[IC] 🎀 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓻 . 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 . 𝓚𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 . 𝓜𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 . (a steampunk RP of petticoats, poison, and propriety)

[ayzrules]

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_{The Supreme Commander's (rather unimpressive) ballroom}

𝓣he most fashionable time of year is about to begin, and what better way to start it than at a masked ball hosted in the Supreme Commander's lavish home? Granted, Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne isn't well-known for his balls (he's more famous for, you know, keeping the city safe and other trivial matters like that), but it is sure to be great fun (if you are fond of drafty ballrooms and bland decor, that is). Captain Adrianna Kingsford will be there, too, tasked with a more secretive endeavor...rumor has it that she's been calling on some old classmates from Madame Geraldine's lately. But why?

𝓣hat, my friend, only time (and perhaps a bit of rudimentary inference-making, or maybe even reading the invitation, which provides a few details about the impeding investigation and respectfully requests the invitee to confirm their interst during the ball) will tell.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"𝓣o the esteemed lord, lady, mister, miss, doctor, et. cetera:

𝓨ou are cordially invited to Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne's estate for a masquerade ball being held in honor of his daughter's twentieth birthday, to be hosted on the twenty-fifth of March, in the year eighteen-hundred and ninety-two.

𝓨ou have been invited because you have accepted an offer to work with some of the city's most talented individuals. We humbly request that you confirm your acceptance by attending the ball. The library should be of particular interest.

𝓢incerely,
𝓢upreme Commander Phillip Osborne, Minister of the Legionnaire Guild"

𝓣he invitation comes in a creamy envelope with a plain red seal. The return address is listed as the Supreme Commander's residence.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

𝓐s expected, the masquerade ball hosted at the Supreme Commander's estate is...not spectacular, to put it mildly. His daughter, the honorable Corporal Olivia Osborne, is rather unpopular amongst her subordinates for various reasons. She stands to the side, dressed in an austere royal blue gown, receiving the guests' words of congratulations with a tight-lipped smile.

𝓑eing the Minister of the Legionnaire Guild, Supreme Commander Osborne must try, of course. But the fact remains that he is more suited to directing an invasion than planning a ball, and so the musical accompaniment is mediocre, the food a tad bland, and the decorations almost nonexistent. A single sad crystal chandelier hangs over the ballroom, and despite the good Commander's best efforts, even a common street urchin would have been able to tell that this was the first time that the ballroom had been used in ten years.

𝓘f one was to exit the sorry excuse of a ballroom, the unfortunate soul would find that the parlor, drawing room, and card room all seemed to be just as dull as the ballroom. The library, however, was a different story.

𝓑eautifully polished rosewood doors opened up into a well-lit, comfortably furnished room filled with mahogany bookcases and plenty of plush velvet chairs. The place is a veritable labyrinth; indeed, both the Supreme Commander and his daughter are avid readers, and as such, Supreme Commander Osborne has a library that rivals the official library of the Scholar Guild itself. Ornate gas lamps are placed at every table, and handcrafted rugs are spread out along the gleaming floors. The books themselves are in wonderful condition, the covers decorated with intricate metal designs-the work of master Craftsmen.

𝓒aptain Adrianna Kingsford was seated on an innocuous settee near the entrance of the library, a half-empty glass of sherry in her hands and a half-eaten cheese pie on the side table. She was reading a decorated book; an antique, from 1854, titled "Dark Magic for the Curious Soul". For those who knew her, it was quite a strange choice of literature (Adrianna is known to prefer purely factual scientific and historical volumes), but the title is well hidden from view. The only thing that would give away the nature of the book is its ornate cover, which is embellished with swirling strands of bronze and silver in a way that causes the book to appear more decorative than, well, actually useful.

(𝓖raduates of the Polytechnique Institute of Arts and Science may remember from their history classes that decorated books were all the rage during the Wasteland Wars. It was quite fashionable to own one of them, as they provided (inaccurate and romanticized) information about "dark magic", accompanied with flowing calligraphy and exquisite illustrations.)

𝓣he night promises to be long, dull, and hopelessly boring. Perhaps a perusal of Supreme Commander Osborne's extensive library is in order?

[ayzrules]

R O W E N A

---

---

Lady Rowena Henrietta Imperia-Airwright, the niece of the Lord Captain, Malcolm Imperia-Airwright, had never liked the Supreme Commander.

He was an irritating little brat, with a penchant for arresting people who, you know, broke the law. And when your family has made a fortune off of doing just that-well, it's quite frustrating, to say the least.

So she was more than surprised when Adrianna came to her for help.

Captain Adrianna Iphigenia Kingsford was Rowena's closest friend in finishing school. However, Adrianna was nothing if not a goody two-shoes, so it was understandable that Rowena and Adrianna fell out of contact after completing their education.

We're not all that different, though, Rowena mused to herself as she and her uncle walked up the long pathway to the entrance of the Supreme Commander's home.

Indeed, they were not. Though Adrianna applied the fine art of finishing others to honorable ("honorable" being a relative term) causes, while Rowena preferred to apply her education to, ah, less honorable causes, they were both, at the core, graduates of Madame Geraldine's Finishing School for Young Ladies of Quality.

And anyone who's anyone will tell you that Madame Geraldine's girls are dangerous, overtly or otherwise.

Perhaps that was why Adrianna came to Rowena. She knew that Rowena could be very useful, when it came to anything illegal.

So, would they be doing anything illegal during the impeding investigation? Most likely, if Adrianna decided to get Rowena involved. Though, Rowena thought, Adrianna will probably fight against doing anything illegal. Which is perfectly ridiculous. How does one expect to get something done without resorting to breaking the law?

Rowena remembered Adrianna's exact words-"I need your help, Rowena. Now, more than ever, I need your help."

Rowena's heart had softened at that. "Oh, very well, Adrianna," she'd replied breezily, making a vague gesture with one of her hands. "As long as the honorable Commander chooses not to grace us with his venerable presence, I see no reason to refuse."

The actual investigation itself would be tricky, though. Rowena didn't like dealing with what she didn't know, and she wasn't so much of a fool as to admit that she knew about Myalo. She knew what it was, yes, and what it could do...but how did one go about obtaining it? How did one go about storing it? How did one go about using it? These were questions for scientists, and Rowena was no scientist.

The inclusion of Institute graduates made Rowena nervous. Mad scientists were annoyingly unpredictable (as befitting the job description, of course, but still), and they were secretive and eccentric and sometimes completely immune to her charms, seeing as they were always focused on some crazy project or the other.

Rowena sighed to herself. She and her uncle had reached the main entrance, and she let herself be ushered towards the Supreme Commander. Lord Malcolm Imperia-Airwright, the Minister of the Merchant Guild, and Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne, the Minister of the Legionnaire Guild, were on rather...rocky terms, to say the least. But appearances must be maintained, and so the two shook hands and exchanged all the required pleasantries, even though both of their eyes remained wary and alert. Rowena herself curtsied exactly the way that she'd been taught to at Madame Geraldine's (while resisting the urge to launch her favorite dagger at the Supreme Commander), and she smiled sweetly at his daughter, the honorable Corporal Olivia Osborne.

Rowena watched as Olivia gave her a stiff smile in response. She could practically see the woman struggling not to let out some snappy, undoubtedly self-righteously indignant complaint about the mere existence of the Imperia-Airwrights.

Rowena made her usual rounds, dancing with the people she was expected to dance with, conversing with the people she was expected to converse with, smiling when she was supposed to smile, laughing when she was supposed to laugh. She spoke briefly to the Head Scholar ("Lady Zhang-Langridge, you look as lovely as always. I trust that you are doing well?"), the Surgeon General's cousin ("Oh, I am simply delighted to see you here!"), and Dr. Roderick Oswald, an instructor at the Polytechnique Institute of Arts and Sciences ("Calm down, Dr. Oswald, do. I can assure you that I've not ingested anything poisonous since the last time we encountered each other,") before seeking out the library.

The library was supposed to be where the young ladies and respectable gentlemen who'd accepted Adrianna's offer were supposed to convene, apparently. And as Adrianna's "second-in-command" (anyone who knew Rowena knew that she would always be wielding an equal amount of power, no matter what the situation. But sometimes, alternative facts had to be given in order to placate certain irritating commanders, whose first names were Phillip and last names were Osborne), Rowena would be watching, waiting, and observing...and flirting (in the case that any of the individuals proved to be of the male persuasion and unexpectedly adverse to revealing a couple of secrets), if she had to.

After all, hadn't Lady Kat (an instructor of music and creative arts, intelligence gathering, principles of deceit, fundamental espionage, and rudimentary seduction at Madame Geraldine's Finishing School for Young Ladies of Quality) repeatedly told her that "if you must flirt, flirt with danger"? And mad scientists and evil geniuses could be very dangerous indeed. They could positively kill somebody with some of the atrocious things that they wore in place of proper clothing!

The library was absolutely exquisite, even to a person who was not particularly interested in spending their life reading about obscure academic subjects (such as Rowena). The honorable Captain Kingsford was already there, a decorated book with an intricately designed cover in her hands. Rowena arched an eyebrow-she seemed to be genuinely engrossed in whatever the book was about.

Rowena went to find a seat at the other end of the library, as previously agreed upon, but when Adrianna heard Rowena enter, she stood up and walked over to her.

"Lady Imp-Rowena. I...er...well...thank you for agreeing to this."

Rowena mentally rolled her eyes. Adrianna was not very good at making small talk. "Perhaps you should lower your voice," she said pleasantly. "So as not to disturb the other guests who may be in the library as well."

Adrianna gave her a puzzled look, then realized what exactly Rowena was trying to say. "Oh. Don't worry; we're alone."

Rowena was still not assured. "Are we, indeed? Perhaps we should peruse the history section, then. I am told that it is rather hard to find. I do so hope that nobody is there right now."

Adrianna sighed. "I've checked countless times already, Rowena, all throughout the library. We went to the same school, you know. Really-we are quite alone. You don't have to talk in circles, though I do appreciate your...wariness."

Rowena shrugged, lowering her voice nevertheless. "Precautions, my dear captain. Precautions." She paused. "I've seen some of the other associated ladies and gentlemen already. Dr. Oswald from the Institute is here; I was not aware that he would be in attendance. Perhaps Lord Henderson-Kipps sent him? Anyway. I do believe that the rest of the people shall soon be amongst us. We are following the original plan, yes?"

"That is correct." Adrianna sighed again, and Rowena took the opportunity to assess her gown.

"Really, Adrianna," Rowena admonished in a lightly teasing voice. "What would Lady Kat say about-about that-" and here Rowena waved a hand in the general direction of Adrianna's ensemble-"at a ball? What color is that called? Tree-bark brown?" Rowena herself wore an evening gown of red silk brocaded with black rose, rubies glittering at her throat and around the slits in her mask. Her gloves were made of black satin, with tiny pearl buttons running down one side.

Rowena was more than certain that Adrianna was armed (the one thing the captain had gotten out of finishing school, it seemed like; always have a weapon of some sort on you. As well as a handkerchief), and Rowena was too. She had lemon juice in a perfume bottle and and a bladed fan; the fan's leaves were a fine crimson fabric but its ribs and guards were metal, the tips razor sharp. She also had a pretty little pistol with gilt metalwork and a mother-of-pearl handle in her reticule, and handkerchiefs and red doilies.

Rowena watched as Adrianna relaxed slightly, reassured by her playful humor. "Well, it is the Supreme Commander's ball, after all, to celebrate his daughter's birthday, no less. You've met Olivia, right? I thought that I should dress to the drabness of the occasion. Have I succeeded?"

Rowena laughed-a bright, twinkling laugh, like the glint of chandelier light skipping across delicate flutes of champagne-her eyes dancing with mirth. "You've more than succeeded, my dear."

And for a moment, it was like Rowena was back at finishing school again, when Adrianna was her best friend-nothing more, nothing less.

But all too soon, reality came back to both of them; they were grown women now, and they should have been at each other's throats, but they weren't because they had to save their city from black magic and the Minefield Triarchy and who knew what else, and the moment was broken and Adrianna cleared her throat and Rowena nodded and sailed across the room to take a seat in the corner, a random book about munitions spread across her lap (munitions, of all things-such an unladylike subject, especially for somebody like Rowena!) and they both ignored each other for the sake of the investigation and for the sake of their own consciences-because Adrianna didn't know if she could trust Rowena and Rowena didn't know if she could trust Adrianna and they weren't in finishing school anymore and things were just very, very complicated.

Rowena sighed. It was going to be a long, long night.

[MorningStar1399]

VISUALS

the old Polyvore set

a better look at his cape

matching jacket

A L E X A N D E R

---

---

"To the esteemed Mister Alexander Damien Amidale:

You are cordially invited to Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne's estate for a masquerade ball being held in honor of his daughter's twentieth birthday, to be hosted on the twenty-fifth of March, in the year eighteen-hundred and ninety-two.

You have been invited because you have accepted an offer to work with some of the city's most talented individuals. We humbly request that you confirm your acceptance by attending the ball. The library should be of particular interest.

Sincerely,
Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne
Minister of the Legionnaire Guild"

---

What a dreary affair this was turning out to be.

"Elric, please have someone take a peek into Commander Osborne's place, or wherever this event is to be held, and have them inform me of how...well...how do I put this..."

"The masquerade will take place at his home, which means it will be very drab, sir," Elric informed Alexander as he poured the man's tea.

The craftsman looked at his chief of staff with a raised eyebrow. "And you'd know this...? Ah, yes, right. Legionnaire. Military. Never mind." He sighed a bit dramatically, tossing the paper and envelope into the fireplace behind him once he wrote the address in his datebook. "Not the...first choice of location I would make, but something tells me if this event is to be as...dismal as you seem to know it will be, they will be making the other guests' homes be the better options for the evening." He sighed again, picking up his tea once the spoon was finished stirring in the cream and sugar. "Thank you, Elric. It looks like I'll be saving my better costume for my own event later this year." He sipped his tea and dismissed his good friend.

The night of the masquerade, Alexander made sure his black suit, cream cravat with a gold, pearl, and garnet cravat pin, cream dress shirt, heeled black dress shoes (to make him just that much taller), and black cape with gold embroidery were as clean and stately as they could be. He polished his choice of pocket watch, the case matching both the head of his cane sword and the gold detailing on his cape as well as his cravat pin, and brushed off his top hat before bidding Elric a good evening. He went on his way via carriage as usual, preferring it to most other automated transport that had a tendency to break down or leave the safety of the ground. He placed his dark gold half-mask on as the carriage approached the Supreme Commander's estate, and upon entering he had to stifle a yawn. The place felt disused, abandoned, choking him with its dust. He used his handkerchief to discretely clear his lungs, passing through the ballroom to take in every detail. He pitied the musicians, he really did. Their instruments were cheap, and even he could play in better tune on such a terrible purchase. Still, he made his way into the parlor, and after nodding his head at a few individuals and taking in all he could, he set his gift for the host's daughter - a beautiful clockwork jewelry box that played music as the gears shifted to open it and reveal a mirror - he entered the library.

Now this was much more like it.

True, it was a shame that the best of a party would be saved for an exclusive set of individuals, but all the same Alexander was pleased that at least Osborne had a collection he took care of. He bid Captain Kingsford hello - 'and please, next time an event like this comes up, tell someone to contact me for help in decorations and musicians so the other guests can actually enjoy themselves' - before making his way around the room. A glint caught his eye, and he chuckled before making his way over to it. He sat in a chair nearby, sipping his sherry.

"I had no idea you were coming, dearie," Alexander said to Rowena. "I'm afraid we've overdressed for the occasion. I couldn't even oblige myself a single dance, the musicians made me far too sad. I almost wish I'd brought an instrument or two to replace with theirs or to play with them to make things sound...well, appealing."

He sighed, taking another sip of his sherry before resuming his talking and eating. "At least the alcohol is good and this pie is decent enough to keep eating. I'll have to throw another one of these, perhaps for some obscure yet not too obscure holiday or another, like St. Nicholas' feast day or just an ordinary yule ball or perhaps even a fall event…something. Or perhaps I should think of something sooner. It might be a bit late for an equinox gala, though I would love to see all the florals and light colors..."

Alexander sighed again. "Well, I'll let you get back to your…intriguing reading material” - at this he made a face after glancing at the book itself (so un-Rowena) - “and attempt to enjoy myself. Do find me if you get bored. Perhaps we can inspire the musicians to play a happier tune.” With that, he stood, gave her a wink and a small smirk, before perusing the shelves and taking a book over to another chair. His choice of seating was both hidden and within view, just as he was, and as he set his sherry down on the nearby table, he opened the book and began to read, his blue eyes often leaving the gold-leafed pages to scan the crowd, wondering if he would have even a little bit of fun tonight.

[Stern Algorithm]

A R S E N I O

---

---

"To the esteemed Mister Hermes Lennard-Jones:

You are cordially invited to Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne's estate for a masquerade ball being held in honor of his daughter's twentieth birthday, to be hosted on the twenty-fifth of March, in the year eighteen-hundred and ninety-two.

You have been invited because your 'son' is being 'requested' to serve on 'official business' on 'behalf' of the city with some of the city's most talented individuals. We humbly request that you confirm your 'son's' 'commitment' by attending the ball. The library should be of particular interest.

Sincerely,
Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne
Minister of the Legionnaire Guild"

---

Arsenio read the letter, noticing the thinly veiled draft notice poorly hidden behind obvious apostrophes. Was it even proper grammar to use three apostrophes like that in the word 'son's'? Arsenio looked up at his father, who seemed a nervous wreck, covering his eyes with his hands as if he were suffering from a migraine.

"This was the deal," Arsenio said flatly.

"I know," Hermes replied shakily, though knowledge of the matter did not make it any easier to swallow.

"I was trained by the best," Arsenio continued, trying to ease his father's fears.

"I know."

"I love you, Father."

"...I know..."

---

Hermes and Arsenio walked through the lackluster event. As a craftsman without nobility, fallen from grace, the different in status between Hermes and the other party-attendees was palatable, as pleasantries were exchanged in a more one-sided fashion. Hermes essentailly rushed Arsenio through the hall to get this over with, greeting the Supreme Commander and his daughter at the end of it. There was no showing emotion here as they had already said there goodbyes before coming. "Arsenio, why don't you go run along now, the Supreme Commander and I have important matters to discuss," Hermes said.

"Yes, Father," Arsenio replied, giving a small bow and heading off. Arsenio headed straight to the library, avoiding other children (though there weren't many) so as not to get dragged into some banal playtime. When he reached the doors, he slowed down and wandered in, as if her were just exploring the house, feigning amusement and wonder at the well-kept library. Though he was, in truth, rather impressed by the collection, a certain degree of his amazement was forced to seem more child-like. Before revealing himself completely to these people, who were almost undoubtedly his future comrades, he wanted to first see how much of their true natures he could get them to divulge. Taking a few staggered steps over to a bookshelf, he looked up at a book that had a tittle that seemed appropriate to what a child of his appearance might be interested in reading, one that was just too far out of his reach. Looking over at the tall man with long golden hair, Arsenio pleaded, "Please, kind sir, this book has caught my eye, and I would so love to peruse it, but I unfortunately cannot reach it. If it pleases you, would you mind helping me to attain it?" While step-stools and sliding ladders abounded, Arsenio wanted to see how these people reacted to a child in need. Would they tell him to just get the book himself? Would they just get it for him? Or would they playfully lift him up to grab the book himself (a difficult affair, considering Arsenio's deceptive weight)? Or would they see right through his act?

[bloonewb]

Elodie glanced down at the paper in her hand, clutched so tightly it threatens to tear. If she didn't check it every five minutes or so, who knows where it could disappear off to? Yes, this was the place. Smack in the middle of the cramped city, tucked away in one of the constricted quarters, right around one of the labyrinthine streets. This had better be the place . . .

No, she'd taken one wrong turn to many. Of course she did. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Every turn was the wrong turn in this hellish place. Which street was which? Where do they lead? The moment Elodie turns her back, they rearrange themselves and change directions, and then the buildings themselves inch closer together, until what's left of the space between is so constricting that her lungs simply can't absorb enough air. She was going to die here, in front of this one gated mansion among an entire street complex of gated mansions, somewhere nobody at home could find her again. What was the name of the district? Peri . . . something. Periford? Periport? More or less. Well, the first four homes she went to either had no idea what she was talking about or simply slammed the door in her face. Eventually, she'll find it. Steeling herself, she approached the door.

Yes, she was right not to second-guess herself at the last second. The doorman was eager enough to let her in, once she had proven beyond reasonable doubt that she possessed both an invitation and a mask. Quickly, she slipped it on and entered.

The library. Where was the library? Lady Rowena had said to meet her there. Her, and her friend Kingsford. She found the door quickly enough, and entered quiet as she could. There they were, chatting casual as you please. Elodie would recognize the woman anywhere, even with the mask. But how was she supposed to approach such esteemed people? The direct way, perhaps, would not be the best. The last thing she would want is to give something away that should not have been.

"My Lady, a pleasure to see you here," Elodie said, walking up to the chatting pair and dropping to a low curtsy. Just as the school has drilled into her since she was fourteen. One foot back, knees bent, enclose hand into fist optional. "I do hope you are enjoying yourself as I am. I believe you had wished to continue last week's . . . conversation here?"

[Mr Rage]

Elizabeth was hard at work setting up an experiment for their newest steam vessel when thin tinkling of the old brass bells on the front door summoned her attention to someone entering. Chester was near by, too, to observe the proceedings, "I'll get it, dear, you keep working, but don't start without me."

"Alright," she replied in a sing-song voice, as she continued to work the wrench in hand.

A moment later she was done setting the last pressure gage and was ready to get started on the test when Chester returned with a letter in hand. "It seem's we've been invited to a party," He said as he motioned with the letter in hand, "A messenger was at the door, seems like this is an invitation to confirm our previous conversation with the Captain."

"We'll have to make sure we attend then, wont we?" Elizabeth replied as she turned the knob on the gas boiler, turning it up to start producing steam.

"Only if you really want to. This... summons... will delay our own project," He replied, stating the obvious.

"Perhaps, but we have been asked to assist in a sensitive matter by the heads of state, as such we should probably make an effort to be there, who knows, there may be a time when we need a favor in return, no?"

The water was boiling now and the steam was working its way through the pipes, the periodic gages jumping as the pressure hit them. Once the pressure reached a certain level Chester reached over a flipped a switch on a smaller mechanism that began pumping bellows, compressing the air down to higher pressures before put it into the experimental steam vessel. With each stroke of the pistons a small puff of steam was released. The gages were starting to whistle from the pressure they were experiencing.

"Time to step behind the curtain, shall we?" Chester said, gesturing for Elizabeth to lead the way. There was a heavy steel sheet wall, with Brick behind it to support it, with a thick pane of glass for a window, that was reinforced with a thin lattice of wire to reinforce the glass.

The gages all screamed in discord now, none of them agreeing on a pitch or a tone. Through the window they could see that the new vessel was starting the shutter and dance around on the pipe. The gage there, the final gage, was a bit special in that whatever the highest pressure experienced was, it would stay in that spot until reset. They watched as it climbed, slowly, past their previous records. Once it peaked Elizabeth pulled on a chain the flipped a valve closed on the tank, stopping any more pressure from entering it while Chester reached over to turn off the pressurizing pistons. The whistles came to a slow stop as the pressure was let off. Elizabeth turned the knobs to shut off the gas from behind the protective wall. They waited for a few minutes there, watching for the signs of a rupture or a leak.

It seems as though they made progress....

The day of the event the couple dressed to match, she in her red silk with black brocade corset on a mask to match, too, her large heavy black skirt in bussels behind her. He in his black suit, black vest, black hat, and red silk shirt. He wore a cape with matching brocade to his wife's corset and a mask that matched as well. They produced their invitations at the door as they made their way inside. They went through the pleasantries and niceties required for such events, greeting the host and well-wishing the birthday girl. They even took the opportunity to dance, too. They hadn't danced in what felt like ages. Elizabeth smiles brightly as Chester counted through the steps. He was a certified genius, he could calculate his way through anything, but he struggled to relax and just.. dance. The song ended, they bowed to one another, turned with the rest of the dancing crowd and gave a polite clap to the band and then swiftly made their way off of the dance floor before the next song began.

"Shall we join the others in the library?" Chester said, gesturing toward the library hall. Elizabeth nodded and took Chester's offered hand, her silk gloved hand seemed especially delicate this night. Once in side they found a nice chase to sit on and awaited what was to come next.

[Briza]

L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

A long night it would most certainly be. As the Perfumsist believed, interesting things were hardly interesting if they were not at least in some sort long-lasting. He believed this in more than one way, without skirting any of the vulgarity that generally was brushed under the finely woven Kashmir rugs and their high kpsi count. The vulgarity in particular, of which he generally imagined, would be a long drawn out murder due to the classical soliloquy of a scent he created by his very own finger tips when playing Mother Nature's finest and darkest attribute like oh, let us say, a violin, perhaps. It were the hearts that he enjoyed making lethal, not the heads. The tops were usually much too shrewd and loud and often tried to cover the beautiful intricacies of the fundamental aromas being played through his perfumes, and Finnegan had no use for such egos for they were noticed far too quickly, like the smell of a whore's bloomers in a bakery. He had the better preference of plucking heart strings, for such a case.

While slipping on his other white glove, Finnegan closed his eyes and fitted his hand comfortably. The soft fabric glided over his skin, and he opened his eyes, turning to the woman on his left, “Shall we?” His mouth made a small, polite twitch of a smug smile, approving the elegantly dressed lady next to him. She was draped in some fine lush, silk, and her collarbones were accentuated in dainty style. He had decorated them with a string of pearls and an opal, elaborated with golden floral. The necklace was his gift to her, and as he suggested, she made sure to have her light auburn hair curled and pinned above her neck to make a decent show of her present from him. The curvature of her neck was quite daunting, as well.

“Ah, of course, Monsieur,” Evelyn's rose lips turned upwards as her eyes curved into a decently excited manner. If she showed herself anymore gaily, Finnegan would have chastised her. There was something that caused a robust disinterest in women who acted in the mannerisms of those who were too young. It was a strange rebellion he would rather snuff as he had not the patience to make play with such a thing. She watched as his arm lifted, and with proper grace, her own wrist was pulled upwards by invisible puppetry and placed gently on the sleeve of his off-white suite.

Finnegan was looking down at her, judging her poise and beauty with a falsely penitent adoration, and with such an audience, his lady could not help but smile and blush at him by batting her eyes and bashfully turning her prim cheek away from him, “Very well then,” he took in a small breath of jesting relaxation. The scent of her perfume smelled nicely. He believed it would flow well after having enjoyed a carriage ride and proceeding to masquerade over her natural scent during the party. The light touches of the chemistry that had been added to the white, beaded decor tucking into her curls, would also make a for a smooth and modest appreciation along the dance floor. He took a pass forward guiding her towards the entrance, “Let us not keep the our chariot waiting.” He paused his speaking for a moment and gave her a small, handsome smile as he admired her like a portrait in front of the foyer's flamboyant, baroque appeal, “Even if I would like to.”

A servant opened the large oak door of the manor. The lever of the brass handle turned, and the door was pushed open, “Sir, Ma'am,” the servant motioned forward in stewardship as he watched the two take their leave. Evelyn gave the man a quaint nod before letting her thoughts twirl about her into the carriage waiting for them. She felt like a grand duchess or more with the way he was treating her, and she was not sure if she could feel anymore honor by being taken to the Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne's estate. There were stories of the beautiful and very popular place. In fact, as a little girl, along with her sisters, they played pretend on more than one occasion daydreaming to be invited inside it. The distant view of the garden alone was worth admiring with longing sighs. However, she had heard almost nothing of the Supreme Commander's estate other than what had been imagined.

Finnegan thought of Evelyn as to be naive and lacking discernment. He was already making gambles with himself over how long it would take before he was yawning from the very memory of her. She was sweet, though, which is why he dressed her in a slightly more romantic and soothing perfume to calm not just her nerves but the nerves of the people around her. It was only humanly for him to think of those his clients encountered, as well. Word of Mouth has been a traditionally sought after marketing prospect, or at least, rumors have lead many to believe it is, but Finnegan believed in Word of Nose, as well. What is a perfume is you cannot smell it? Poison, probably, but the Perfumist only marketed such delicate potions where rumors did not touch.

— — —

The carriage ride was full of petty talk and quaint subjects. Finnegan pointed out small intricacies in the scenery to give Evelyn more life and comfort in a social situation, as he found it amusing that she had an admiration for the finer details, but the carnal delight that provoked in the woman when she found the man to have entertain in the same small ornaments, was too childish and easy for him. However, he was certain that she would make the night quite interesting regardless of what occurred, and for such a reason, he would not dismiss himself from patiently minding her personality and silly wit. She was after all, within his current courtship and treating her anything less than what he would his future Madame, would be quite boring to his masculinity in one way or another.

And, to make the evening even longer, the arrival to the Super Commander's estate was not truly anything spectacular until the two were directed by a properly dressed suitor of the household. His directions were simple and plain like the escapades lacking for an excellent expose. “The Library is right this way, Sir,” he gracefully motioned the couple down the corridor of the gentry. Evelyn was feeling a bit disappointed by the sight. Although, her genuine ignorance was still fluttering with hope as she followed the Lord's lead. The man had said nothing of distaste towards the staleness, yet she could tell there was something bothering him. The young woman found herself trapped between saying something incorrect and not saying anything at all. She opted to say nothing and held closely to him with one hand, and with the other, she felt the softness of her dress by carefully lifting it for a more appropriate stride alongside Finnegan while she studied the grandeur of the manor.

Upon seeing the entrance to the Library, she held more tightly to him, “Those doors... are oh so lovely, Finnegan,” her voice was spoken in a whisper and sounded as if she had meant to be more stern about the compliment, but in doing so, she lost her breath from the beauty in front of her. She took in several breaths and then, while holding her breath from finding nothing much more to say, her hazel eyes looked up to Finnegan, “And the bookshelves...” He did not seem so impressed by the doors as she did, but a judgement of respect was to be noted. Evelyn wished for him to implore with her in astonishment as he had done so well in the ride to the ball and begged to think it was the mask that was causing a disconnect.

She was most certainly correct. The rosewood doors were quite a lovely choice. There was no denying the once-was ornate architectural work put into the furnishings and decoration of the estate itself, even if the event planning and age was generally quite dull in all senses of fashion, smell included, “They are very lovely, Evelyn,” he spoke gently, attempting not to sound in anyway chastising. He paused their walk, to push a faint, invisible curl from her cheeks, causing her to shy in a blush, “But, so are you, Evelyn.” He was not willing to be anxious about losing her as she turned into a wallflower by allowing the doors of a labyrinth to be more of a masterpiece than herself. Evelyn seemed all the more interested in him, now, and he gave her a frisk of a smile as he suited his own demeanor to waltz into the library.

Finnegan was actually more than excited to enter the Supreme Commander's library, as a man who was part of the Scholar Guild. Although his patience had waned some time in the carriage and even further through their elongated welcome, his first impression of the Library was nothing remotely close to the disappointment of the estate's inability to understand the proper etiquette in throwing a masquerade ball. Yes, the night was growing in length, but so had his curiosity. He was all the more delighted, having regained the necessary composure for his company. Sometimes, an endlessly bland prologue was necessary for a good opening, which smelled of old books and candles and conversations that were veiled in whispers and heavy symbolism.

These notes were heavily appreciated, and the scenery was too brilliant to deny Evelyn's initial, intuitive reaction. But still, he pulled Evelyn close to him, motioning his hand close to her lower waist as he whispered in her ear, “You truly are beautiful, Evelyn,” he took in the tiniest whiff of her perfume and drew his face to look and lock eyes with her, “I believe our good man, Alexander, is somewhere in this gorgeous library,” his eyes left his lady's before she could respond properly by taking her tempo and looking around various bookshelves with a more innocent gaze, “But first, our dear beautiful Captain Adrianna Kingsford,” he motioned and nodded reverently towards the Captain who was seated studiously near the entrance.

[shylarah]

Lady Alyssana Grey

The invitation had been unexpected. Alyssana did not really know the Supreme Commander or his daughter, nor were her adoptive parents close to them. Library or no, she was not particularly fond of balls, and given the host it was bound to be supremely dull. She would have written a polite refusal, had it not been for an intriguing postscript that said little but told her volumes.

"Captain Kingsford sends her regards."

Adrianna was a friend from school, someone she understood and trusted. The brief note was a personal request, and that decided her. Alyssana would attend. At the least, she would have a chance to peruse what was, by all accounts, a truly magnificent collection of books. Far more likely, she would find out what it was that had Adrianna concerned enough to be assembling a team.

---

Alyssana alighted from the cab and paid the driver, twitching her skirts into place and checking her mask before turning to make her way to the door. Her mask was an intricate affair of delicate hammered metal and molded wire that evoked the fierce visage of a falcon. Even with it covering the upper half of her face, there was really no mistaking who she was. The loose skirt of her brown and faded blue outfit was the largest of the concessions she'd made for the formality of the affair. Her collar ended in a subdued frill at her neck, and the sleeves did likewise at her wrists, covering the entirety of her top. She'd forgone her usual tailored waistcoat, another small concession, but Alyssana was not fond of the revealing necklines and bare arms that were the prevailing trend in ball gowns, nor did she have the patience for the ballooning skirts that accompanied them. She wore sensible shoes instead of dancing slippers, complete with the springloaded blade in the toe of one. Her hair was swept up and carefully coiffed, secured with pearl hairpins and a fancy clip that hid another narrow blade. Her earrings were simple pearl studs, and instead of a string of pearls she wore her favorite pendant, a single irridescently blue pearl with bronzed overtones on a fine chain.

Most distinctive, however, were the elaborate wings that curved at her shoulders, marvels of miniscule gears hidden among the carefully crafted metal "feathers". They could fold down considerably smaller, the long primaries and secondaries sliding up under the coverts and all of them laying tightly together against her back. For this day, she had them expanded as if in preparation for flight, folded neatly at rest so she resembled a bird woman. Her mask was clearly designed to compliment them, the same colors and craftsmanship -- and the same maker.

The brilliant mind behind her wings had declined to attend; Christopher was quickly bored by most social functions and preferred to immerse himself in his work. He'd been more interesting in his current project than a party, and Alyssana had not cared to persuade him to come. If there was anything of particular interest to him that she learned in the course of the evening, it would be a simple matter to fill him in afterwards.

She entered alone and without escort, and greeted her hosts politely but not at great length. The atmostphere was even more dismal than anticipated, and it was with considerable relief that she withdrew to the library. Adrianna was just inside the door, reading a book Alyssana knew on sight to be from one of the Wasteland Cities before their fall. The woman in the corner could only be Lady Rowena, and she knew Arsenio, currently seeking help from a tall man she didn't recognize behind his mask. An intriguing choice if he had been invited, and it hinted at serious need. There were a couple others as well, but Adrianna and the library itself had the majority of Alyssana's attention. It was a stunning collection, even for someone who lived and breathed academia. A pity she couldn't explore it now, but there were other considerations at hand.

First among those was Adrianna and -- was that Finnegan, escorting the latest in his never-ending string of women? It was! A slight smile tugged at her mouth, and her eyes brightened behind her mask. If Finny was here it would definitely be an interesting evening, to say the least. And perhaps he could ease the tension that had always sparked when Alyssana and Rowena had to spend any length of time together. It had been years since they'd last seen each other, but Alys doubted things had changed a great deal.

"Greetings, Captain," Alyssana said quietly. "It's good to see you. And you as well, sir," she added, addressing Finnegan. She clasped her hands before her in anticipation of him trying to take one to kiss. He often did, despite her best efforts to avoid it, and she tolerated it because he was a dear friend and she suspected he couldn't completely help his mannerisms. It was almost a game, one they'd played for years. "Chris says he's flattered but he really has no interest in creating a clockwork atomizer to the specifications you wanted. He suggested you try candles." She shrugged, the motion rippling gently through her wings. "But he does send his regards, though I didn't expect to be delivering them this evening."

[MorningStar1399]

A L E X A N D E R

---

---

To say he was surprised to have a child approach him would be an understatement, but upon being spoken to Alexander raised his head. The boy seemed young, perhaps not yet at double-digits in age. However, the way he carried himself and the way he spoke made the blond think he was closer to the age of a first-year student at the Institute than a true child.

Thus, he narrowed his eyes more in confusion than in skepticism. Something felt off about this boy. There was a heavy sensation of metal about him, as if he were not even real, or perhaps as if most of him were reinforced with metalworkings. This confused him far more, but he did not let it cross his face. Instead he glanced at the title of the book being requested, then back at the boy. Surely he wasn’t genuinely interested in fairy tales; this was likely some kind of test. Thus Alexander smiled pleasantly at him.

“Perhaps something of a different nature would be more interesting to you?” he asked politely as he stood. He turned to study the titles of the books nearest them. “Someone with a vocabulary such as yours must be interested in a more advanced reading. Have you intentions of joining the Scholar Guild when you come of age? Or have you another gift?”

He gestured to another title. It was another pleasure read instead of an informative piece like the one he was reading (after all, the one he was looking at was turning out to be incredibly boring), but it was much more advanced than the original suggestion, and yet still contained fantastical elements. It had been a favorite of Alexander’s when he was first in the Institute. “How about this one instead?” he inquired. “It was one of my favorites when I was younger, and I still hold a piece of it dearly in my heart.”

His attention was diverted briefly when he recognized a voice. He turned to see Finnegan Oaks enter the library, and Alexander could not help but smile. Oh good, so there was another friend involved in this…whatever this was. He returned his attention to the child, knowing Finnegan had a few rounds of his own to do (Alexander did not understand how such a man could be friends with Lady Alyssana Grey, whom Alexander could only regard with tolerance and distance; after all, she was quite a joy-killer it seemed). “Will this be a better fit for you, or would you prefer the ah, shall I say, younger reading? For appearance’s sake.”

After all, if this child was in the library, there was a chance he was here for the same reason as Alexander himself, and therefore Finnegan and Rowena and Alyssana and whoever else was here. And if he was, then perhaps he would want to be as unassuming as possible, and Alexander would not wish to betray such a desire.

He set his own book aside and retrieved the book, handing it to the boy as he said, “My name is Amidale. Alexander Damien Amidale. Should you need assistance again, with anything at all, for the remainder of this evening, I shall likely be with the blond, mustached gentleman for a bit, though I shall remain in this library should I leave his side, seeing as it is the…least…drab, out of the rest of the decorated estate.”

With that, he picked up his cane, adjusted his cape, and made his way to Finnegan, ever the smile on his lips.

[Briza]

L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

A little moment after Evelyn made her a fine curtsy for the Captain, a very fair woman with light brown hair came up to them. Her mask was most intriguing, and she seemed rather familiar with Finnegan in a way that made Evelyn's own less than gentry position feel strangely at ease yet intimidated nonetheless. The young woman thought back to what the lord had confirmed for her twice before engaging with the Captain, and her dolled face smiled charily to the short memories. If this woman was a friend of Finnegan then she ought to make the woman one of her own acquaintances, as well. Her hands slipped together, one folding on top of the other as they rested nicely in front of her lower waist. The movement reminded her of the necklace Finnegan had given her, and she thought it to be very beautiful. There was no room for jealousy in such an ornate and elaborately decorated library. Her smile turned to Lady Alyssana with a shy nod. There was something so lovely about her, but she could not quite understand it. Perhaps, it was the way in which she seemed so confident and simple in her ruffles... or maybe it was her mask and wings.

And, Finnegan, without missing a his usual beat, continued in his line of interests, “My Lady Alyssana Grey,” he spoke with a firm polished fashion by pulling her name longingly towards the last vowel and carefully took hold of Lady Alyssana's hand. He closed his eyes as he bent his waist and leaned to gently kiss the top of her soft glove; the tip of his nose pressed against her lightly. Evelyn was minding with a small blush as she watched him close his eyes. It was a strange pleasure she felt all the times she watched him close his eyes. His lashes drooped and curled nicely over his pale, high cheek bones, and she daydreamed about it so. However, her own attention quickly withdrew from admiring Finnegan and began studying the reaction of Lady Alyssana with a quaint concern. Nonetheless, in so doing, she became admirably distracted by the finer birdlike intricacies that decorated the mask upon the other woman's simple face. The metal work was truly lovely.

And, she thought to herself:
“Everything seems so lovely, today.”

The dazzle woman was unable to let the thoughts of loveliness leave her mind. They had somehow become trapped in her head, and as she drew herself memories of the pearls in Lady Alyssana's hair, she was reminded of her own pearls and looked to Finnegan. The same supple, chary smile that pepped quietly on her lips continued to glow in adoration for the Monsieur. She was unsure of whatever she had done to deserve such a man, and in a slight hint of hesitation, she raised her left hand whimsically through the air to brush the part of her cheek that he had touched just moments prior to the current engagement. This was love. She was sure of it. (And she was right. It was love, but it not longer is, anymore. She would soon be forgotten like the rest of them, yet she had yet to understand this.)

When lifting himself, Finnegan allowed his fingers to gently trail underneath the tenderness of Lady Alyssana's thinly covered palms, he let out a small flair of a breath from his nose,“Your earrings are quite very pretty tonight,” as he realigned himself, his head tilted slightly while he squinted his eyes. The gesture was almost comical in nature as it appeared he was mocking something to Evelyn, but he seemed to poised for her to be sure. Indeed, it was true. He was making light of Alyssana's unorthodox ways of ever letting him successfully flirt with her. Tonight, Finnegan had decided to try to use a little more self-restraint than he usually did when minding his manners around his good friend's twin sister. However, he was not above turning his facial expression in such a way that he made the parties involved in the conversation believe he was about to make another compliment about them but then re-direct the conversation to Evelyn, who was, now — if by a trance — following the very word lovely without any consideration for what lied behind its actual meaning.

“As is your perfume,” he said boyishly. However, Lady Alyssana did not comment as he complimented her nonexistent perfume, though her gaze cooled behind her mask as she reclaimed her hand. She knew he was well aware she rarely used it; it was as much a jibe about her continued refusal as a comment on her lightly scented soaps. Finnegan had really made the over-used, backhanded compliment as a dismissal to indicate his disinterest in acknowledging her metal work. He would create another conversation for such a subject at a later time. The night was sure to be long enough as to not rush every bit of major conversation from the company. He slowly motioned to Evelyn, hesitating slightly as he recollected on the parts of her to which he still found himself unsparingly attracted. The first was her perfume, which she was wearing unlike Lady Alyssana, “This wonderful woman before you is Lady Alyssana Grey.” She nodded politely to Evelyn when introduced, and a smile of serious attitude and consolation rested on Finnegan. He knew Lady Alyssana was well aware of his boyish charades with women, and he found it a deep pleasure to try and persuade her that every new woman he introduced to her truly had the key to his heart this time. It rarely ever worked, but he was unwilling to admit defeat, “She is the cherished sister of a one of my dearest friends,” he paused, feeling for which way he should take the conversation. “Alyssana,” he prepped his words with a need for respect of obedience of importance to which he was about to tell her. In his usual routine, depending on who was escorting him, he may have been more playful with her name. Tonight, he chose a different route, “This is Mademoiselle Evelyn. She is a school teacher's daughter and very well educated. I hope you two will find that you both have more in common than you think.”

Finnegan looked down at the dear, astutely interested in the lines of her outfit that did not dress her skin. He In those brief moments, he studied her blushed cheeks that looked to be yearning for direction, but all he could do was hand her off to Lady Alyssana, “If you do not mind,” the lord looked to both ladies, “I would like to ask a favor of you, Alyssana, dear,” Finnegan nodded his head towards her, expectantly and remembering the second thing he liked about Evelyn was the unbearable childish hope that only a virgin of soft upbringing could accidentally hand a murderer on a silver platter. Finnegan preferred his victims with more gold, which was why he bought her necklace. The metal had a much smoother chemistry with the human condition than silver ever has. He was not going to murder her, however. “I must find Alexander. I heard he was coming,” he smiled, “Please, if you may, my charming and whimsical Evelyn has not been very often to such a party before. If you could at least make her feel cherished and welcome, I will be in your debt,” his eyes looked to both women and softened,“I must find my good man Alexander. We have some business to discuss, and I would be disheartened if I were to bore you, Evelyn. As I have already stated, Lady Alyssana is the sister of a very dear friend. I am ever quite fond of both. She will take very good care of you,” he tried not to make his words sound so overbearing, but in his attempt, he heard himself sounding as if he was in some honestly scared to be depart from the girl. He made the decision not to worry as it would merely make his love for her seem all the more earnest in front of Lady Alyssana, “I am sure you two will make very fine company with each other,” he nodded curtly and assuredly at them.

His request was met with a slight tilt of Lady Assylana's head for a moment of consideration, and then assent. “I'm hardly the best choice to make one feel comfortable at a party, but since you asked it as a favor....” A thin smile crossed her face, a cool expression. Finnegan could recognize it as more deliberate than sincere, but there was a flicker of sharp amusement that followed it in her eyes . “Besides, I'm sure Mademoiselle Evelyn could do with a little time away from you.” She was not sure what he had done to the poor girl, nor completely certain that he had done anything, but something in Evelyn's gaze seemed off, as she turned her young face to look at the Monsieur for reassurance for a last time.

The man made no comment back aside from a willful smile that he was not mistaken. His body made an acknowledging exit to the two women, and he turned, with his chin lifted and his eyes scanning the crowd for the buffoon he just complimented so intimately. His hands tucked behind his back, retaining to themselves as he made his way through the library's patterns. He felt a weight had been lifted from his shoulders by leaving Evelyn with Alyssa. Depending on how the two made together would bring an interesting answer to one of the mysteries of this evening. He was delighted to find out, but he had much more serious things to inquire and learn. The evening was long and had much longer to go, and he was not actually in any rush to find Alexander... But, it appeared, only several passes away from the two ladies, he realized Alexander was right in front of him, now.

“Alexander Damien Amidale,” Finnegan began, “You are around me so much, I cannot even tell when you are sneaking up on me,” he motioned closer to Alexander, “There is a woman whom I would enjoy your pleasure of meeting. Her name is Evelyn, but first —,” the silk cuff fabric underneath his suit showed as he made this gesture with his arm for the two men to move forward and away from the women, “I have spent so much time with her in the past week, I need a refreshing reminder as to why I do not date men. Unfortunately, you've dressed much too dashingly handsome, again, and I am afraid my plan has backfired.” Finnegan drew in a deep breath, slightly annoyed with the situation and then briefly pondered whether to mention another subject on hand, such as why they were here in the first place or if he should stay in line with fashion and make a dramatic comment about Lady Alyssana's wings. He opted for neither, though, “For whatever reason I expected you to dress anything less than how you are, is most obviously beyond me. My deepest apologies, you beautiful man.”

[MorningStar1399]

A L E X A N D E R

---

---

Alexander smiled brightly at him, a twinkle in his eye as the other man admitted to his approach being surprising. “Then I’ve succeeded in my endeavor,” he teased, an effortless look on his face as he raised his brows. Of course, being around Finnegan made his pupils dilate and his heart rate increase, but he forced himself to ignore it. Easily done, after all.

Just like he ignored the pain of Finnegan’s reminder that he shared no similar feelings to him. The disappointment showed briefly, just barely, in his eyes, the edges drooping some, the light dimming. Even his smile seemed a bit more like crumbling plaster. However, the compliments paid to him made it brighten once more and he allowed himself to laugh lightly, his head tipping back. The long-haired man allowed himself to rest a hand on Finnegan’s upper arm, letting it slip around as he leaned against him, leading him to take a turn about the library.

“As ever, my dear Finnegan, you flatter me,” he replied. “Though I can only hope that maybe I can serve as a way for you to decide to at least try to consider dating men. As I am sure you are well aware, I am perfectly capable of being a man’s first foray into relationships with other men, and I am told I make a rather wonderful lady.”

He glanced over at Finnegan, then over at Alyssana to view the woman who had previously been on Finnegan’s arm. “She’s rather pretty, your…Evelyn.” Play nice, Alexander, and let him lead the flirting. “Though indeed why you expected me to be anything less than the best dressed is beyond my comprehension. I considered something far more…elaborate and…decorative, but after of course learning the location was to be so…” Alexander made a face. “Well, visibly and audibly unpleasant, I could only do my part to not look too outlandish or garish.” He gave Finnegan another bright smile. “Though I intend to host at least two of my own masquerades this year, and you simply must be in attendance, with or without whatever pretty young thing you have on your arm at that time.” Though I could only hope and wish in the greatest of follies it were me.

[ayzrules]

​Adrianna greeted everyone with the requisite niceties as they filtered into the library​. She remained, for the most part, relatively expressionless, her brown eyes alert and watchful (though the side of her lip lifted up into a small half-smile at Alexander's comments about the drabness of the entire affair).

Adrianna didn't even have to look in Rowena's direction as Elodie LaVerre entered to know that Rowena would take care of it. "A pleasure to see you as well, Lady LaVerre," Adrianna replied neutrally as Rowena responded as well (though in a much more enthusiastic manner), gently taking Elodie by the arm and leading her in the other direction.

Adrianna inclined her head slightly as Alyssana Grey strode into the room; the two of them had been rather close in school, though that was a long time ago. "It is good to see you as well, Professor Grey," Adrianna said sincerely.

Finally-Finnegan Oaks. Adrianna had witnessed all of Rowena and Finnegan's interactions at finishing school; it had been quite a trying experience, to say the least. Nevertheless, she gave him a polite greeting, nodding once towards the woman on his arm-Evelyn.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Charlotte Vernell, whom most people simply referred to as "Lottie", walked into the library, alone. She enthusiastically greeted the honorable Captain Kingsford before she spotted Alyssana, alone with a woman she didn't know. Lottie immediately sprang in their direction, beaming at them. "Professor Grey! I'm so glad to see you!" she practically squealed, smiling widely. She turned to the pretty blonde woman, her smile never faltering. "Oh, I'm so sorry, where are my manners? I'm Charlotte, but everyone calls me Lottie. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

[ayzrules]

R O W E N A

---

---

Rowena watched as the rest of the people Adrianna had contacted began to filter into the library. She greeted Alexander Amidale fondly as he entered, murmuring a quiet "well, of course" to him as he moved away. Next came Arsenio, who appeared to be, well, a child; Adrianna had been kind enough to inform Rowena of his true nature, although Rowena was not entirely sure about the idea.

Alas, the Supreme Commander had approved, and so Arsenio was here. Damn that man to hell, Rowena thought to herself, dryly.

Rowena stood up and meandered her way over to Adrianna, who gave her a questioning look.

"How's your cousin?" Rowena asked cheerfully.

Adrianna paused. "I-what? Rowena, what are you talking about?"

Rowena plowed on ahead, ignoring the incredulous look that Adrianna shot her way. "What's his name? John? Jackson? Jacob! Captain Chesterfield."

"Rowena, what does my cousin have anything to do with-"

Rowena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Adrianna had never been particularly perceptive to these sorts of things. Nobody would ever accuse Adrianna of being stupid. But she's very oblivious when it comes to...balls. And tea parties. And gatherings, of any kind.

Rowena shrugged nonchalantly. "You seemed bored," she answered, giving the book spread across Adrianna's lap-the book that she had not looked down at once for the last ten minutes-a pointed glance. "Honestly, my dear. Do you even try when it comes to keeping up...appearances?" This last sentence was said so quietly that only Adrianna, with her razor-sharp hearing, would have been able to make out the words.

Understanding flooded Adrianna's gaze. There we go, thought Rowena, satisfied, as the captain closed the book and set it back on the shelf. Really. You would expect that someone as finished as Adrianna would be better at acting. But no, she's so obvious that any random person would have been able to tell that she's waiting for people. Heavens above. I don't know how our teachers at Madame Geraldine's ever had the patience for this.

Adrianna cleared her throat. "Well, um, Jacob-that is, my cousin Captain Chesterfield-he is...well, I suppose."

Rowena heard the hesitancy in Adrianna's voice. She knew that what had transpired between them after the ball where Adrianna caught Rowena flirting with Jacob weighed heavily on her mind; you didn't need to be a mind-reader to know that.

"That is good to hear," Rowena replied, pleasantly. She pouted playfully. "You know, Captain Kingsford, I do very much wish you'd let me talk to him more at that ball. Your cousin is so very fascinating."

Adrianna did not deign to reply to Rowena's teasing, instead turning towards the door and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "oh, shove off" under her breath.

For what felt like the twentieth time that night, Rowena resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Adrianna was looking at the door. Rowena followed Adrianna's gaze towards the entrance, where Elodie LaVerre had just walked into the library. The younger woman approached the two of them, greeting them politely and curtsying. When she asked about a "conversation", Rowena suppressed an exasperated sigh.

Really. First Adrianna, now Lady LaVerre? I swear, it's a wonder how some of these people were declared properly finished. No subtlety at all, I tell you.

Nevertheless, Rowena let Adrianna return the greeting in the reserved way she had before smiling winsomely at the other woman. "Why, Lady LaVerre, I am simply delighted to see you here," she said pleasantly, knowing that Adrianna was relying on her to...take care of this. She gently took Elodie by the arm and began walking in the direction of her previous perch. "I do have so much to tell you, darling. There's simply so much that has happened. Come, let's find somewhere to sit."

Rowena discreetly examined Elodie's gown as they walked. It was a dark, royal blue silk, with buttons going down the front and subtly ruffled at the wrists. Like Rowena, Elodie's figure favored a narrower silhouette, and it appeared that she had taken advantage of that fact, although Rowena wasn't entirely convinced that this detail was intentional. Elodie didn't seem like the person to favor voluminous skirts or the cage crinoline. Or bustles.

Overall, it was a simple, elegant affair, although a tad too simple for Rowena's tastes. The cut was also a bit on the conservative side, and Rowena favored gowns with a more, ah, modern cut, one could say (and she was certainly not a conservative individual, when it came to fashion). The combination of the straight collar, bows, and high neckline were almost reminiscent of a gentleman's cravat, giving the ensemble a slightly more masculine look.

Of course, Rowena had to consider whether Elodie was armed or not. Elodie was not carrying a fan, nor was she carrying a reticule or wearing a chatelaine. so Rowena could immediately rule out a wide range of weapons. Of course, there was the fact that she could have something under her skirts, or up her sleeve.

I suppose it doesn't matter that much, anyway, Rowena thought to herself, wryly. She's probably the strongest of us here, if we do not count Adrianna. Though Adrianna has always told me that she is more fast than strong.

They reached a quiet corner of the library, by a couple of bookshelves. Rowena could still see the entrance, but she and Elodie could not be seen from the front doors. Still, Rowena would be careful. This was a rather sensitive topic, and, well. It would not do for anyone to overhear. In fact, Rowena would have liked to not even speak of the details of Elodie's involvement in Adrianna's investigation, but alas, the other woman did not seem to share her...sentiment.

Rowena gave her a warm smile. "Really, Lady LaVerre. I simply cannot express how wonderful it is to see you here," said Rowena, choosing her words with an exacting care. "How is your father? Well, I hope?"

Rowena paused, delicately. "You mustn't worry about the proceedings in Ravensford, my dear. The honorable captain and I have everything done. You know, all the paperwork and stuff." Rowena laughed lightly. "Lady Zhang-Langridge has always been a bit picky about her paperwork."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rowena could make out the other people walking into the library. She opened her mind, slightly-not enough to read anybody's thoughts, but enough to gauge the general mood of the room. There was curiosity, and a bit of apprehension, and expectancy.

Alright. So far, so good.

[shylarah]

Lady Alyssana Grey

Left with Evelyn, Alyssana quickly discovered the woman was not much of a conversationalist. How much of that was due to Finnegan's tampering and how much was Evelyn's nature was not clear, but if Finnegan had expected her to find diverting company in the woman he was sorely mistaken. A pity. At least she was saved the interminable tedium of a protracted conversation by Charlotte's arrival.

"Lottie? Why hello, what an unexpected pleasure." Alyssana favored the newcomer with a small smile of genuine happiness. "This is Miss Evelyn, a friend of a friend." Damn Finnegan for neglecting to give the woman's last name; he should have known better. "You seem to be doing well, Lottie. It's always good to see you in high spirits."

[bloonewb]

"My father is doing well, well indeed," Elodie said, stiffening. Floods of memories were coming back to her, endless courtesies and commands and forms of proper conduct. She had dealt with men before, countless numbers of them. They littered the ranks of the Merchants Guild in the cities, as well as those of many trade companies. Very rarely did she deal with ladies, even rarer ladies of a higher station than herself, and the thought of slipping up made her more nervous than it ought. "And your uncle? Good as well, I should hope?" It was a lie, and one Elodie didn't want to have to tell. Her father was a businessman, at least for now. Feudalism had gone out the window, and was replaced quickly with trade. The Merchants Guild had a way of imposing unfavorable regulations on independent corporations, and this did not bode well for her estate. Lying was one of the things she had learned well in Madame Geraldine's.

"I should hope we are in good company tonight, my lady," Elodie said, letting a tired eye drag across the room, alighting on each person in it before flitting away again. Who knows which one of them was an enemy subversive? "It would not do well to suffer any embarrassments in such a public event, would you not agree?" Were that group of ladies in the middle of the room watching her? Elodie could swear that they were making glances her way, as she was doing to them. The intrigues of the city, they made her head spin like mad. "Like I said last week, you have come to the right people for help. My family owns a lovely estate out in the farms along Hourglass City, with crops and flowers growing as far as the eye can see from it. I'm sure we could have that garden of yours blooming within a month. If you would be so kind as to give me its dimensions, soil quality, and the like?" she whispered, hopefully quiet enough so that the prying eyes would not hear.

[ayzrules]

Lottie was more than delighted to see Professor Grey. She gave the blonde woman-Evelyn-a cheerful smile. "Miss Evelyn! It is truly a pleasure to meet you. Oh, and I do love your gown." Lottie's gaze turned back to Alyssana. "Oh! And Professor Grey, your mask is lovely. Really. My goodness, where did you find it?" Lottie was positively radiating happiness as she took in the library and the other assembled persons.

[Stern Algorithm]

A R S E N I O

---

---

“Perhaps something of a different nature would be more interesting to you? Someone with a vocabulary such as yours must be interested in a more advanced reading. Have you intentions of joining the Scholar Guild when you come of age? Or have you another gift? How about this one instead? It was one of my favorites when I was younger, and I still hold a piece of it dearly in my heart. Will this be a better fit for you, or would you prefer the ah, shall I say, younger reading? For appearance’s sake. My name is Amidale. Alexander Damien Amidale. Should you need assistance again, with anything at all, for the remainder of this evening, I shall likely be with the blond, mustached gentleman for a bit, though I shall remain in this library should I leave his side, seeing as it is the…least…drab, out of the rest of the decorated estate.

@MorningStar1399

"I'm aiming to be a craftsman," Arsenio replied with a well-practiced child-like innocence, though he did come to the realization that he had difficulty masking his intelligence and that this Alexander had seen through it. This was likely due to the Institute's training for all evil geniuses to flout their intellect as much as possible, and since Arsenio had only crashed a few subterfuge courses at Madame Geraldine's, his skill at pretending to be humble and unassuming were in need of polishing. "I will try the book you suggested, sir. Father is often telling me how quickly I learn." Taking the book that Alexander offered rather than the one he had originally requested, Arsenio flipped it open just to take a quick glance at the first few pages and the literary style, earnestly interested in the book that the older man had proposed. Arsenio took this moment to rate Alexander. Alexander had seemed honest enough, and genuine in his desire to help. Arsenio could tell that Alexander knew that everything was not as it seemed with Arsenio, picking up on the child's intelligence fairly quickly. Alexander could have just shooed Arsenio away, but he didn't.

In the meantime, several more people entered, none of which Arsenio knew, save Professor Grey. Given what he knew about her area of expertise, Arsenio could only surmise that the objective of this mission hit uncomfortably close to home, given Arsenio's true nature. As Alexander went off with the man named Finnegan, leaving Professor Grey to deal with the vapid-looking Evelyn woman, Arsenio took this as an ideal opportunity t o'switch dance partners' and to engage with his professor. Normally, Arsenio would not reveal that he and Professor Grey knew each other, given the nature of this meeting, it only made sense to keep one's cards close to one's chest, but the prospect that this mission might have something to do with automatons made Arsenio uncomfortable, and he subconsciously sought the alleviate that discomfort with the help of his former teacher. Closing up the book and keeping it under his arm, Arsenio strolled right up to Alyssana, Evelyn, and Lottie. "Professor Grey!" Arsenio called out, "What a pleasant surprise to see you at this gathering." Turning to Evelyn and Charlotte, Arsenio added, "Miladies," before turning back to Alyssana. Though Arsenio smiled, there was some unease visible in his eyes.

[Briza]

L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

Thinking of himself as being too friendly with Alexander, Finnegan reminded himself that he had several reasons to make such a display of relations with the queer man. Some of them being his very own follies having to do with the woman he had almost carelessly brought to the masquerade. Asides these reasoning, Alexander needed more uplifting than the usual, and Finnegan was generally a fair person for such a display of action. Finnegan could not deny himself such a trait, “Yes, hmm...” he glanced at Alexander’s outfit, making a brief more professional acceptance of the man’s dark, attire. The golden intricacies were finely embroidered into the cuffs and so forth of the outfit, “Mademoiselle Evelyn is very much a doll… But, so are you,” the man paused and took the chance to look at Alexander once again, studying the man’s features, “Your masquerades sound absolutely delightful. However, I fear simply mentioning them at such an operando might be cause for some impolite scandal,” his eyes cast down as his eyebrows motioned in exaggerated concern.

A switch in conversation was needed, and he swallowed and perked a small smile. His eyes glanced whimsically around as if he was trying to make it appear that he was trying to keep any eavesdroppers from believing he would be alleviating himself a secret onto his company, “I must inform you,” he leaned closer. One arm folded across his chest, the other raised, like he was going to point at a fixture on the library and make a boring comment that only a man of dry humor could possibly contrive as interesting, “My younger brother, whom I have told you very little about if nothing at all — probably for good reason, such as, he is extremely vulnerable and definitely only save for things that have absolutely nothing to do with gossip aside from what I am about to tell you,” his raised-hand fanned and made a small motion as his face turned to Alexander, looking up at him with slightly demeaning eyes, “is going to be working in my perfumery. I expect you to be on your best behavior,” Finnegan’s hand lowered and a closed lip laugh smiled on him as he awaited Alexander’s expression.

Then again, Finnegan thought he was perhaps not being as polite as he usually was with Alexander. It was tough to say. His very own style had been compromised sometime ago, which was dissuading his attention, and tonight was growing longer by the second. The nerves in the room smelled like a feast for whoever was playing puppeteer for the event. Lady Alyssana might know a thing or two about what was happening, but he would rather find his information elsewhere. Alexander seemed more informed than he did, and therefore, he continued circumventing his own way to the middle of the situation.

E v e l y n A 𝓼 h t o n

Watching Finnegan leave the conversation was disheartening. Evelyn wished to follow after him, but knew she would be acting foolishly if she bid herself so. Her eyes glanced up at Lady Alyssana’s, beneath her birdish mask. She thought to ask Lady Alyssana how long she knew Monsieur Finnegan, but alas, her timing was too slow, and a new woman approached them both. Evelyn’s hands spread, and she gave a small curtsy. “Thank you. The pleasure is all mine, as Monsieur Finnegan Oaks has invited me as his guest,” her voice seemed airy as it chimed through the air, attempting to sound all too natural with this setting. Albeit, she knew nothing of Lady Alyssana and Lottie or their status aside from being noble of some sort. She had wanted to also make herself known as Lord Finnegan Oak’s date, but her voice was not quite strong enough to make such a strong hold on his name during her introduction.

The woman, Lottie, after making her swift introduction began at once to compliment things on Lady Alyssana as the young lady had vaguely been wanting to do, and Evelyn’s own hand drew upwards, slowly feeling the beads and jewels that daintily glamoured her own mask. Finnegan had mentioned the mask had been worn by his mother at one time or another. He had also complimented how beautifully she was wearing it. Her hand gently nipped the mask, as if to make it appear that she had been adjusting her mask quietly, and in paranoia, believing that her movements were all too obvious, dropped her hand back to a fold over her other hand, penitently positioned in front of her lower waist.

Briefly, she looked around the room, trying to locate her dearest Finnegan and his whereabouts. However, there was a haze that made her feel less interested in scurrying off. For one, it was bad etiquette; for two, it was not what her lord had asked for the two ladies; for three, she just did not feel like it. (Her eyes felt heavy.) Instead, she began trying to remind herself to pick up the social cues from the very company right in front of her. It did not in the least come to her mind that her father’s surname had not once been mentioned. She was still astonished by the entire ordeal to notice, and suddenly, another person made his acquaintance. He was a childish looking thing, and was quipped with such an elegant innocence. The most she could do for the boy was make a small nod, as she had witnessed Lady Alyssana do to her during their introductions.

[shylarah]

Lady Alyssana Grey

"I'm disappointed, Lottie," Alyssana replied, her tone gently teasing. "You've known my brother long enough to recognize his craftsmanship." She exchanged a few pleasantries with Charlotte, letting the bubbly woman do most of the talking, until Arsenio approached them.

"It's good to see you, Arsenio." Alyssana didn't quite smile, but the light in her eyes brightened in genuine pleasure. She noted with some interest the title of the book he carried, a bit young for her tastes at the lofty age of twenty-eight, but one she'd read and enjoyed as a youngster. "Arsenio, this is Charlotte Vernell, who will insist upon being called Lottie, and this is Miss Evelyn, a friend of a friend. Ladies, meet Arsenio." It wasn't quite polite to omit the rest of his name, but she left speaking the rest to him, hoping he'd read into the action her continued protection of secrets that were not hers to share. She'd known him long enough to recognize the tension in his movements, and she could only imagine what might be going through his head in response to the summons he must have received. She spared a singularly uncharitable thought for whomever dragged him into this, and then reminded herself that Arsenio should be more than capable of looking after himself. Not an adult, not yet, but still far more mature than he looked -- or acted.

She allowed enough time for the exchange of pleasantries before neatly disengaging from the other two women. "You must excuse us for a little. Miss Evelyn, if you have need of me I shan't be far." With that she escorted Arsenio to a place where, she hoped, they would not be overheard. It was hard to be sure, with the number of unknowns present, but most of them seemed to be otherwise occupied, or at least doing a good job of pretending to be.

"I'm sure you were kept equally in the dark about the purpose of this little gathering, though I suspect you've made a few surmises. Here is what I would like to add to that. Captain Kingsford may be trusted, within reason, though she is not keen on anything that breaks the law. However she has invited several people from the Institute and Geraldine's and at least one person with definite criminal ties, so she is in serious need. I came as a favor to her personally. I'm glad now that I did. This has the feel of something significant."

Alyssana looked down at Arsenio, considering. Should she offer him specific reassurance? No, she decided, not unless he voiced a concern. He was easily the equal of anyone present; she wouldn't demean him so without invitation.

[RavensMuse]

This is a story of the Sad Dollmaker...

A girl stepped quietly through the busy crowds of Gearsport. Though merchants bustling with many amazing toys, and inventions designed to wonder and amaze. Her pink hair hung in a pair of heavy curls on each side of her head, her heavy blast goggles, blackened lenses reflecting those who look curiously at the young woman seeing only their own confusion staring back at them.

She was Reeza, the Lady of Puppets. One of the more notable figures in Gearsport, for both her puppets and her mechanical dolls. Her shop was one of the more mysterious locations in Gearsport. Often drawing visitors just to say they've met the mysterious Lady. Yet, for those who came into the shop seeking the perfect gift for their little one, or a sweetheart. Reeza made sure they left with the perfect new friend. Speaking of friends...

A strange mechanical doll named Lorelei, trailed behind Reeza, carrying a heavy felt bag made of the most wonderful red velvet. The doll's porcelain white skin was a stark contrast to the beautiful black petticoat she was draped in. Her black eyes, a copy of the blast goggles worn by it's owner gave the same uncomfortable gaze to onlookers.

Well, to most onlookers...

A young girl spied Reeza, and recognizing the mechanical doll and pink hair rushed away from her parents to meet the dollmaker. She tugged on the petticoat of the inventor, who nearly jumped out of her skin at the distraction. As Reeza yelped, Lorelei reached for the young girl, assuming her mistress' command meant she was in danger. Reeza, realizing that it was just a little girl shushed Lorelei to force the doll to return to it's standing position. The little girl, still awestruck by meeting Reeza, babbled on about how her dolls were the prettiest and when she gets her allowance, her mummy promised they'd go to the Puppets string and pick out a doll for herself. Reeza looked curiously at the child as her parents placed themselves between her and their child.

"We...we're sorry Lady Reeza, she likes to talk to strangers. We...we promised her a doll from your shop when we had the money." The mother said nothing, just stared at Reeza. Reeza, looked past the parents to the little one.

"Does she have a doll," the little girl shook her head.

"Mummy promised she'd get me one of yours..." Reeza looked at the parents, their clothing did not look well tailored, and in dire need of repair. Yet they're willing to pay her prices for one of her dolls?

"Why my dolls?" Reeza asked softly. The girl looked towards her parents before she responded.

"You always talk about dolls bein' something more. They're friends, secret holders, and be your guardian," the girl replied nervously. Reeza's ruby red lips creased at the edges a little, hearing of how she thinks of her creations coming from another. She turned towards Lorelei, opening the red velvet bag.

"That's right," she replied, "a girl's dolly is something special..." She continued to search through the bag before holding something behind her back. "You should always treasure your dolly," She bent forwards, keeping her hands behind her back. The young girl's reflection stared back at her though the goggles. Reeza revealed her surprise, a small brunette doll with a pretty red and white dress for the child. She gingerly took the doll from Reeza, like it was an illusion and may blow away with the slightest gust of wind. As she realized the doll was not going to fall apart, she shrieked in joy at her new friend. Reeza smiled softly, her satisfaction at a perfect pairing. "Please see me if she needs any work."

The father looked at Reeza, who returned to securing the bag held by Lorlei. "Umm we always said we'd get her one once we had the money, just the airship transport ain't paying what it used to." As he stammered for excuses, he realized the dollmaker was barely paying attention to him. "I can pay you, just name it, I can bring by a little each time."

Reeza looked one more time at the young girl who was hugging her new doll and showing the gift off to her mother. Her voice didn't have the same warmth it held for the child, she also slightly bowed her head at the man. It was an odd gesture to the man, considering she was one of the more notable figures in Gearsport. "Please, just make sure she's happy." With that, Reeza continued her walk towards her destination without another word. The father looked at the pink haired dollmaker, trying to figure out if he meant the doll, or his daughter...

Reeza and Lorelei continued to their intended destination. A large building that had seen many better days, the sign had a single faded word overtop the rotten wooden doors.

Orphanage

Reeza felt her anxiety begin creeping along the small of her back, like little icy pinpricks of a needle. She looked to Lorelei, "please knock." The doll raised a lace covered hand, rapping three methodical thumps upon the door. There was hushed lull as an older woman answered the door.

"Lady Valarios, I thought you said you weren't able to finish the order until next week." Matron Desma's voice crackled, like splintering wood. She was a kindly old woman, but she was holding the entire orphanage together with donations and sheer willpower. The years were catching up with her.

"Lorelei, please give Matron Desma the bag." Reeza's voice was hushed as she took a step back to allow Lorelei the proper space to present the bag to the elderly Matron. She nearly toppled over from the weight of the bag, a massive whoosh emitted from the bag as it fell to the ground. Looking inside, "there are many more dolls in here...I can't pay you for the additional ones you know." She muttered sheepishly to the pink haired woman.

Reeza looked at the barren halls inside the orphanage, it took all her resolve to not pivot heel and leave right now. "I ordered too much fabric, and I heard from one of the bakers that they've had issues supplying the extra mouths that you recently ended up with. I assume some of them need comfort." Reeza didn't have the courage to let the Matron know she'd also payed the Orphanage's tab with her most recent visit to the same baker. She'd let the Matron discover this on her next visit...

The elderly woman laughed softly, "I know you could tell me the exact amount of fabric that goes into each doll. Probably the amount of thread and stuffing as well, please don't lie to an old woman like that."

Reeza shuffled her feet back and forth as she sheepishly rubbed a lace covered hand. "I...I don't want any of them who need a doll to not have one." The Matron smiled, as she gestured inside.

"They'd love to meet you," Reeza shook her head as she instinctively took a step back.

"Sorry Matron, I have to return to my shop. I have a project underway and I can't let the cores sit for too long." Sure, the cores of her dolls were what powered them, but they were fine to sit for eons before they became a problem. It was a lie, the orphanage was a sad time for Reeza and she did..couldn't return to those halls.

The Matron nodded, "just don't be a stranger. I'll let the children choose their own dolls as you like." Reeza smiled, just a little as she curtsied to the Matron before departing.

As the pair returned through Gearsport to her shop, "The Puppet's Strings." She felt her body begin to relax, this was sanctuary, her home. She unlocked the heavy door, complete with her own pressure pad to ensure that if anyone got her key, they'd still need to know about the little trick to her lock. Stepping inside, Reeza let her shoulders slump and she fell into the oversized chair before she opened her eyes to her shop.

There was hundreds of puppets, dolls, and mechanical creatures of varying sizes and designs. She whispered softly, "I'm home." With that, the world sprang to life. The marionette's began to dance in a lazy circle, her mechanical dolls designed for tea, or dress up, or a dozen other activities began to take on their own life as the routines began. Turning to Lorelei, Reeza issued her next request, "Please go to your charging station." Lorelei nodded before heading to the charging pad in the back of the artisan's shop.

Reeza picked up one particular doll, often kept just out of eyesight of everyone else. Yet it was always in her reach. It was a cobbled together doll made from a variety of fabric scraps. Her first doll, after the accident. She let her fingers trail over the scratchy fabric, noting every stitch, every crease. It made this doll unique, one in a field of many. Yet if it wasn't for these little dolls, she wouldn't have any of her new life. Her Uncle and Aunt found her, gave her schooling, taught her about her gifts, and even helped get the Puppet Strings started.

All from a simple doll...

A knock at the door startled Reeza from her memories. Quickly standing from the chair, she straightened out her dress and tried to smooth out the wrinkles. Oh wait, did she sleep in this dress by accident? Scolding herself, Reeza tried to make a note not to do that again. Maybe a doll to remind her about proper night time attire? The knock at the door snapped her out of this set of questions. Reeza quickly opened the door to a messenger who looked nervously at the young woman inside. "Message for Ms Valarious," he handed her the letter as a feline shaped machine slowly drew itself out of the shadows. The tail made a strange whooosh sound as it looked upon the guest. "Umm Maam, there is something wrong with your cat?"

Reeza looked behind as she saw one of her projects, "Shattered Claw" and it's barbed tail looking ready to lash out at the trembling boy. "Oh, sorry. He doesn't like visitors after hours." He looked nervously at the barbed tail as it made another whooshing sound. "Be nice please." The dollmaker spoke curtly to the creature. It's tail slowed, and looked towards it's Mistress for it's next request. "Sorry," she gave a handful of coins to the messenger before closing the heavy door.

Reeza quickly opened the parchment, it was official, an invite to a masquerade ball? Reeza was really not good at these types of events. How could she wear a mask with her goggles, she nervously chewed her lip as she walked to the crafting room she designated at the back of the shop. She pulled her heavy blast goggles off, her green eyes squinting as she adjusted to a normal level of light once again. She looked at her reflection in a mirror she often used to check inside her inventions to make sure everything lined up. She saw her shockingly bright pink locks, a result of her nervousness at the Madame's School. Thankfully, one girl there defended her, she even made Reeza feel a little better about herself that day...

She still hated meeting anyone's gaze, and the goggles always solved that. Looking at Lorelei, and the porcelain face she'd crafted to hide the mechanical creature underneath.

Wait...the dolls face!

Reeza grinned as she ran to her parts cabinet, throwing open the heavy soot-stained doors she began to sort through drawers. She muttered to herself as she found a pair of shiny black lenses! Going to her project wall, she drew forth a lovely porcelain mask she'd created for another doll, but it wasn't quite right for her. Yet with a little red paint...maybe...some gold filigree, some black paint...

As Reeza exited the carriage, with Lorelei in tow. She carefully adjusted the new mask covering her face. The dolls mask she'd fastened with black lace around the back of her pink hair, and the black lenses placed overtop the mask helped her feel a bit more at ease. Lorelei stood patiently at her side, wearing an imitation of the dress Reeza had chosen for the evening. The corset was always so tricky to put on, but Madame would be so upset if she didn't dress properly for the occasion. A burnished brown corset, and a bright white blouse underneath, with these neat little sleeves that hung loose around her arms. She chose a long flowing brown skirt to finish her outfit, with a beautiful white trim around the bottom that trailed behind her. When the light hit the skirt just right, silvery gold brocade glowed against the light. Reeza carefully palmed a springrazor she kept hidden within the hem of her skirt, she trusted her host, just wasn't sure why the Captain would be interested in her...

As she stepped to the door, the guard looked at the woman and her doll. "Is this your guest?" He asked teasingly.

Reeza looked toward the man, unsure of the shared laughter between them. "Yes, she's my guest." The man looked a little stunned for a moment before letting her pass. The pair shared an uneasy glance between eachother. The Lady of Puppets carried many stigmas, and one more frightening is the doll that followed her.

A well dressed man gestured to the pair, "Lady Valarios," he proceeded to lead the dollmaker to the main hall of the party.

As Reeza quietly checked the lace straps on her mask for the seventeenth time since she stepped from the cab. She caught Lorelei looking at her curiously. "I know, I know, but it makes me feel better.." She chided the doll. As she stepped into the main hall, the booming voice of the man who lead her here echoed over her.

"Lady of Puppets, Reeza Valarios," Reeza felt her blood run cold as her hopes of being invisible for this event evaporated. She was ready to leave the hall as she felt Lorelei's metallic grasp on her arm. It reassured her, even calmed her down, steadied her. Her dolls always did that. She curtsied to the guests and quickly blended into the crowd, well aware that underneath the porcelain dolls mask, adorned with ruby lips and green eyes, Reeza herself was blushing red with embarrassment.

As she looked about nervously, she pulled out the invitation to review the details. Library, yes, the library! It would probably be less crowded in the library, tapping Lorelei on her shoulder, triggering the dolls follow function. The pair slowly waded through the crowd of bodies towards the library. As she crept into the massive library, her curiosity at the endless rows of books nearly distracted her from her actual purpose. Reeza noted many others were already in the library, were they part of the letter too? Reeza quickly stepped across the floor to the others before bowing her head to the others.

She noted at least two people she could recognize, Lady Alyssana is most definitely one of the guests. Mainly through the beautiful clockwork wings, the inspiration for Lorelei's own defensive measures. She was the student who defended her after her, well, newly acquired hair color. The young man was another notable figure to her. She had many wonderful conversations with his father, Hermes, Arsenio was always a welcome guest in the Puppet Strings. She bowed her head to the others, before she cautiously spoke, each word almost painfully chosen.

"Good evening, Lady Alyssana, Mister Arsenio," she tried to recognize any others in the room, and realized she honestly was having difficulties grasping names, "Honored guests, I assume we are all here with mention of the library?" The dollmaker asked curiously.