Are you ready?"

She wanted to hold onto him, but knew she couldn't. Duty came first. Ree nodded and continued, "we’ll have to sort through those who need immediate help and those who can wait. Clean water, clean cloths... we can get those from the kitchen..."

Ignoring the blood and cuts on her arm, Ree held out a hand to Cam. He helped her up. As she stood, she flinched in pain. The skirt of her dress was in tatters. Her left leg had also been cut with various shrapnel, some of which was visible in the wounds. Blood was making a slick puddle near her feet. Cam looked around, now that he was standing. So many people were hurt, people he’d pledged to protect. And Ree... Ree was wrapping makeshift bandages and tying them together on her leg and arm. Already, the white cloth on her leg was speckled with blood. Ree pressed a cloth to her cheek and had begun to limp away. Cam felt anger well up in him and make him numb. It was a cold, cold anger. Whomever had engineered this would pay.

A man staggered passed him in a daze, but not before the captain could grab him by the shoulder and pull him into eye contact. "Help the doctor. Get water and rags." Camulous pointed at Metarie, and spotted another person, a young woman, who was beside herself with fear and confusion. "You too! Help her!"

Slowly they obeyed him, and a few more followed suit, united by some deep understanding that they were Marnian and that a day like this was always just around the corner. The captain of the guard could be a unifying force, even to the most aristocratic of citizenry. It wouldn't take long for the area to be flooded with guardsmen.

Ree began to check those nearest to her. If the person wasn't terribly hurt, they were asked to help with those that were. Giving people tasks helped minimize the confusion, gave them focus. There were three categories: dead or dying; grieviously wounded; and marginally wounded. If anyone came out unscathed who hadn't been wearing armor, it would be a miracle or magic.

Camulous ignored the flash of green in his peripheral vision. It bothered him he had something, someone close to him that he needed to worry about. For years, it'd just been him, by himself, but now he had more than duty to worry about it and he didn't like it. He walked back into what was left of the Gala to find Navarre. If anyone had answers, it would be her.

The helpers she'd garnered had already rushed to bringing tablecloths, water, and anything else they could find. Two people were sent to the hospital to gather more supplies and help. Little did anyone in the room know that outside was just as chaotic as inside, although the injured headcount was probably greatest in the room. From across the room, someone yelled out Ree's name.

"Over here!" She called in response. Ree's gaze fell on Vincentius and Talia, even as she knelt beside someone with a vicious looking gash, wincing as she did, and began to tie off above the cut with a tourniquet. She needed antiseptic, bandages, catgut, and needles to sew up some of these. If she were allowed, she would have used her healing magic to take care of them, but with Guile here...

"Are you two alright? Are you able to help? I need more hands." Teodinus, how many people were in the room??

"Where are those people with my help and supplies?" She muttered.

[Talia Idris]

Talia had chuckled at Tius' comments on the events that she had missed out. Her expression becaming serious when he offered her another beverage, which she had hoped was just punch, and he shared his qualms about the night.

Apparently she hadn't done as good as a job as she thought at calming herself down and hiding what lingering emotions of stress she was feeling. She opened her mouth to respond and try to quell his concern when all hell broke loose.

Only a few seconds had passed but it seemed like an eternity. Her ears were ringing from the explosions that seemed to have from near by and that continued to be going off around the room. The explosions had caused Talia to drop her glass freeing her hands to cover her ears and head just as Tius practically leaped at her, forcing her to the ground before dragging her to shelter behind a table.

She was ashamed to admit later on that she had been practically helpless, if not completely frozen in shock. She was most likely very lucky that Tius had been quick to take action and therefore she only sustained a few nicks and bruises that didn't really register in the moment. Although one flying piece of shrapnel had managed to graze the side of her neck, something that would heal with almost no scar but so much as half an inch to the side could have been deadly.

Tius was speaking to her again, shouting to those around them but she wasn't listening. Her eyes were closed, she shouldn't have come here tonight. She really shouldn't have come. Why did she ever think that this was a good idea?

He stood up and for a moment Talia debated just rolling in a ball and staying where she was until everything was all over and some semblance of order was restored. But her something told her that most likely wasn't a good idea. And this man had been doing a good job at keeping her safe so far although why he was going out of his way to help her was unknown but her best bet was probably staying with him for now. With that in mind she pulled herself together and stood up, thankful that Tius' arms held her tightly, as if keeping her from falling apart.

They hadn't gone far when someone called out and they paused. Talia looked over to see that it had been the doctor who not too long ago had been conversing with the host of this crazy event. She gazed around but there was no one else in their vicinity, she was addressing them. Looking up at Tius she once again debated going with him and getting out of this mess and just putting it behind her or helping out the doctor who seemed overwhelmed with everything that she wanted to do.

In two seconds Talia was wiggling free from Tius' protective grasp and kneeling down beside Metarie. "What can I do?" She managed to squeak, still fighting off her own shock and in slight awe of this woman whose first thought was to help those around her instead of trying to save herself. She was even ignoring some of the socialites demanding attention for minor cuts to tend to those who were wounded worse.

[Haneul]

Navarre’s speech had thrown Haneul, to say the least. It wasn’t what she had expected and it wasn’t what Shanuri had talked to her about. What was going on here? Was Paragon lying to Shanuri and not involving her in everything or was Shanuri lying to her?

An endless time seemed to have passed since Navarre had removed herself from the stage after her speech and Haneul had tried steering Christopher towards various people and tables to overhear anything useful but to no avail. Did anyone know what was going on? Her eyes kept unobtrusively scanning the crowd in hopes of finding Shanuri for a hint but the woman kept escaping her.

For something to do – and considering she usually was part of an ensemble of dancers – Haneul coerced Christopher into dancing. The poor fellow wasn’t very good at it but she merely wanted to move around in a discreet manner to overhear potentially interesting conversations. People were confused and not just a little intrigued by what was occurring at this gala. Opinions were formed quickly and vehemently, though some were dismissed just as rapidly again. There was a lot of talk about the involvement, or lack thereof, of the Guard in uncovering the murderer, musings about why Lady Isyrion was the one to announce this tragic event to the public.

One thing was clear however. The crowd was tense and it made Haneul even tenser than she already was. Not in the least because she regularly had to pinch Christopher into submission when his hand began to dip lower than it should. If he kept this up, her control would start waning and she could not have that. She could not afford to draw magical attention by anyone, even less so with all the charms stashed away in her hairdo.

Then, seemingly to make matters worse, Lady Isyrion and Lady Sehkhara got into an argument. Without much consideration for the man from whose arm she was supposedly dangling, Haneul made her way to the proximity of the top table, though she wouldn’t have needed to. The suddenly raised voices carried a little further than the participants themselves were most likely aware of. That was when people really started murmuring, taking sides and pointing fingers.

Haneul once again scanned the crowd to find Shanuri and finally, finally she spotted the woman, heading off towards the backstage area in preparation. Though the woman’s back was to her and she could thus not communicate with her boss. But at least they seemed to still be on track.

The argument itself wasn’t all that interesting in the end. It wasn’t anything they didn’t know and Haneul soon moved Christopher away again. Only to be completely surprised by a scream and a vast array of flowerpots suddenly exploding all over the place.

Instinct instantly taking over, Haneul dragged Christopher down and towards one of the tables, trying to avoid shrapnel as much as possible, and pushing him underneath with his face flat on the ground. She didn’t want him to end up being killed. They might still need him after all. She already sported a long cut on her arm but she ignored the blood streaming down in thick rivulets but she ignored it as she grabbed a couple of chairs by their legs and dragged them as closely to the table as possible, using them as make-shift shields against the projectiles.

“We should get out of here,” Christopher said, his voice cracking in fear. The screams got louder and louder, and more and more bodies seem to crash to the ground around them, not to mention the shredded tablecloth. Haneul ignored him and kept his head pressed into the floor while she tried to assess the situation.

Pain in her leg made her look down and fish out no less than two nails and a shard of a pot from her upper thigh, causing more bloodloss. Anger was pulsing through her and she could feel her control waver dangerously. ‘This is not the time, chill.’

Where was Shanuri?!

“We should go!! We need to get out of here!” Christopher said again, this time more vehemently in his rising panic, despite his face being a little distorted from being pushed against the floor. It was all that he didn’t start thrashing and fighting her. Haneul just shook her head at him, waiting for the end of the explosions. They would be torn to shreds like everyone else if they ran out now. They were still in relative safety underneath the table, most of the flying objects found other targets in all the people rushing past in their panic to rush to the only exit they knew.

It was then that she noticed that a pool of blood was forming under Christopher’s face and she gave him a sharp look. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere?” he whimpered until Haneul slapped him, hard. “I think something scratched just past my eye which worries me the most. But the rest, I’ll deal.” ‘Bless him’, Haneul thought sarcastically, but at least he put on a brave face but there were tears in his eyes. It was their luck that they had been out on the dancefloor and thus further away from the flowerpots when the explosions had started and a mass of people shielding them after that.

Looking out from under the table when it finally quietened down except for a few moans, whimpers and generally exclamations of sorrow and pain, Haneul spotted a bright red dress. Not losing another second, she grabbed Christopher and dragged him out from under the table and up on his feet. “Let’s go, now!”

Both of them were struggling not to limp too much as they hurried to catch up with Shanuri, on her way to the exit. Fresh air would do them all good. In more way than one.

“Is everything alright?” Haneul asked when Shanuri suddenly froze in her tracks just as the two of them caught up to the performer. The question was directed in a more general sense and not just at the current situation or the reason for the woman stopping.
Somehow everything had gone to shit.