[center][b]Gala Ball; Rustle[/b]
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As Kouri's hand gestured in the direction of a far wall of the ballroom, the light generated by Amanda illuminated a figure somewhat surrounded by men and women in elaborate and gaudy clothing, showing off their wealth and nobility with ornamentation. The nobles of a few different locale paused to look at what the light touched, and their eyes widened as what most had assumed to be but an oddly place, grim statue of a skeleton, stirred. Its bones were mottled of aged ivory and stains of brown, a heavy woolen tabard draped over its shoulders; edged in fine leather, a black border around sable, in the center, front and back, a silver shield over a black tree embroidered with care. At it's left waist hung a field ready arming sword, rather than the ornate weapons of decor and office that presided at such an affair; plain brass quillions, a stacked leather grip, and a circular pommel. The scabbard was embellished only by the engraving of the Queen's Blades symbol near the mount. 

The skeleton's head pivoted as the people around him stepped back from what they now realized wasn't just a mildly macabre statue that seemed slightly out of place in such an elegant setting. They gave it space once realizing that it was aware, more than a few expressions of unease, or possibly disgust being readable upon their face. Whether it was for his lack of flesh, or his lowly attire, he likely would never know. Not that he was inclined to ask. Instead, Russel turned and started a slow pace around the room, his head slowly pivoting as he took in the sights, and the mingling dignitaries. Himself remaining quiet as he moved, only cracking his jaw to offer an earily toned expression of his desire to move through a cluster of people too wide to circle about.

He walked with his left hand over the mount of his blade's scabbard, keeping the steel under control as he moved with a familiarity that, when he thought about it, made him curious. It was obvious that he was a man of blade, bow and spear when he was flesh and whole, that much was clear. But what position did he hold? He was able to read and write, and knew sword play to a better degree than some, which seemed like he wasn't quite a peasant, nor a member of a part time militia. Even now, these sights, these sounds seemed intangibly familiar. Was he a guard? A member of a city watch? A soldier, a knight or lord? Every time he discovered something that seemed familiar, it sparked more questions, fanning that flame of curiosity that he wanted to solve just who he was, or had been.

Something jostled him, a weight impacting his right leg. Looking down ot of his thoughts, he was greeted with the stare of immense blue eyes of a little girl with deep brown hair. She wore an expensive little cotehardie of violet velvet, adorned with golden buttons down the front, and a pattern picked out in silver and yellow thread of flowers and stars around the collar and sleeves that transitioned to silky lace from just past her shoulders. Her hair was done neatly in braids, netted with laced pearls. She flashed him a smile as two young boys of roughly the same age, caught up to her before she took off again with a quiet shriek of youthful playfulness.

Suddenly his vision blurred, shifting, fading, as colours muted and sounds grew dim and muffled. His view chased a silken train through pale golden light, between canyons of people dressed in particoloured hose and elegant gowns. He jerked slightly as he caught himself, trying to orientate his mind, he scanned around, the faded shadows of the vision had dissolved. Everything was as it was. Confusion set in as he grasped at what that vision meant, [i]A memory?[/i]

Overwhelming, the noise of the people around him caught him off guard, it was uncomfortable, hard to think, distracting, jarring his mind as he heard the conversations of hundreds of people crashing into each other, each voice getting mingled with another, words shattering into shards of unintelligible sound. Quietly, he excused himself through the throngs of people, seeking empty air.