Slim... Yes, today was a day for unwarranted Noms de Guerre. Dr. Swamp shook his head, attempting to brush away the pseudo-insults of the plebeians from his mind. Admittedly, he was rather slender. The manner in which he pointed it out, and then scooped up his potential patient without so much as a "by your leave, sir" smacked of a point of overconfidence that was likely birthed of the rather pedestrian ability to move large sacks of grain or lay bricks in a straight line. Well, it was of no importance in the long run and certainly didn't affect his reason for being at Shadowell Manor on this evening. In fact, the sudden lack of medical emergency to deal with made his entry a lot less complicated. If the lady(?) perished in the meantime, it would be upon the hands of whomever that ruffian was. Not that he expected a death; but again her death or her recovery was not material to his motivation for being there. The Doctor would, if the situation warranted it, deal with the man or merely ignore him at his leisure.

On the other hand, the fellow in the long nosed mask, with that everpresent bird. He showed some signs of being interesting; speaking in some manner of flowery pentameter. Perhaps he was an entertainer of some note; though were he of note his clothing might have been of better quality. Nonetheless, Dr. Swamp did enjoy the antics of a good show or dramatic reading every now and again, when work permitted. So much to do in this day and age that required the steady hand and sharp mind of a Doctor. So little time for festivities. Perhaps the man really was famous, and sought to disguise himself in the rags of a common street performer. Yes, he would inquire later. Later.

For now, Dr. Swamp was somewhat more captivated by the machine coming toward them all. Interesting, really. Beyond anything he had personal witnessed around the city, insofar as reliably transporting more than a couple of people, and the light sources had interesting features. Steam, obviously. Very interesting indeed. He took it in at a casual glance, giving a nod of his head to the fellow who introduced himself as Owen, and moving ever forward until he located the nearest empty seat. It appeared stable enough. Settling in, the esteemed Doctor waited patiently for the machine to rail them to the Manor proper. And then, to the Masquerade.

As Mounte Bank observed the carriage slowly engulfed by the hazy fog of the Shadowell forest, his mind was captivated by the beauty of it. On a normal day, the difference between losing oneself out here and getting out in one piece is insignificant, seeing how dense the forest is. The sun seems to have forsaken this center of the world, as clouds roll by and block its light from revealing the forest’s wickedness and its vicious nature among the inhabitants under these shades. Who could tell how many corpses had lain beneath and become fertile for the trees in here to grow so high? Who could tell how many poisonous and venomous being had called this place as home?

But even the purgatory has a way out. In the middle of the dense forest, amidst of the dead trees and leaves, of rotting carcasses and sharp twigs that protrude from the grounds like fingers of the dead, a clear path paves through hell. But isn’t it a little bit strange for a group of unsocialized people to have a well-maintained path? But then again, this can be the only hospitality that the owner could spare for his guest before sending his henchmen to murder the trespassers and thieves that “accidentally lost.”

Despite for whatever purpose the road and the house were originally built for, it would be safe to assume the place would seem to be crowded. And, hopefully, livelier as well.

But as they ventured deeper into the thick smog, the carriage goes slower and slower until came to a crawling speed of a turtle. The violent vibration from wheels against the pebbles beneath slowly turned into a mother cradling her child to sleep. But no one dared to let their heavy eyelids to close down. For maybe, a thief could be just waiting to slit their throats open at the next sharp turn, or a pack of wolves is on the hunt, trying to scramble some small piece of meat for their winter.

Like a small island during an angry typhoon, the three men bundles to each other for a limited chance to stay alive. The postillion focused on directing the pair of horses on their path, sometimes cracking whips beside them to force the frightened beings to move onward. Beside him, the stable boy is constantly on the lookout, carefully picking up strange noises against the hooves of the horses and the heavy wheel on the road. The lanterns provide a pleasant light against the snapping cold of mid-winter but seem to be so useless in indicating the road ahead. And where was Mounte Bank? Oh, he was in the carriage, finding himself to be sipping a cup of cold tea and biting to some mints while repeating the alias. Some may call him a rude person for not being more helpful. But in Mounte Bank’s experience, it is best to leave the professional to do their jobs.

Suddenly, the sound of dogs barking can be heard; followed by the sound of something rusty and heavy was slowly opened. A soft knock on the door, followed by the high pitch of the stable boy confirming that they have come to place. Checking to see if he had left anything behind, Mounte walks proudly outside of his carriage, only to be welcomed by the cold embracement of winter. I am too old for this, he thinks before pulling his coats closer to each other and walk over to the welcoming committee. But maybe he was too hopeful as the committee turned out to be worse. The vision of something lively and elegance now turned upside down into a hole for bandits and thugs to gather around during the cold winter. Giving a nod of recognition to the servants, Mounte handed the invitation to the one that was opening his palm. And while doing so, the dogs’ eyes followed every movement of the stranger before him. Checking to see if he forgot leaving anything behind, Mounte walks proudly outside of his carriage, only to be welcomed by the cold embracement of winter. And despite having the urge to just asking the servants to gut them, Mounte held the grudges against the four-legged pals deep in his heart. For although he might be guest, Mounte wasn’t sure what is the view of the Ambesires owner toward these masked visitors. Each here might be kings and queens, head of strong families or the walking sin for others. Or whatever that couple doing, resting in each other arms like that during this social meeting. But he paid no mind for those fruitless things. It is best to leave it for the professional, he thinks before silently taking one of the middle seats on the strange transportation. Letting his eyes to rest, Mounte Bank prepares himself for what the future may give.

A toothy grin remained on the lips of the towering man as he cradled Kindle in his arms. His head tilting down as there was a shake or was it a shiver? It didn't matter. Adjusting his grip he breathed out and stood tall as he cradled the body closer. Seemed there was quite the crowd gathering, a rather colorful one. The screeching made him turn his head and his eyes narrowed at the brightness cutting through the low light of the new night. Seemed something was coming. "Well ain't that a damn sight." He was more of a statement than a question when it came into view.

The chairs, were not exactly the largest in comparison to the man himself. Much less with another. "This better be a woman." His words were to himself because it seemed that there was no other offering aide, just stating the obvious. Taking long heavy steps he wandered passed those who had already claimed the first chairs. "One little, two little, three little, four little," he half sung off key as he walked.

Stopping he turned his rear to the chair and sat down. The chair creaked under the weight. Maneuvering the body he rested Kindle down, sitting the ragdoll upright in his lap and wrapping one arm around the small waist and placing a large hand on Kindles shoulder to keep them upright. Placing his boots on the foot rest the man might have looked to others like he was about to perform some sort of ventriloquist act at the kiddie table. The chair was too small, he was too large, and his baggage... well that was another story.

Rave swallowed once she was through the outer gateway and into the grounds of the manor proper. Still far away from the actual manor itself, but already one step closer to the bastard who held her weakness. She had to find a way to deal with it tonight, couldn't risk it continuing any further anymore. The extortion had to stop one way or another. Then a strange noise caught her attention as something was coming closer to them spewing smoke into the air. Then the orbs of light, the sounds of metals and cogs. What manner of thing was getting ever closer to them? Well her nervousness continued as she clenched a fist and the ferret showed it's head from her pocket. It was some kind of machine that had a man operating it. It had seats to and apparently they had to take a seat so she gulped quietly.

She studied the machine for a few moments, taking in all it's components as far as she could see. Prima had seen steam engines before. In cities you could see small ones that could pull a person or two, but this was the first time she seen one big like this. Seemed more advanced than those in cities. Did they make it here? This question was weighting in her mind as she noticed the other people were taking seats so she hurried along.

While moving about to take a seat, she quickly threw glances from under the mask to the other people who got onto seats before her. There was a wide variety of personas in different clothing. Prima wondered how many of them were actual nobility and how many were not. Maybe it was down for the clothing, but clothing could also lie. Appearances could be deceiving after all, but not always. Some looked in better condition than others which was also a clue, but she kept quiet as she walked past the rather unusual looking seats. She wasn't sure, she was ready to put her trust into these, but what choice did she have? Finally she moved past the really big fellow who was carrying the rather light looking person who fell unconscious by the gate. Well she could only say light looking because in comparison to the one carrying them, they looked tiny. She thought about it and decided there was a good chance it was a woman. Still she just took the next seat by them and kept quiet, as she reached to pet the ferret in her coat's pocket. The little thing's fur felt quite soft to her chilled hands.

Walnut looked on without much interest as a woman collapsed - at least, she assumed it was a woman. Titian's comments caused a slight bit of amusement for her, but she didn't pay much attention to Kindle's plight. The giant seemed to be relatively interested in attending to the situation anyways. The only thing that could potentially interest Walnut further would be if it did turn out to be a man - would the giant drop him like a sack?

Another second later and her attention had snapped back to the man with the raven. Her eyes widened in horror, watching as the bird seemed to be sticking its beak in his ear! Images of the raven plucking out the man's brain and feasting upon it filled her mind. Then would come more birds to pick away at the dead body, feasting off of it. And he didn't seem to be alarmed at all! She found herself enthralled by the man, just as much as she was fearful of the damned near pigeon that seemed to be his pet. Walnut was shocked that others didn't seem to be reacting to this monster in their midst.

Her attention was once more yanked away from the beast at the sound of a sharp whistle, as servants seemed to emerge from the greenery. They went off to attend to the carriages and horses, yet Walnut's eyes were on the beautiful contraption and its master that came into view. She wanted to sit as far near its conductor as she could, in order to learn what she could about it, yet the first six seats had already filled so she settled for the seventh. She overheard one woman make a comment that she wished to arrive in one piece - but if she couldn't appreciate the machine's beauty, Walnut wouldn't have particularly cared if the woman arrived in seven to eight pieces.

A familiar rocking sensation gentled the Director into consciousness. The sharp blue eyes made their appearance from behind the lids. Still a bit hazy and unfocused the two orbs wondered around confusedly, until they finally rested on a face, obscured by a gilded domino mask, decorated with cog wheels and other bits and bobs. A set of deep, amused, mocha eyes looked out from behind the mask. Suddenly the Director realized that the familiar sensation wasn’t familiar at all and Kindle was seated in the lap of a rather burly man.

Panic set in!

Gone was the slow breathing of an unconscious person. Slowly, but steadily the Director began to hyperventilate and the pulse beneath the high collar of the three piece suite began to beat like crazy. The body that had laid limp in the arms of Mr. Titian was now tense like a bowstring. And just when the Director was about to burst into a flurry of punches and kicks, the blue eyes focused on the gilded mask. The Mask! The invitation. The other matter! Those beastly dogs with their ugly snarls and vicious barking. It was all coming back now! Ugh?! I must have lost consciousness. Director Kindle’s labored breathing quieted. The body relaxed perceptibly, but was still coiled in apprehension. How mortifying!

“Would you mind terribly puttin' me down, please?” The Director’s raspy voice inquired from behind the mask in such a polite and shaky manner, it was almost timid. “I am ever so grateful for your assistance, however I’m quite fine now.” Kindle’s law-pitched voice was muffled further by the mask, which didn’t have a mouth slit. The Director felt slightly uncomfortable being held in the lap of a stranger like some damsel in distress and barely managed to suppress the urge to fidget. Looking about Kindle noticed everyone attending this Masquerade was milling about to seat themselves in the same contraption the giant man was sitting with his precious cargo. Namely, the Director!

Still a bit put aback by the fainting spell Director Kindle thought it wise to wait with the assessment of each individual and their possible motives for being here. For it was not the masks they all wore for this particular event that concealed a person’s true colors. No! It was the ones people put on every day that really mattered. Weather that mask was truly you or the one you wanted people to believe was the real you. Director Kindle would need to peek behind those masks to unravel the mystery. But for now Kindle just looked expectantly at the man holding her in his lap.

Quite amazed by the crowd that had amassed itself for this event, Miss Creme had a look of astonishment on her face. Seeing all these people around was a sight to see, but made her that much more conscious about herself. Unconsciously, she adjusted her posture to keep her standing as straight as she could, with her hands clutching onto each other tightly behind her. She had jumped in surprise at the site of the machination as it rolled into view, letting out a small "Oh my!", having never seen anything like that before. Covering her ears as it came to a stop, she gave the man piloting it a startled look. So they'd be riding that to the manor? She did find it quite fascinating to look at, but she wasn't sure how she felt about the safety of riding it.

Stuck where she was, not quite wanting to get on something that looked so haphazardly thrown together, but also knowing she couldn't very well leave. She steeled herself and deciding that at least she would soon be out of the cold, she moved herself slowly forward towards the vehicle. Not quite knowing who to sit next to, she left it up to fate, and took free seat that lacked any neighbors. She did find the seats quite odd, but she wall small enough that she could comfortably sink back into them. It was very nice to finally get off her feet and have a sit. So nice, in fact, that she decided to pull her legs up to her chest, sitting in an almost fetal position in the chair. She could very much use a rest at this point, and took a small second before the ride started up, to rest her eyes, closing them for just a little while.

She didn't intend by any means to fall asleep, but she was relaxing herself pretty well. After a few moments, she creaked her eyes back open, deciding it best not to risk going unconscious around a ton of strangers. Curled up in her chair, she gave a yawn, carefully covering her mouth as she did so. Miss Creme was very comfortable here, her coat functioning as almost a kind of blanket, keeping her warm and snug on the seat. She pulled the lower half of her face into the collar of her jacket, and exhaling, warming up her cheeks considerably. Smiling at herself, she rested her head against the back of her seat, pulling her face out of her jacket a tiny bit to accommodate this.

She was quite distracted by the number of people that had gathered that she almost got over the fact no one had responded to her question. Almost. She glanced from one to the other, imagining all the dirty secrets and delightful dangers each one may or may not possess. After all, if they were here for the same reason as she, then things were about to get interesting and fun.

And speaking of fun, there was a light amidst the darkness. She seemed to radiate even in the darkest of times. She looked like a porcelain doll that could crack if someone so much as looked at her the wrong way. Debutante Blush was desperate to meet her and she could not place why. She wanted to talk to her, share stories with her, she just wanted to be near her. Even the loud, screeching noise that interrupted their night could not down such a treasure as this lady.

So when tasked with finding a seat, Debutante Blush did her best to secure one close to the girl. After all, they would be sitting next to one another and that often led to conversation, did it not? It would be rude not to talk with those you were next to, even if they were boring old fuddies. This girl though seemed the opposite of that and she looked forward to entertaining her.

Debutante Blush stepped over, ignoring the collapsed person unknown (how one could faint was beyond her. Probably did it for the attention) and sat down after the delicate flower did. She turned to face the girl and speak, only to find her eyes closed and she fast asleep. It had been a tiring journey, one could hardly blame her. Still, Debutante Blush was eager to make her acquaintance. Debutante Blush ignored the others, sitting in her own chair keeping an eye on the sleeping girl, ever so desperate for her to peek her eyes open. So when she did and settled up, Debutante Blush took initiative. "Had a good rest, petal? Hope you don't mind me sitting next to you. Figured ladies should stick together."

Cobalt didn't respond to the strangely dressed woman, that was the first to follow him. But he couldn't help but look after her as she strode past. Her full face mask was an oddity, but it was the sky-blue hair that was most curious to Cobalt. He couldn't recall seeing anyone with that shade of hair during his travels, and decided he would strive to discover what leant it it's unnatural hue. His attention was quickly pulled back to his immediate surroundings as he felt fabric running against his leg.

He turned in time to see the tall and slender owner of said fabric stepping past him. He had noticed the woman before, but seeing her up close, she only intrigued him further. The intricately decorated volto mask that she wore concealed everything but her eyes, but he couldn't help but appreciate what he could see, the dark dress that draped across the slim figure. To his surprise, she turned to him after taking her seat, sighing slightly before speaking, the voice seeming like music after the frigid cold, and the pounding noise of the engine.

He smiled widely, turning his body towards her as he replied, his voice soft as he resorted to his usual charm, his dark eyes meeting her blue.

"A little cold, but all the warmer now I'm in your company, Miss..."

Before their conversation could continue, it was suddenly cut short by a figure taking the seat between them. Cobalt's smile faded for an instant, before he regained his composure. The figure was one of the handful of other male guests, a distinctive bird-like mask on his face. Cobalt shifted slightly, preparing to rise as he spoke to the man, his very voice oozing politeness.

"Pardon me, sir, but I hope you won't be adverse to us trading seats? I was hoping to continue conversing with the young lady."

She passed through the gate simply, preferring to not wait any longer to head to the manor itself. The group of people gathered looked to be an interesting sort to say the least, though she did wonder what went through the mind of the woman who had passed out. Of all times to collapse, she had chosen to fall over right then. They weren't even at the manor itself, and she had decided to fall unconscious. There wasn't anything she was going to do about it of course, but she couldn't help but pity the woman, at least a little bit. The others in the group intrigued her, and she wondered more about them, but now was not the time to ask anything of the sort, as she heard the loud whistle.

The sound was strange, she had no idea what it was. It wasn't a very pleasant sound, that much she did know as she looked over as the contraption came into view. There were supposed to ride that thing? It definitely didn't look to be a very safe contraption, but she guessed it couldn't be helped. Penance made her way to the back sort of area, and took a seat in one of the chairs. She wondered just how bumpy this ride was going to be, though she supposed there were worse ways to get from one place to another. She remained silent, despite being curious about those around her, she wasn't in any particular mood to really start a conversation with one of them

Cas the guardian, with the eyes of jade,
Beckoning to them, collects them all together,
Beats with his oar whoever lags behind.

Quite a gathered lot. fifteen chairs by the count, a throne for each guest. One by one they staked their claim, not in any particular order as it seemed. Some took to their seats before some others after a marvel at what strange means of transport would get them to the actual manor. Another layer of security perhaps? Or was it indeed so far a walk from this point to the warmth of the manor itself that such a cogworthy craft was needed? Or simply the mode for the stupidly rich? Not just the wealthy who could afford such a horseless carriage, but to afford something like this> Pulled along the track as if by magic. And that was the key wasn't it? To impress and inspire, to amuse and awe, the methods and means to demonstrate one power and prominence. This thing was merely a taste of what the guests could expect, as one by one they boarded. They had entered the gates, and there their ferryman greeted them openly while dressed in a suit befitting the devil himself. The imps had gone to steal the horses away from those who brought them. It appeared that tonight, they only had the clothes on their back, and whatever they took with them.

Some came richly, some came poorly, but all came mysteriously no doubt. Even the one that succumbed to the cold found themselves in the arms of some brutish oaf. Cradled indeed by a thoroughbred steed, but to the meathead's surprise they began to rise, and protest the embrace in an attempt to face. The raven-clad man tutted and stroked his raven's crest of feathers as he took his strides parading past the rest. Pacing down and then back up the queer machine to his right, a vexing vehicle like none other across the land no doubt. Was it safe? Not the screaming metal death trap, but the invitation. The mask hides the face, but who had faced the Ambesire? A puzzle beyond the machine, a conundrum yet to be seen. A sideways glance to his right at the other bird beaker in the second seat, what sort of man was he? Would he move out of courtesy? Or stand his ground and keep his seat? A challenge to his authority. Not wanting to bring too much attention to himself or his avian acquaintance yet, he backtracked his steps to the fifteenth position and gingerly sat in the final seat. Perhaps it was the safest place to be, should the entire vehicle come to a rather explosive demise. Far away from the blast, and the one to have the greatest chance of escaping no doubt.

Sixteen chairs to fill and use,
Quickly choose, choose, and choose,
With so many more come far before us,
We'll claim the seat most perilous.

Another singsong tune muttered perhaps in madness to the raven on his shoulder.

Glancing to her side for a moment as another person passed by her, Madam Mauve's nose wrinkled slightly underneath her mask as the tobacco smoking woman took the seat behind her. Her gaze otherwise returned to the man she had just instigated a conversation with. Her head tilted a bit to the side as her dark blue eyes roamed what she could see of the man's face, and she took in the warmth of his smile with a sense of satisfaction. Her brows rose imperceptibly at the man's flattering words in reply.

However, before she could share any sort of words or sentiment in return, another man abruptly stepped in to take the seat between them. A part of her couldn't help but feel a tad disappointed. Perhaps had she been brazen enough to just take the second seat in the first place, their conversation wouldn't have ended as quickly as it had begun. But no, for propriety's sake, considering there were plenty of other available seats elsewhere, she had left a single seat as a buffer between her and the man in the devil mask. She didn't want to seem like a Rake or something, after all.

Her brows rose again, but even more significantly this time, at the devil masked man's sudden proclamation to this newcomer. "You're a brazen one, now aren't you?" she retorted. The words themselves perhaps would imply that the man had crossed a line, yet the teasing quality to her velvety voice said otherwise. Her gaze gravitated to the man between them. "What say you, sir? May you let this gentleman trade seats with you? Of course, if it is too much of an inconvenience, by all means you may remain seated," she added politely. Her gaze seemed to shift between the two, curious as to what would transpire next. All the while, out of the corner of her eye she watched as the others boarded the vehicle of a sort.

Owen was far from being particularly smooth when he spoke, being rather inarticulate as Cobalt was the first to pass the gate. "Then you in for some shit," he let slip past his lips. At the gate, Leo kept taking the invitations but any words spoken to him were missed as he gawked at Owen and gave him this look that blatantly screamed, dude, shut the fuck up! Owen was oblivious to it. His eyes were on Madam Envy. "Oh ain't you be worryin' 'bouts nuting ma'am. She be as solid as Garudarf Peaks." Patting the chugging contraption as if it was a child who had just made his papa proud.

A lean man with steely eyes gazed up from the book his nose had been buried in, it in one hand and his revolver in the other. There was a quirk on his attractive face as Plum walked by. He said not a word, just a tilt of the head before his eyes traveled back to his book. His eyes moving in lines back and forth. "Boss! Missing two from the count," Leo said in a shrill of a voice that seemed to crack from the octave it gained.

Cas nodded and looked back towards the horses and carriages. There was one for sure that was still outside of the gate. Stepping over to one that had yet to say a word or move from the saddle of his horse. "You need to get moving son. In or out," he said in a patient but still booming voice. As far as the second one missing, there was no one else currently to be seen either inside or outside of the gate. Reaching up he scratched the short gray mustache on his face and looked further down the road before pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. It was just past five in the evening, the day light had fully set and darkness had set in.

The arm tightened around the figure he was holding onto, his hand on the shoulder steadying as the figure finally woke. Then they spoke. "A woman, now that just made my night," Titian said as grin grew on his features. His teeth framed by dark whiskers, a beard that came down to a point slightly below his strong jaw line. "Are you sure you want to be put down?" he asked as his chin tilted down to look her in the eyes. His arm squeezed slightly around her waist line for a moment as his hand came off her shoulder.

Stroking his beard he leaned back fully in the chair now, shifting his lap slightly. His pinky ring striking against the dark mass of hair. His attention waned as the shrill of a voice broke the air. Leaning slightly as his arm remained around her waist he looked towards the chairs in front of them, then turned, looking at the line of chairs behind them. Slowly he got comfortable again, as much as he could for his size in this chair. "Only two chairs left, and apparently two more people coming. Does a lady really want to make someone else have to share a seat?" That grin turned into a cheshire like grin before he finally released his arm from around her waist, tucking both his hands behind his head and swayed his knees left and right slowly.

"What happens if you have to share a seat with a perfect stranger?" he said with a laugh.

The sound of blatant flirting was far louder than the sound of the coughing engine. A usual description for the mechanical entity's sound was 'roaring', but in this case Lady Lechery believed a more appropriate word was 'choking'. Could be because of the weather. Could be because of the lack of maintenance, but then again the Ambesires were a well known family, and that meant they probably had resources to keep their machines operational. The last option, she assumed, was that it just sounded like that.

The more prominent sound, at least to her ears, was the perceived attempt at seduction occurring a few seats ahead of her. The large fellow looked like a bit of an oaf to her, so she figured the person, who had collapsed, and turned out to be a female, was in distress. How convenient, then, that there was a seat right in front of the blue-haired lady. A thought made its way through her mind.

"Miss, there is a spot right here... I doubt you'd mind some more... Refined company." She called, raising her voice so it could be heard by the targeted individual, who happened to be quite intriguing for her at the moment.

The rest of the bunch was questionable at best. There were a few interesting guests, such as the one who had yet to dismount the horse. What a strange thing to do, just sit there and look. Lady Lechery made the chair rotate a small bit, but it did not do much in the way of movement. It did lower the strain she would have to put on herself to look at the other candidates for visual evaluation. The interesting ones were all ahead of her, except for a morsel that happened to be dressed much like a maid. Who dressed up like a maid to such an event, unless she, or he, wanted to be mistaken for one with such a profession?

The unnatural silence that usually blanketed Shadowell Forest was broken all around Master Tack as he rode forwards. At a full gallop on his horse, with a constant, rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump ringing out as hooves hammered into the road, hardened in these wintery conditions. The cold air pulled at his skin in the few places it was exposed, and stung his face. Certainly, he shouldn't be travelling this quickly, or at least shouldn't have needed to. Tack had come maybe a third of the way before realising he didn't have his invitation, and so ensued a rush home to retrieve the vital document, and a greater rush still to ensure he arrived on time - which, currently, was failing, but at least not by much. He'd be late, but maybe not so late so as to miss his chance at the Masquerade.

Tack continued to ride, and soon enough the manor was faintly visible through the fog. He couldn't make out details yet, but there was a faint orange glow coming from that direction. He drew his horse to a stop carefully, so that it wouldn't slip, and looked carefully at the light, one hand on his chin, thumb shaking slightly. It was probably safe, right? And if not, he was a long way away. He could always turn around, couldn't he? Anyway, there were other possible explanations. Gas lights made the most sense, yes, that would probably be it. With the days so short and the light already fading, the owners would want their property to be well-lit. That must be it.

Master Tack arrived at the gates shortly afterwards. His horse had barely stopped when he jumped out of the saddle, hitting the ground noisily. Handing off the reins to whoever came to take his horse, he immediately hurried forwards to the gate, procurring his invitation and rapidly saying "Terribly sorry, I was delayed, I left-" before cutting himself off as he realised that the gatekeeper (Leo, though Tack did not know his name) probably did not care why he was late so much as the simple fact that he was late. "Well," he said, "I'm here now."

After being let through the gate, Master Tack would then immediately head towards the strange vehicle, assuming nothing would happen to prevent this. Seeing two seats free and someone else being invited to one of them already, he would make his way to the other seat, between Miss Creme and Master Plum, giving an acknowledging nod to anyone who seemed to pay him any particular attention, but not yet saying anything.

Kindle was still peering expectantly at the big man when he spoke cheekily from behind a dark mustache and beard. She felt him squeeze her waist for a fraction of a moment before resting his hand there unmoving. The other one, however went to play with his beard and the Director followed the motion with her eyes. Unfortunately for Director Kindle the trek through the forest and the consequent fainting incident had left her body battered and weakened and she had barely any strength and will to combat the biting winter cold. She still had a bit of trouble focusing her eyes and the big guy was giving off a wave of warmth that threatened to lull her into inaction. And the Director couldn't help but be reminded of all the freezing winter mornings when all she wanted to do was burrow in deeper into the warm and fuzzy comfort of her bed. Instead of getting up and doing what needed to be done during the day.

"Oh, but you are a charming rascal!" Kindle's husky voice accused with a chuckle and a chattering of teeth after the man had spoken. "And maybe I was fixin' to have some pretty lady in my lap as well." The Director's twang was refined as it was pronounced. Although the obvious chattering of teeth made everything she said a bit comical. She smiled politely and stood up when the man released his hold on her and put his arms behind his head, looking like the cat that ate the canary. "S'pose I'll try my luck with one of the other chairs, stranger or no. After all... you are a rather large fellow and this chair can barely fit you, let alone me as well." Director Kindle stepped down from the small platform, using her walking stick to steady her haggard body. "Again, I am ever so grateful." She spoke with a slight bow of her head.

It was at that moment that a female voice called out to her. The Director turned her head to see a blue-haired woman with a strange, full, angular mask inviting her to take the seat in front of her, tempting Kindle with the promise of a better company. Oh, I don't know, dear lady. The Director thought. That rascal there's grown on me a bit. Still, it would have been inappropriate of me to ride in his lap. "Thank you kindly, ma'am. But I do believe I would prefer the view from the back much better. There seems to be still one unoccupied chair left in the back." Kindle answered with a polite bow, but turning to head for the penultimate seat she saw a man in a fancy suit, blond hair and a black domino mask with gold ornaments take the chair in a rush.

Director Kindle sighed in defeat. That position would have been so much more advantageous than a chair in the middle of the column. Still with no more free seats Kindle leaned on her walking stick heavily and quietly walk towards the eighth chair. She briefly glanced at the blue-haired woman who'd invited her to sit in front of her and was momentarily taken aback by her revealing dress. I soft pink glow would have appeared on Director Kindle's cheeks had the cold not taken care of that already. As it stood Kindle averted her gaze, but not before muttering a quiet 'Ma'am' and took her seat. She shivered violently and tried to hug herself as best she could to keep whatever warmth was left in her body.

Finding a seat was simple enough. As it turned out, there was one right by the front, and within clear view of the machine pulling them all toward the Manor. The building itself beckoned in the distance, filling the whole of his attention and quite dislodging the transportation machine from his thoughts. Yes, he was there for highly specific reason. He meant to handle his business and return to his work elsewhere. Enough dallying.

Dr. Swamp was fortunate enough to have found a more or less comfortable seat within which he could rest his legs. He had leaned his stout, knob headed cane between his legs and was just beginning to settle in for the ride to Shadowell Manor proper, when he got inadvertently dragged into a conversation, of which he didn't recall making any indication he wished to contribute.

Point of fact, the baseline effrontery offered by the man in the devil mask narrowed the eyes of Dr. Swamp and made him question, almost question out loud, who in the imprecise yet actual hell he thought he was to ask him such a query. Did he not see the man relying upon a stick to assist in his forward mobility, and had just found repose in a perfectly untended chair? Had he not chosen to sit away from the object of his conversational attention, or barring that, had the lady not chosen to put a seat's worth of distance between the two of them? And who was he to insinuate himself closer to a lady who, by the words she had chosen for the man was looking for an excuse to have a buffer between them. It was not the case that the good Doctor wished to be a hero for any damsels needing rescue, but gave partial excuse for the level of inaction planned for the occasion.

Dr. Swamp rubbed his leg just above the knee with one hand, the other calmly upon the knob of his cane. He then leaned forward, mimicking the stance of the man who had just finished speaking to him and turned the beak of his osseous, avian mask toward him. Swamp cleared his throat, so as not to be misunderstood by the conversational nuances of the day, and spoke a single, elongated, stressed syllable, "NO."

Settling back in his seat, Dr. Swamp placed both of his hands atop his cane. He nodded to the lady in full mask and provocative dress to his other side, and looked toward the Manor again. They could not get there fast enough.

Madam Envy was settling in her seat nicely, taking mild comfort in the young conductor's remark, her mask steadily looking ahead and disregarding the people that passed her by. The coolness had remained heavy for her breathing, yet still being able to manage for now. It's nothing that never happened before, although not as common as she would want it to. For this reason, among many more, is why she hated the cold.

From her view she caught sight of an interesting exchange between the woman in front of her and the man on the first seat. She watched and listened, but found herself unconsciously drifting to a dear and personal memory a long time ago. This put a subtle smile on Madam Envy's face, unnoticeable thanks to the mask that conceals her. At this moment Madam Envy noticed the young conductor watching the first three passengers before her intently, while his eyes would dart over to the guards on horseback. Could they be suspicious by the mere exchange, she wondered. Where they expecting a dispute? Regardless, Madam Envy ignored them, and possibly the prospect of trouble that could come their way. The man with a beaked mask had finally voiced his decision, in a way that is almost comical to her "Well, so much for that." Her tone was idle, yet playful " Now we may never know where that intriguing exchange could've lead."

After a moment, Madam Envy noticed the cold becoming unbearable , and breathing had became quite difficult. She held tightly on the bars of her seat, as she carefully levelled her breathing, subtly as she can to not alarm those who might see her minor agony. She'd try her best to keep it up, at least until they reach the Manor, away from this blasted cold.

Walnut once again found her appreciation of Owen's magnificent contraption ruined by the pettiness of those around her. All of the chatter of the fainter in the giant's lap was breaking her concentration and she pursed her lips slightly. If they were going to fool around and begin the process of courtship, could they not do it quietly? Or if they had to be so noisy about it, sending comments back and forth, could they not find another venue? Surely it could wait the ride to the manor.

On the bright side, her irritation with the weak one and her 'rescuer' provided a sufficient distraction from Master Plum and his damned bird. Neither were weighing on Walnut's mind. It was truly remarkable, the power of irritation to calm an individual down. As the fainter got up and tried to take a seat, Walnut smirked with satisfaction seeing that her ideal prize had been claimed by another. It served her right. The idle chatter at least seemed to stop for the moment, as the fainter took the seat behind her, only for Walnut to observe the shivering disposition of Kindle.

"If you insist on either hyperventilating, shivering, or making suggestions at the man in front, would you at least do so quietly?" Walnut requested in a sharp voice. She dearly hoped that the last one to come, whom the giant had mentioned they were still short two and one had arrived since then, would decide to sit with the fainter. Yet given her conversation previously, Walnut wondered if the fainter would enjoy that.