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

[Stern Algorithm]

A R S E N I O

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"Lennard-Jones," Arsenio added, choosing to divulge his surname. If they were all here for the same reason, his true nature would be found out sooner or later, though it wasn't as if his family name was much of a hint. After all, to cover up his existence, his father's company and assets had 'switched hands in good faith', so as not to create a huge scandal, since scandals createde gossip, and gossip got mouths flapping. The most that people not in the know would get out of the name was perhaps a hint of a company that had once existed that made exquisite luxury windup trinkets, though that fame was quickly being eclipsed by younger, more modern, talented dollmakers.

Arsenio allowed himself to be escorted away from the group by Professor Grey.

"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."

@shylarah

"Well, my existence breaks the law, so I believe the Captain shan't like me very much," Arsenio said with a jovial cynicism. I do wonder though, am I to be used as a weapon, or am I to be dissected?" Arsenio smiled a precocious, almost smug, smile, though pain was evident behind it, "I apologize, Professor, I've said too much. Your...presence is reassuring, as is your faith in the Captain. My father and I were understandably put-off to receive a summons from the Supreme Commander, so it is good to know that the man, and this event which passes for a ball, is just a front."

Arsenio was put even more at ease as he saw the approach of The Lady of Dolls, a family friend, though as she called out to the rest of the 'honored guests', Arsenio involuntarily pulled the front rim of his hat a little lower and tilted his head down so as not to meet the gaze of anyone whose attention might have been drawn. He really did have to work on his acting.

[shylarah]

Lady Alyssana Grey

"Nobody is dissecting anyone, Arsenio." Alyssana snapped the words out with quiet force, though she gave him a small, apologetic smile immediately after. "No apologies necessary; I understand." She rested her hand briefly on the young man's shoulder before turning to regard the latest arrival. Had it not been for the pink hair and the ever-present doll, Alyssana would not have been able to place her. It took a moment longer to recall the lady's name, at which point the puzzlement cleared from Alyssana's face.

"Lady Reeza Valarios, isn't it? What an unexpected pleasure." She'd not seen the young puppeteer in years, though she kept an ear out for the occasional bit of news. "I've heard you made quite a name for yourself. Yes, I suspect the summons you received was similar to mine, and likely that of most of the others here. But as the one responsible has yet to call us to any kind of order, we are simply gathering, for the time being."

[Mr Rage]

Elizabeth and Chester made their way around the Library, genuinely admiring the collection and the artistry that went into its construction. Elizabeth, always the impatient one, had started to grow bored with the activity and took to making small quips about everyone in the room. Of course, with everyone's masks on it was impossible to say if either of them actually knew anyone, perhaps once the masks were removed they might recognize someone from their pasts, from school. But as the couple continued to stroll arm in arm Elizabeth saw a form that she knew without a doubt who it was, even with their mask on, one Dame LaVerre.

The two had a past with one another dating back quite a ways into their schooling that never seemed to have been dealt with... Whatever it was... It had been a little while since graduating from the program, but all the same their limited interactions since then have all been... well, they could only be described politely as strained, if nothing more than restraint was used in the name of proper decorum. However, her contempt for those who come from more base lineage was never vailed, and while Elizabeth came from a family of craftsman with some renown, her husband Chester had come from squalor. So not only did the esteemed Dame disapprove of Chester for not being born into money, she also had an open disapproval of Elizabeth for marrying 'outside' of her station.

It took several shushes from Chester to quiet his wife before her comments, impolite as they were, about a particular guest became too loud. Those nearby might have heard the commotion but most likely not the content of the words. "Really dear, you must behave yourself or else this petty feud will continue on in perpetuity. All you are doing is giving her credence to her claims about our stations, honestly. Oh, look here, who is this with the wings? Someone we know?"

Elizabeth looked to where Chester had gestured, the distraction worked to keep her from continuing her verbal abuses of the other woman. "I think we do not know her, not yet at least, but I suspect that we may know of her. Come, let us make our acquaintances."

The Lockhearts made their way across the library and approached the winged woman as she conversed with a child. Before they made it to a polite distance another woman made it there, however they must have been close enough as they were included as they made their greetings as the "Honored guests" part of the statement.

"Our apologies for intruding," Chester started speaking, his soothing voice lending its charm, those within earshot might have felt more at ease with their approach, "We couldn't help but notice your beautiful wings and mask from across the room and felt we just had to have a look at them closer, and of course introduce ourselves if we may."

Chester reached out his hand, offering to shake the boy's hand, "I am Chester Lockheart, and this is my wife Elizabeth."

Elizabeth gave a polite curtsy to the group, "A pleasure to meet you all, I'm sure." On closer inspection of the other new comer, there was a chance that she remembered another fellow student from Geraldine's... it was hard to say, but how many women walked about town with pink hair?

[RavensMuse]

Reeza smiled politely to Arsenio, noting the youth had taken a defensive posture as she'd revealed his identity. She silently chided herself as she realized not everyone holds the same respect for the living doll she held.

She had also made a promise to his father, that if anyone threaten Arsenio, she'd educate them on the respect the creation deserved. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as Lorelei stood beside them, the false-life doll standing patiently beside the pair. She whispered quietly to Arsenio as she placed her hands in front of herself once again.

"Be calm, sometimes to be like the rest of them, we simply need to belong..." Reeza felt the same as the young creation did most times, yet without the excuse of being a creation. She had taught herself how to interact with the others through experimentation, practice, understanding and trying once again. She felt a kinship with Arsenio, often relating more to him then many denizens of Gearsport. Thus, he was always a welcome sight in any situation.

As Lady Alyssana came up to greet Reeza, she felt her face flush a deep crimson beneath her mask. Thankful for the full mask would prevent her face betraying her own emotions she bowed her head to Alysanna. "Thank you Lady Alysanna, your complement is most welcome. Yet I'm not sure what need the captain needs of me.." The fact that Alysanna remembered Reeza's name had slightly caused the young dollmaker to feel flustered at the complement.

Memories of the alchemy class came flooding back to Reeza, before the creation of Lorelei and her invention of the Core system that allowed her dolls to create their false-life. She was often on the receiving end of many of the more fortunate girls of the Finishing School. Being the only girl who still took a doll with her where ever she went resulted in many harsh words being sent her way, and the occasional prank being played at her expense.

That was the case for this particular class, when a student had placed a melting orb of an unknown substance in Reeza's alchemy table. At the time, the strawberry blonde dollmaker was carefully preparing her station when an explosion from her experiment sent her to the floor gasping for air. A cloud of laughter erupted around her as Reeza tried to clear the strange pink substance from her eyes. As she slowly got to her feet, she realized the strange sludge had interacted with her hair, dying it the same bright pink. Feeling heavy tears well up around her eyes, she tried her best not to give them the satisfaction...

She heard a solid clicking of someone stepping to her station, Reeza kept her head down to try and hide her tears. A clear voice struck out beside her. "How dare you laugh," the voice of Lady Alysanna cut through the laughter, silencing the class. A slender hand reached down to help Reeza to her feet. "don't let them grind you down, besides," the slender lips curled into a small grin. "I think the color suits you," Alysanna commented before addressing the class about what the penalty for foolishly mixing certain elements incorrectly. Reeza sat quietly, her own breakdown was shorted out. She looked at a stray lock of the newly colored hair with a bit of pride afterwards.

So needless to say, Reeza was left a little stunned by Lady Alysanna paying attention to her exploits.

As the couple introduced themselves, Reeza curtsied back. Lorelei, noticing her mistress had greeted these newcomers mimiced the pose as her false-life programming instructed her. "Thank you, I am Reeza Valarios, the Lady of Dolls." She gestured to her creation, "this is Lorelei." The doll's eyes seemed to shimmer as it acknowledged the woman.

[Briza]

L o r d W a l t e r O a k 𝓼

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock...

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock...

Tick-tock. Tick-tock...

Tinkering noises of mechanical gizmos clicked on a wooden bookshelf, elaborately posted inside the frame of Lord Walter Oak's bed, where he was lying motionless and half-asleep. These tickety ornaments consisted of a sundry mixture of playful, whimsical, and petty talent: A small rust-red tin dog, clinked it's tail back-and-forth as it's metal paws marched in a small circular path along the wooden plate. It's snoot was black and angled upwards. An ivory and metal rabbit with gear-propelled ears and reddish eyes rested solemnly atop its curled hind legs. A strange white and gold and brass metallic bird pecked and ticked as its peak opened for small melancholy chimes. A lacquer, blonde haired porcelain dolly sat with benign posture in a dazzling Victorian outfit. A jeweled and nobbled owl with finely tuned metal wings that varied in metal and color clicked its sapphire eyes and ruffled its neck with automatic timing. And, other various trinkets of whimsical machinery bobbed their bits and pieces to their own arbitrary, idiosyncratic rhythms, as well. These were the first and last things the lord heard every morning and evening.

A dark and red steam train with gold labeling puffed its wheels around a track, which acted as a circumference on a long-legged table that mapped Hourglass City. Its engine turned in a chiming manner as the novelty locomotion made its way through the various parts of the city. Each district was sculpted in a unique flair. There was an obviously hint of baroque fantasy and over-abundant clockwork infused from a more romantic standpoint. Above New Toppingham, hung balloons and airships from the bedroom ceiling. Each were detachable and able to propel themselves in a pattern along the room's interior. However, it seemed that they were at rest, as were the tin citizens that were standing aloof amongst the architectural model. They were small men and women, each with a unique outfit, quite styled with a specific characteristic and genre in mind. There lack of disciplined location indicated someone had been playing with them not too long ago.

Upon the wall, a swinging pendulum knocked against copper and brass, turning gears and winds and hands in-and-over a faded, dark blue astronomical clock. The clock was large in size and was hung next to the tall table. It acted as a Clock Tower for the embellished toy replica of Hourglass City and worked as Walter's favorite form of reading the time. He could sit in a chair adjacent the wall that the clock was positioned and even read a book from the library, stretched across the dark wood wall. Educational and fictional books were placed in alphabetical order along the shelves. Some of the books seemed too young for the man lying in bed. Opposite the library, there was a large richly framed window with an extended sill, dressed in cushion and decorated spreads as an alternate place to read or nap. Heavy antique-gold curtains draped openly over the window. The light from the sun was peaking through the glass and sheer cloth, and thus, was interrupting the master's sleep.

“I don't want to wake up, though.”

The thought stretched through his body as he groaned silently to himself, begging his mind to calm and relax as to keep himself asleep just a little while longer. He had no favor in awakening at this moment, but oh, his toys wanted his attention, now. They could be so impatient with him, and sometimes he wondered why he had them if all they were going to do was nag him when he was not feeling so well. He nudged his palm into his quiet face, rubbing his left eye as his head turned into the fuzzy, plush feeling of his pillow. And, the clicking continued to click as the clacking of the train and its tracks continued to stir and awaken the room, and he turned his whole body over, as well.

On this motion, he realized, he was also a tad bit uncomfortable from a draft that was humming through the room, for he had accidentally kicked all of his blankets and sheets to one side of the large bed during the course of the night. It appeared, now in the spring time, he was having a difficult time keeping himself warm, even in his feverish state. And, an arm stretched out his hand and grabbed at a thin, loose sheet. He pulled it over himself and attempted to fall back to sleep. For a while it worked, and he was nestled and curled under the white sheet.

Walter nursed his thoughts the best he could, and for several moments, the silence of the morning was gentle and soothing, once again. His breaths were still able to depress steadily from having just awoken from a dream that was very gluttonous in laziness, and he was still feeling its sweet temptations trying to cradle him back into a peaceful slumber. However, despite all, he could not manage to put himself to sleep, again. For no matter how pleasant the quietness was, the clicking in his room continued to click; and the ticking in his room continued to tick; and right when he was beginning to feel at ease with all the commotion that use used to keep himself from feeling lonely, the cuckoo clock above the frame of his bed decided to wake him up for good.

The little baubles began to stir under the clock's house and a cheery song or some soft began to hum softly as the miniature, in their resin and wood decored top hats and petticoats with lace corsages and parasols began to spin in playful, jesting circular motions:
“Koo-koo! Koo-koo! — !”

“Ahh...” pale lips spread open and his voice was whispered in a vain distraught yawn as he stretched out his fey body. The satin of his nightgown slid against his skin and bedding, and it felt nice, as always. With his fists clenched, now, he pushed his arms above his head, and the bed frame was pushed against by now open palms and fingertips. Walter closed his eyes shut and drew in the last sound that he had made. “I still do not want to wake up,” he sighed as he sat himself upwards, leaning his upper body against folded, tucked arms. The navy blue clock reading back at him said the day had just struck noon. His face dropped as he tried to make sense of how long he had slept. God forbid he not meet his brother for breakfast, “Oh golly,” he said breathlessly, turning to face the window and peer through the sheer, white fabric that fell over the glass, “How... however did I...?” Walter sat his body more upwards, and once again, pressed his hand to his face, feeling the flushed curvature of his cheek bone against the soft of his hand. His hand was cold, and his flushed cheek appreciated this. The young man inhaled several times, and eventually, after several small moments, his shoulders dropped in relaxation. A smile woke up his face as his head shook, and the brown fluff of his hair shagged with the movement. He was silly for thinking his brother would be upset with him. Nonetheless, he wished he could have joined him... His attention turned towards his machinery, then.

“And here, I was making mean thoughts about all my friends...”

A mechanical dragonfly fluttered its wings after noticing the commotion in the master's bed. The flutter caught Walter's attention and turned it towards his nightstand, “Oh...” Walter let out a sigh upon seeing it and thought to thank his friends and apologize for being miserable. He moved and swung his legs to the side of his bed to where his feet could now touch the floor, and he wiggled them a little but stopped short of getting too childish when he saw that a silver tray had been placed on his nightstand. An upside down cup was placed next to a teapot, and utensils were wrapped in a napkin, folded with the design embroidering his surname correctly. The fork and knife peeked out of the top opening. A silver covering was fitted over what appeared to be an ornate plate. He imagined his breakfast was underneath the beautiful piece. Next to the plate was a small piece of parchment paper, propped by its mountain fold. It read in Finnegan's handwriting:

“𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒲𝒶𝓁𝓉𝑒𝓇.”

There was nothing more than the simple greeting written. His fingers felt the paper and fiddled with the edges. He found himself investing more time into the mundane intricacies of the note than he ought to have. This was a reoccurring dilemma with him, which he knew he had, but in this instance, he was more concerned with the knowledge that the note had been done offhandedly and not even on one of his brother's personalized note papers. That was alright. He had woken up late, and there was some other reason beckoning him. Walter thought about this reason that tugged at small parts of his own waning guiltiness for having dreamt too long in his bed, again, “Oh dear... My poorest dear brother,” he whispered inaudibly to himself upon remembering, “his perfumery,” the man's hand held up the note, and his eyes retraced the curves that indented letters into words upon the parchment, “I am a horrid apprentice, already, and an even more wretched brother,” It was obvious his brother had forgiven him. He would not have made him breakfast, otherwise. However, the quaintness was something to be remembered.

Walter sat the note next to him in his bed. It rested on the pillow that lie next to his. His torso twisted as he looked down at his gray nightwear and then to the tea cup. Its handle had a gold finish that curved nicely, and if he had wanted to go ahead and skip breakfast to find his brother to beg an apology he knew would be granted, anyways, he was trapped with curiosity through lifting the cup to examine the handle before finally realizing he ought to put tea in it. And, after he put tea in the cup, he lifted himself and shuffled hazily towards the model train. Despite his overall feelings, his posture was astute and noble as he admired the chugging locomotive. What a good train. He began to think such thoughts like these. They became cloudy with comparison, as well. It's engine was probably hotter than the water soaking the tea in his cup, he continued to think to himself. He thought other things about how his breakfast was probably cold, and he should go bother a house servant for another meal. He also thought about how Finnegan may have had nothing to do with his breakfast except for the touch of his handwriting.

And then, he thought:
“It is still a nice touch.”

Letting out a sigh, his eyes studied the model, closely examining the street signs by remembering their names before reading them, making sure the layout had not been tampered when moved into his brother's place. He had been living here for almost a week, now, but Finnegan and he had hardly seen each other. The move had been quick, and they both decided letting him get used to the place before moving schedules around their personal clocks was the best option. Tonight, his brother had a ball of some sort to attend with his new girlfriend, Evelyn, and he was supposed to be shown around the Perfumery and the laboratory. He had yet to see the latter, and he was very eager to memorize the layout. However, he was feeling more bashful than usual having awoken so late and mustering up the courage to show up with his tail tucked between his legs was seeming harder and harder to bring himself to do.

He also still needed to apologize to his gizmos and gadgets for the rude awakening thoughts. The ceramic mug was brought to his lips, and cold tea seeped through his lips. It felt nice even if cold, he admitted to himself. That was Walter, though. He had barely a mean bone in his body. His head turned to look at the shelf and the only words that came out were, “I was invited to the ball, as well,” his eyes dropped into the tinted water that rested in his cup, “I am sure ye understand as to why I have not the faintest ability to attend,” he felt suddenly ridiculous addressing them like so, as if there were several pairs of eyes watching him and were laughing as they saw him make such a fool out of his loneliness, but he continued anyways, “Thank you, though, for all that,” he looked at several of the baubles that made the move with him. Finnegan had somehow convinced him that bringing his entire luxury would be a complete waste, and there was a pain in his heart to leave behind several of his bits and pieces, “In the future, I shall demand myself to be more understanding,” he lowered himself, thinking how excited he was to begin things in a more normal manner. However, he was certain there really was no manner of normalcy for him to truly endure. His ticks and tocks new this all too well.

“Good morning...”

Finishing his strange apology and the last bit of tea in the little cup, Walter made small effort in his movement to put the cup back on the tray, and he picked up the tray and brought it from his room, with no qualms of walking through the foyer in his attire, to which drew the immediate attention of a house servant. The attention was so readily available, Walter believed the servant had been sent to mind his whereabouts all day today, “Lord Finnegan,” the servant began, addressing him with obedience, “There is a guest in the East Quarter, Mademoiselle Evelyn. She would be very scandalized to see you in your night trousers. Please,” his hands motioned for the tray with a nod tilting to the bedroom door, “If you need help changing, I shall make request. for your assistance. Lord Finnegan has asked for no disturbances in the slightest.”

“Oh, of course,” Walter made a small, sheepish smile, showing brightness towards the shorter, more elder framed man. His own chin lifted as he drew in a small breath, “Mademoiselle Evelyn. I have heard she is quite nice,” he was a little taken that his brother was not making work in the Perfumery but instead, he was taking a lavish break with a lady. However, the man took no qualms against his brother, even if he ought to have. There just was not a mean bone in the man's body. There were several adventurous ones, though, and he thought to try and meet them for a quick greeting before venturing through the large expenditure of the manor. He had yet to do so in the time frame that he had been given, as he had been so busy making sure all of his trinkets were put into their proper placing.

“Yes, Madamoiselle Evelyn is quite the pleasure for Lord Finnegan,” the balded servant assured him, looking up and square at the youthful, broad shouldered master. And while they stood making small talk, which consisted of last night's sleep and his well-being, Walter requested another meal be made fresh for him. He insisted that he would enjoy it in the dining room or the somewhere else than his bedroom, at least. But, when Finnegan went to his bedroom, he found himself ever more comfortable in his bed, again, and upon resting his cheek against the pillow, his light eyes glanced at the note and the calligraphy of his brother's handwriting and closed his eyes once more. The ticking continued to tick, and the clicking continued to click. Eventually, Walter dose back into a trance of dreams and merriment. He would not awaken until the evening and be made by his own folly that he may have merely dreamt of this morning's happen chance, since it was for such a small amount of time, and the letter would become tangled in his own mess of sheets and covers and tossings and turnings. The faint smell of food would also be dusted away by the small spring air circulating softly throughout the entire house.

[Briza]

E v e l y n A 𝓼 h t o n

“Oh,” her lips opened like rose buds as she imagined the conversation in her memory, just moments after having it take place. Lady Alyssana was departing for a brief amount of time. Her right hand drew upwards. The perfumed glove touched the air close to her chin, motioning either a tiny farewell or an indication of a question. It did not matter what it meant, truly, for Lady Alyssana had already stepped aside after politely taking her exit. The young woman looked around willfully. She would have been more exasperated had she not been under such one of Lord Finnegan's stupors. The dangling, white beads on her mask shifted over her nymph, blushed cheeks. She did not see her lord anywhere, and it dawned on the poor creature that more guests had taken their places inside the library.

“She is not far, Lady Alyssana, just a bit away.”

Evelyn smiled politely towards Lady Alyssana and the young child's direction. It was thought that the conversation must be something so important she would not be able to hear it. Such a notable thing seemed like a treasure to her, even if it made her feel more childlike than usual. Finnegan seemed to nurture this part of her. Her appearance indicated that she was now admiring Lottie, the most peppiest thing she had seen all night, and without much thought, the mademoiselle smiled, again, with kissed lips, “Your outfit is truly, very lovely,” her voice spoke more melancholy than she was expecting it to sound and forced a shy smile of repentance in some conversation form of recovery. Her heart was skipping like a little rabbit's thumping foot, and yet for the life of her, she could not muster up any energy to be of any excitement beyond the calm exterior that was keeping her quite subdued. She wished for Lord Finnegan to come take up her arm, once again.

[MorningStar1399]

A L E X A N D E R

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Alexander raised his brows at Finnegan. “As if everyone isn’t already thinking of it,” he pointed out. “Or at least those who have seen my festivities in the past. Or perhaps even those of the Minister of the Craftsman Guild, though I do believe his wife is behind most of the decorating. Lovely woman, Lady Chandler. We have tea once a month or so. I do hope to see her here this evening. Her children are simply wonderful as well, and they adore me.” He sighed wistfully. “Anyway, it is quite clear that the Supreme Commander knows nothing about hosting an event, though I suppose it is through no fault of his own. You simply must forgive me for holding all hosts to the same standards I hold myself as host.”

However, this mention of a brother... Alexander was intrigued. “Are you saying that there is a younger you running around, and I have never met him, nor heard much of him? Does he share your good looks and terrible taste in women?” He laughed lightly, patting Finnegan’s arm in jest. “Well, my sweet saffron, I will do my best to limit my flirting, but with a face like yours I can hardly be expected not to flirt at least a little.” He gave him a look, one of those puppy dog faces children make at their parents to get an extra piece of candy.

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L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

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Usually when Alexander made such comments, Finnegan depending on his mood would either press for further flattery or give a backhanded comment about Alexander's poor taste in men. However, this time, Finnegan drew in a breath with his lips slightly parted trying to best determine how to roundabout explain to the poor queer man that his haughty joking was crossing a line that had been invisible thus far into their very relationship, “I would not say he has been ‘running around.’ My brother has had poor health since childhood, and I cannot help but feel your very presence could cause to be some offense to his well-being, unless, of course, you could tone down your flattery and at least, see to it that he is one of the most rare individuals for whom I hold any sort of care for. However, you being one of them ought to show how prevalent my request of you is since my younger brother takes a much more important role in my line of duty than you have ever,” his hand raised, placing it upon Alexander's broad shoulder and breathing in whatever air surrounded them. He was not playing with his words as carelessly as he generally did. This much was very obvious for Alexander.

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A L E X A N D E R

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Alexander’s brows shot up, blue-grey eyes wide. Why on earth was Finnegan so upset by his teasing? However, the craftsman recomposed his features to an expression more suited to his typical demeanor before allowing it to change with his words. “Why, Finnegan, you make me sound like a monster,” he said, keeping his voice down. “I should hope that you know me better than you seem to think. You make it sound as though you wish me to be cold, unfriendly, and unfeeling to your brother, and I simply cannot do that! Surely you must know that. I will only be polite, friendly, and very much so myself, even with your brother whom you seem to paint a very unflattering portrait of, but I have already agreed to...muffle, per se, my...flamboyance and flirtation. There is nothing more that you could ask of me. I will determine his constitution and from there determine just how much flirting he can take. You speak as if you think him too weak to even take one harmless compliment from my lips. My dear foxglove, while I admire your care and dedication to your brother’s wellbeing, I simply must remind you that he is his own person, too, and must grow a skin of his own. He cannot rely on yours all the time.” Alexander gave him a look. “Besides, he is most likely much stronger than you think, if you only give him the opportunity to express and implement it.” His words were decidedly harsher than usual, but so had been Finnegan’s, thus the adjustment was necessary. “I shall treat him more cautiously than I do usually, at your request, but you simply cannot ask me to be anything less than myself. For goodness’ sake, tiger lily, do you expect me to behave like a normal person?!” Alexander laughed at the very thought, the dashingly absurd notion of himself as being considered “normal.”

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L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

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Alexander’s friend made a forcefully benign smile and drew in another whiff. His head motioned with the act, “You smell nervous, Alexy. Good, but nervous,” he toyed lightly with the man’s title for his own effect as Alexander had done with him, “I see I am making a fair point to you, then, and this, too, is good,” his hand continued resting on the taller man’s shoulder. His eyes left the finely sculpted face of Alexander and looked onward, admiring the chandeliers hanging from the library. The gold was intricate enough to be held with astute honor in a cathedral of sorts — of at least by appearance and not size. The glass lighting was finely cleaned despite what had been broken and most likely abused (due to neglect) and lying outside the long journey leading to the library’s entrance, “And, why Alexy, my good boy,” his eyes darted away from the light fixture and to Alexander, again, piercing through all the fabricated pompous gaunt that he wore like a man with no conscience, “You would smell absolutely wretched if you acted as anyone but yourself. Be normal, by all means, and dare I say you have insulted me, now? No, no. I am not a dandy. I have too much wit for that. However, my brother, he is much different than I am, even if we do look very similar. Hair and other subtleties, aside, which is why I am forewarning you in such a manner. The family has almost lost him on numerous occasions, and I am afraid your shenanigans could ruin his faint of heart. If anything were to happen to him, I could never forgive you.

“Although, I thought to leave the last bit out and simply not warn you of any ill intentions I would take against you if anything was because of you, but I cherish our friendship enough to at least give you some time to ponder your own capabilities and restraints as a human being.” His hand slid from the dark fabric, and he raised his eyebrows, seemingly wanting to change the subject. His thumb pressed against his middle finger and then his ring finger, stretching them as he glanced back to Mademoiselle Evelyn and Lady Alyssana. It appeared Lady Charlotte Vernell and what appeared to be a child had joined them. His conversation with Alexander caught his attention, again, though, as he waited for the man’s reply.

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A L E X A N D E R

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Alexander nodded slowly at all the right moments. In the end, he simply said, “I see… Well thank you, then, my friend, for this warning so I did not have to go into the encounter completely unaware of any adverse reactions you or your esteemed brother may have to my…otherwise unfiltered self.”

He sensed Finnegan’s discomfort, but did not wish to leave the subject of this mysterious brother. “What is your brother like?” he asked innocently. “What is his gift? Does he have a nose like yours, or is he extraordinarily genius, or does he simply manipulate metal as I do? What guild has he sought membership of, if he’s even old enough for such an ambition? For that matter, how much your junior is he, this…Walter was his name, yes? Did he go to the astute Institute as we did, or did his health not allow such an ambition?”

Alexander paused, resting his hand on Finnegan’s arm. “You must forgive me, my dear foxglove, but I cannot help be curious. Between having no family of my own and only just now hearing mention of this brother of yours, one you seem to hold in such high regard even if you think him a tad fragile, I cannot help but desire to gather more information from your lips on him, on such an intriguing matter. I hate to walk into a situation knowing absolutely nothing or worse—all the wrong information—and I do not wish to use what I am more discreetly known for in the darker circles in order to gain such information, especially not on such a dear friend. I promised it to Rowena, and I shall promise it to you as well, that I shall not go spying or prying into your lives unless I deem it absolutely necessary, as in your lives are or my own life is at great risk of injury or ending, and even then I shall hesitate greatly before pursuing such a course of action.”

Alexander gave Finnegan a look, one where soon his lips curled into a smile. “Now please…do enlighten me about your brother. I do not wish to know everything just yet, but I do not wish to walk in knowing absolutely nothing, either.”

---

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L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

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“Understandable,” the man quickly replied, taking in what was said quite quickly, “But, yes — Walter, yes. I wish his talent lie in bed with mine, but it does not,” Finnegan began, “His is Mathematics," Finnegan began. He was obviously a man who had an acute sense with such numeric equations, but his brother was by far better in this field of study. It was obviously not in Finnegan’s interest to illicit any jealousy, however. “He has an uncanny knack for numbers,” he let out a soft sigh, “I fear it ruins him a bit,” his eyes looked downward, and off-offhandedly he elongated his comment, “Just a bit,” and again, his blue eyes were upon the man in front of him. “But, no, he never went to the Institute. As I have already stated, he has been sick for most of his life, and thus, he has had private tutors provide him with his what he knows and understands of the subjects. They were fine tutors. Do not be misinformed. Some of which were friends or colleagues of my professors.”

Alexander’s friend turned his face to glance at the large, pale hand that held his arm. He appeared to be studying the skin complexion or even taking in the scent, “So yes, he is extraordinarily genius like I am,” his smile twisted more concretely and playfully, wondering where Alexander could have ever gotten the idea he would get away with such a stupid comment, “And, he shall be part of the Scholar Guild, as his older brother is,” Finnegan’s face turned back to Alexander. Hiding behind his mouth seemed to be a mouthful of information he was chewing and adamantly measuring how to spit it out during the course of the next several immediate moments, “Your friendship is highly valued and appreciated. I would never want to harm you without thinking at least twice about it, you know. Of course, you do. Just look at you,” the man made a small chauvinistic jest of a scoff, moving his arm slightly.

“My brother is much different than me in personality, but that changes nothing between us, nothing really....” he trailed off, “Alexy, really. I am sure you will be fine, but I am always willing to be more than overly cautious with Walter. He is after all, my younger brother,” he drew in a breath of some relaxation, having gotten that course of action unburdened from his chest, “Now, this dance is quite the masquerade. I would not say that a birthday party is the best of hats to wear in disguise, but I assume you know something about it? You are after all, more in The Know than a silly perfumer who hardly has time to run his own shop since he is far too busy chasing and removing skirts from all the beautiful women that dare cross his path,” he shook his head lightly, sternly mocking his own rumors of himself, “I wonder how it feels for young Olivia to be the centerpiece of a such a show. She seemed too sad when I kissed her hand, like a withering violet, “his mind wandered slyly and gaily, “If Evelyn were not here, I would have tried to change that. The poor thing.” His head shook back-and-forth gently, again, disagreeing outwardly of his naughty imaginings.

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A L E X A N D E R

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He raised his brows. There was no jealousy in Finnegan’s tone. He was proud of his brother, though he also seemed slightly disappointed in his...more social shortcomings from such a gift. This Walter seemed a good man, if a bit shy and reclusive in ways. Alexander blushed a bit and looked down slightly at the remark about his appearance. Finnegan returned to Walter and Alexander nodded while frowning reassuringly. “Oh but of course,” he fed, “he is your younger brother after all.”

The conversation switched back to the party and Alexander couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “My dearest tiger lily, you are positively the worst tonight,” he teased. “This is not the greatest of masquerades. A proper masquerade is not limited to just a fanciful mask, but an elaborate costume. You become a character for the evening.” He looked at Finnegan, brows narrowed. “I can’t believe you have not yet been to one of mine. You would absolutely love it. I’m quite positive of it.” He sighed. “But I’m afraid I am as clueless as you are to our summons. I did not even know my darling moonlace Rowena would be in attendance.”

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L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

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A small mockery of a sheepish laugh escaped Finnegan as he listened to Alexander boast and lecture him. It dwelled in his throat more so then his mouth, “Ah, I am uncertain as to why you have never invited me, but some questions are better left unanswered.” His head turned towards Lady Rowena, her scent was darling, as Alexander described her appearance. She was wearing something loud and proud but elegant and sleek all the same. She looked absolutely stunning in her daringly revealing dress. Evelyn also had a low-neck line style, but none of the attention would draw away from her mask or jawline. However, in Lady Rowena’s case, she had a much different and more exotic beauty to her, “Another one of those questions would be, ‘How am I ever to escape Lady Rowena’s presence if she is invited to all the same events to which I am invited?’ She smells annoyed, more than usual. What a shame. She probably knows more than we do... And, I would not mind asking her — to dance. I am certain she would brighten the ballroom floor quite easily. That is her true gift, if anyone wanted my opinion on the matter.”

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A L E X A N D E R

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Alexander raised his brows. Escape his darling Rowena? “Finnegan my dearest, you cannot possibly be suggesting I not invite my very best friend just so you can attend an event where she is not to be present. I simply could not do that to her. She would never forgive me. I would sooner end up like one of her fiancé’s than not.” He shook his head. “You would have to make a friend of one of her enemies, or otherwise secure an invitation to an event the Ministers have not been invited to if that is what you truly wish.”

The mustache-less blond sighed. “I do not understand how you two are not friends. You are so similar.” He shook his head. “Though I must respectfully request that you leave the first dance to me, my dear sunflower. I already proposed the idea to her earlier, and, well, surely you have seem the way the two of us dance.” He gave Finnegan a smile, patting his arm. We are practically in-synch.”

Alexander sighed wistfully. “Though it is unfortunate I cannot dance with a member of my preferred sex. Nor do I think there is a man here who is interested in other men that I have not already spent time with, and they were all exceptionally rubbish.” He shook his head. “At least tonight you can go to a warmer bed than mine. If, of course, that is not too bold to say.”

He looked around. “Perhaps you could assist me in finding a suitable partner for the evening? I refuse to make waste of an evening such as this when surely there must be someone here I can acquaint myself with.” He paused. “Unless of course your brother is to attend this evening, in which case I could always entertain him.” Alexander raised a hand. “Differently from how I entertain other men, of course my dear forsythia.” He frowned. “Though I suppose if your brother were to be in attendance with you this evening, he likely would already be here, unless of course you avoided the awkwardness of sharing the transport with both family and…er well…friend.”

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L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

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“No, my brother shan’t be attending tonight. He has other things he needs to attend,” a bright smile dashed over Finnegan’s lips as he ran through the selection of cliched responses he could make next in line in further response to Alexander’s wit. Having gotten the news of his brother out of the way, he was not above mentioning his mind being quite enthralled with Lady Rowena. However, he had no such interest of courting her in all serious manner, as was usual with him. He would match rather spend time trying to fluff the skirts that Lady Alyssana rarely fancied over herself. Although, he had Mademoiselle Evelyn tonight, and why — he looked over judging her innocent character, she looked quite insecure and faint. It would be a shame if he did not come rescue her, now, seeing that she was left standing away from the very woman he had just been fancying in his mind, “And here, I thought you knew when I was joking, Alexy,” he let a jovial stout of air press from him, “It makes sense now that I have been replaced by the Minister of Merchant Guild’s niece,” his shoulders relaxed after making the comment. “I must say though, a good dance would put us in better step, do you not say?”

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A L E X A N D E R

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“My mustachioed blond, you must know that Rowena and I are far closer than you and I. I could not consider hosting an event where neither of you are invited. The fact that you have yet to attend one of my events merely means you have declined the invitations, or there has been some error in the delivery system.” He frowned. “Either that, or I did not invite you because I did not know you could at all be friendly with the lady, seeing as your interactions around me border on politely hostile!” He shook his head. “Nonetheless, you can expect an invitation next time. I will hand-deliver it to your shop myself.”

He paused, then allowed a teasing smirk to coat his lips and a mischievous air settled upon his brows. “Perhaps I should host something sooner rather than later, all to better meet this mysterious brother of yours.”

Alexander nodded slowly at the talk of dance. It was as good a dismissal as any. “Well then,” he suggested, “why don’t we gather our partners for a dance? Put something respectable on the floor.” He noticed, however, that Rowena’s attention was diverted to…well, in fact, she was nowhere to be seen. Interesting…playing hide and seek are we, moonlace? Still, Alexander gave his friend a polite smile. “You should go to your guest. I am sure Lady Evelyn is missing her dear Finny.” He released Finnegan’s arm and bowed slightly. “You know where to find me.” He started to walk away. “Follow the hair…or perhaps in your case, the scent.” And with that, he walked away.

[bloonewb]

(Huge collab with @ayzrules . Thank you!)

R O W E N A & E L O D I E

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Rowena smiled warmly at the other woman. “I am glad to hear it. And my uncle? Oh, he’s doing splendidly, my dear. Simply splendid.” Rowena could only imagine that Elodie and her father were not too keen on, well, the Merchant Guild-especially one led by a man such as her uncle. But alas, it would be impolite to speak of such things at such an event, and horribly improper, too.

At the concern Elodie raised on the “good company”, Rowena gave her a serene smile. “I would not worry overmuch, my dear. Captain Kingsford would not have invited these individuals if she did not have faith in them.” And I would not have allowed her to invite them if there was something...off. Though I must say, I do not understand why she decided on Lord Oaks. He is quite the opposite of ‘good company’.

Rowena lifted an eyebrow, slightly, at Elodie’s next question. “Well,” she began, carefully, “the garden will be rather large, I imagine. Though I do not think too many people will be needed to tend to it; having a select group of individuals should be more than adequate. As for soil quality, well, I believe we shall be encountering a rather enigmatic kind of soil.” Rowena leaned in and lowered her voice, a hint of mischief in her smile (which was not to say that she did not think this matter was of the utmost importance, no; it was merely for the sake of maintaining appearances). “Some would say that it is a soil unconducive to plant growth. Perhaps. Others may label it as...dangerous. Perhaps. But you see, Lady LaVerre, we are not interested in testing its properties, per se, but simply investigating it. As others have been doing, recently.”

“Hmmm . . . I understand completely,” Elodie said. The countryside was a little behind on current events, yes, but it didn’t take a genius to deduce the plans of the ambitious Triarchy. No doubt they have eyes on the greatest prize in the continent, Hourglass City itself, and worse yet, its surrounding territories. “Let us cut short with the formalities. No doubt were anyone to be listening, they would already have figured exactly what we are talking about. We know what the problem is, what is your plan to be rid of it?”

Elodie didn’t like this, not one bit. The Triarchy is never and has never been friends with the City of Desire, as Hourglass City has come to be known, and the slightest hint of aggression on either side would spark a war that may span the entire continent. When this comes, Hourglass City will find itself, as it has always found itself, a little short on allies. For her to enter the den of beasts . . . this plan had better be good.

Rowena could sense that Elodie was speaking of the Minefield Triarchy when she mentioned “the problem”. How...inconvenient. I should hope that we do not have to deal with the Triarchy in the course of this investigation. Indeed, not only was anything to do with foreign lands a huge hassle, but people were always overly sensitive when it came to the matter of the Imperia-Airwrights and the Triarchy. Yes, it was true that her uncle had ties-he’d married the daughter of one of the Triarchy Barons, after all-but Rowena knew that he had no real love for the powerful Barons and Baronesses; it was simply that allying with them was, well, profitable. Or it had been, in the past.

Rowena gave Elodie a mischievous look. “The plan, Lady LaVerre?” She paused delicately, as if she were contemplating said plan. “Well. The only reason that you and I and everyone else in this room are here today is because the honorable Supreme Commander has, mm, how to say this? He has no plan.”

She smiled sweetly. “I would not worry about it too much, though. Captain Kingsford is competent enough to formulate the basis of one, and that she has done. As for the rest, my dear…” Rowena trailed off and shrugged, nonchalantly. “We will see, when the time comes. Of course, if you have any suggestions, the good captain is always willing to hear them.”

No plan!? This was hardly ideal. Elodie’s eyes shot to the captain, hoping with all her heart that she was not as nervous as she looked. The rest of the guests chatted as casual as you please, either not aware that the fate of the city rested upon them or not caring. The city was doomed, wasn’t it? No, those thoughts wouldn’t do. “Surely, something must be done about that then. Ought we speak to Captain Kingsford about this? Perhaps the other guests?” Perhaps the nervousness was contagious, for Elodie could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

Rowena patted Elodie’s hand reassuringly. “Oh, it’s not no plan, per se. But the venerable Supreme Commander didn’t have a very...mm, forgive me for being forward, Lady LaVerre, but he didn’t have a very good plan. Which is where we come in.” Rowena winked playfully.

She was well-aware of the fact that gossiping about the Supreme Commander in this way was not very polite, especially at a ball in his home, but, well, Supreme Commander Osborne was, quite frankly, a pain in the neck. So Rowena held no qualms about doing such a thing.

She wondered, briefly, how Adrianna had gotten him to agree to this. It was well-known among select circles that Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne was not particularly found of the Polytechnique Institute, and by extension, Madame Geraldine’s. His estranged brother taught at the Institute, and he did not trust Lady Kat from finishing school (she was the daughter of a Triarchy Baron, after all. And somehow related to Rowena’s aunt). That was how Rowena knew the Supreme Commander had no plan (or, at least, not a very good one)-there was simply no other way he would have entrusted such a task to graduates of either academy.

Rowena smiled winsomely at Elodie. “Trust me, my dear Lady LaVerre, there is no need to worry. The honorable captain has been making the necessary arrangements and preparations in anticipation for these circumstances. Though I’m sure she will have some questions for you in the near future, but for now, try to enjoy the night, do.”

Elodie nodded, slowly. If the Lady Rowena says it to be true, then it is. People continued to mill about, always entering the library but never leaving. Too many people, too many variables. She didn’t like this. Didn’t like this being kept in the dark, or the too-attentive ears, or the copious danger. She inhaled deeply, and let the air sift through her lips. Perhaps she ought socialize, get to know her cooperators a bit. “Very well, then. Shall we?”

She was about to approach the crowd when who else chose to burst in, dragging her pile of muck along with her. “Oh, joy . . .” Elodie muttered. If the honourable captain had a plan, it was gone now, clogged in its most precious places by a monkey wrench going by the name of Bird. Simple concepts like “mannerly conduct” and “divine privilege” were concepts the wretch never seemed to internalize. “Not her, please, anybody but her . . .”

Rowena arched an eyebrow at Elodie’s surprising change of...attitude. She followed Elodie’s gaze to Mr. and Mrs. Lockheart. Oh? Rowena cast a discreet glance at Lady LaVerre, gently opening her own mind a little bit.

Hmm. Not too fond of the commonborn, is she?

“Is there something amiss, Lady LaVerre?” Rowena asked, pleasantly enough. She tilted her head to the side, feigning confusion. “Pardon me for being forward, my dear, but you seem to be more distraught than usual.”

“It’s a small matter of only personal importance,” Elodie said, glaring at the couple. “You needn’t concern yourself with it. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” She turned her nose up and left Rowena to her own devices. This was her matter to settle.

[Briza]

L o r d F i n n e g a n O a k 𝓼

“Yes,” Finnegan whisked away from Alexander with a small bright laugh at the man's banal joke, feeling as if he had somehow or another accomplished more than he had originally thought to accomplish, and without even a blush, he slipped back into his demeanor — the one that he would normally resume when conversing and courting a woman such as Evelyn in such an environment. The notable features placed on his face were that he had just made good conversation with his friend, which he had, but he was much too interested in Evelyn to have stepped away for too long, which was almost a half-truth. As eloquent of a man that Alexander Damien Amidale could be, Finnegan could not in all his flamboyant likeness deny the innocent Evelyn in her simple, classic ballgown, and lavender was a very good color for her to wear.

Walking past the party that smelled to be headed by Lady Alyssana, the woman who was supposed to have been attentive towards his guest, Finnegan made a small acknowledgement of thought, but his disposition did not change. He barely noticed the two dolls outside of recognizing the young pink haired woman, only because his brother, Walter, was so fond of her work, and the dolls seemed to gravitate around her like an extra layer of clothing. He had small business to make with her in regards to his brother's new employment and recent move. He knew little about her aside from what he knew for his brother and her being pretty, quaint, and peculiar — as all women should be if they wanted to hold some sort of interest in a gentleman's mind. However, he had no entrance that could gaily make himself more reserved for Evelyn than he had at this current moment, “Dearest Mademoiselle Ashton,” his voice came and stood beside Evelyn and rested a head or so taller than her. The perfume in her hair was making him think perhaps she may start intoxicating the people around her, “Pardon my leave.”

He was looking down at her as he did when he was giving a false interest in her, deciding what he would most like to do with her if they were not in a crowding library. The young lady clasped her lips tightly into a smile, surprised to see him all of a sudden, as she felt relief for his return and the shyness of her awkwardness towards Lottie, who stole her attention from Finnegan as she was reminded from an oddly forgetful state that she had only seconds ago hesitantly made a compliment towards the tedium of her presence. Her pastel lips parted to make sense of something or explain what was happening, but Finnegan made his own effort to keep her voice to himself.

“Lady Charlotte Vernell. Beautiful as ever,” his head tucked as Lottie gleefully outstretched her arm with a stiff, bent wrist. The gentleman cupped it into his palm and pressed his own lips against the top of her hand. Lottie and Finnegan were hardly acquaintances, but he knew enough to see her as something worth complimenting and making small suggestions with, “This is my darling Mademoiselle Evelyn Ashton, with whom I see you have already made acquaintance,” his eyes glanced at Evelyn and then landed on Lottie, again, sizing up the coordination of her fashion. After this split second gesture, he proceeded to compliment Evelyn and entertain Lottie about how they met and what a lovely creature she was to him and everyone around her. He also made a small comment on the library's extraordinary extravagance before he and his guest took their leave to the ballroom for a dance. It was something to awaken the young lady as he found her presence becoming much too dull and retired for his boyish pageantry.

The couple exited the library by making their bows to the Captain. The long walk through the foyer was just as long as ever, extending the length of the night into something that was making Finnegan feel more as a babysitter than a suitor. He should not complain though, he reminded himself as slight echoes of footsteps padded on the flooring. She was merely a puppet — or a doll, if that was the language being sought after, for him to have by his side while he enjoyed to the fullest extent of the luxury and passions and poisons of which he just could never-ever seem to get enough, especially in a place that had lackluster care, “This evening has been so lovely, Finnegan,” Evelyn chimed at him. He only agreed for several reasons, and for other reasons, he disagreed. One of those reasons was because her voice sounded rested and weary in more ways than it should. She appeared quite too malleable at this point. However, the pinch of a smile was still worn on her cheeks, and to Finnegan, this was the most important part of a woman's appearance at an event like this.

“As you have been, as well,” he nestled the compliment as if to want her to believe that she was silly for thinking to take away her own accomplishment's of the night away from her, like a good, modest woman of her own kind was raised to do, “Without your presence, I believe only the books would be of interest to me at this point. Perhaps, I would have taken a seat next to the Captain Adrianna Kingsford,” he mused, imagining her enthusiasm of the party. “Even then, I may have asked her to dance, and then what? If we had a dance, she is not you. I fail to understand any enjoyment dancing with her when comparing a dance with you.”

The woman blushed behind her mask at his words and was able to speak a bashful, thank you to him, not seeing past his dishonest trickery of intellect and naturally rehearsed lines. Finnegan had no real qualms about what he was doing. His aim was to make a constant source of enjoyment of society for himself, and what harm could it be if he shared some sort of light of this enjoyment with others? None, he believed, to see their beautiful smiles brighten the world around them when he spoon fed them lies that they all wanted to hear. Besides, eventually another bloke would come and give them in all honesty the exact same opinion he read from a script in his own mind and actually mean it. For such a reason, he was but merely a small piece of a large sum in their lives and them nearly the same thing in his as well. It all smelled as fair game, and as Evelyn could not quit her lips from from imploring, ‘lovely’ in the most misconstrued manner.

“Yes,”
Finnegan believed:
“I am doing this out of love.”

[MorningStar1399]

VISUALS

her gown

left: her mask’s base, but with some gold detailing; right: the way the decorative lace bit above and around the left eye is actually appearing (not quite like the one on the left); basically combine these two masks to get her actual mask

EUDORA

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“Maxwell Chandler, we are going to be very late!”

“Well, darling, next time tell the factory foremen that! I have been in meetings—“

“Darling, look at my face,” a quite exasperated Eudora said, taking her husband’s face in her hands. “Does it look like I care about the meetings right now?”

“Well, no, but—“

“Ah-ah!” Eudora held up a finger. “Just a yes or no.”

Maxwell sighed. “No, right now you want to get to the Supreme Commander’s and make a glorious entrance.”

Eudora gave him an impressive grin. “That is exactly right, my love. Though the word is ‘grand’. I’d like to make a ‘grand’ entrance. But I don’t want that entrance to be grand because I arrived so very late!”

Maxwell gave her a smile. “My dearest Euramay,” he started as he set his hands on top of hers, moving them gently from his face as he continued to hold them. “You will not be terribly late, your entrance will be exactly as you want it, and I promise you I will make it up to you tonight.”

Eudora blushed, looking down. “Oh Max…”

Maxwell chuckled and placed a kiss on her nose. “Now, are you quite finished getting ready, or do I have time to adjust a few things?”

Eudora gave him a smile. “You may have fifteen minutes while I finish powdering my face and fixing my mask.”

The couple arrived at the ball and made their way around greeting old friends and new ones. They greeted the hosts and with a few words Eudora managed to slip away from her husband, promising to meet him again when she was ready to leave. Thus the wife of the Minister of the Craftsman Guild made her way into the library.

My, this room is young, she thought. She bid her welcome to Captain Kingsford, but ultimately felt rather out-of-place. Perhaps I should have declined…? Though the invitation seemed like they needed all of our help for very specific reasons, so it is likely a good thing I accepted. I simply must cope with the fact that I know next to no one here outside a casual acquaintance.

So, Eudora found herself a book to read and sat at a table, setting the novel in front of her while often glancing around the room at those gathered in attendance.

[shylarah]

Alyssana turned to regard the couple that joined her conversation. She gave the man a thin smile for the compliment, one that turned sincere at the mention of his name. Lockheart, that was a name she recognized. “Lady Alyssana Grey, and likewise charmed. If what I’ve heard of you is accurate, it’s a shame I couldn’t convince my brother Christopher to come tonight. I think you would have gotten on well -- he’s the craftsman responsible for these.” She touched her mask and ruffled the feathers of her wings slightly.

“I’m not sure what you have heard, but I hope it was all good,” Chester responded. Elizabeth barely paid attention to the response, she was already eyeballing the visible mechanisms, her mind already working on how the visible worked with what might be hidden within the wings. Unfortunately it seemed that most of the gears were tucked away out of sight.

“Oh yes. What’s the phrase you two have, ‘We outlast those who endure’? I’ve heard you do good work.” Alyssana paused at the sound of yet another guest heading in their direction, and turned to face the woman with a raised eyebrow hidden by her mask.

Elodie had to get out of the room. She had to get out of the city. There was no possible space in the world sufficient enough to put between her and . . . Bird. It had to be Bird, and her dirt-farmer of a suitor. A woman stood in her way, her back to Elodie. Wings jutted from her back, wrought from cruel bronze. Elodie had to resist the urge to shorten her trip to the door by a fraction of a second by reaching out and crumpling them in her hands. “Terribly sorry,” she muttered, sidestepping them. “I thought I smelled something off, and thought it best to get some fresh air.”

“Ah, Miss Elodie, I hadn’t noticed you before,” Elizabeth said, she lied of course, telling the noble that she had been overlooked was about one of the best insults she could say without outright insulting her, and they were in public amongst polite company, decorum required otherwise… How long Elizabeth’s decorum would last was another question entirely, however, “I assure you it does smell better over here. Have you met Lady Alyssana Grey?”

“Dame Elodie. I haven’t the honour,” Elodie said, dropping into a low curtsy before the stranger. “Lady Alyssana, I presume? A pleasure it is to make your acquaintance. Are you a friend of Captain Kingsford’s, or did you receive an invitation from the honourable Commander himself?” The formalities, the endless formalities. She knew well enough how important they were. Manners, after all, were what separated the higher-ups from the lower-downs. Yet, in the presence of nobility, Elodie felt trapped. She couldn’t well insult Bird to her face, like they used to in Madame Geraldine’s. They were ladies now, or whatever those two were, and they had to act it.

“I suppose you could say that Captain Kingsford and I are acquainted, yes,” Alyssana replied.

“Yes, we’ve just become acquainted as well,” Chester said, his voice like warm velvet, “We were admiring the workmanship on her mask and wings. You said your brother had made them for you? Beautiful work, absolutely. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Elodie?”

“I was curious,” Elizabeth continued, not giving the rival a chance to respond to Chester’s prompt, “They must be quite heavy, you’ve certainly must have built up the core strength to support them, you move with such grace, Lady Alyssana. I was curious as to just how heavy they were? As you might know from what you’ve heard of us, we specialize in designing mechanism, and also in alloys. I suspect that if we were given access to their design that we might be able to find a way to lighten them in one way or another- Not to diminish your brother’s work. I’m just... that confident in our own work.”

There was a fresh tension in the air between the two other women, and Alyssana didn’t miss it. She wondered briefly how they knew each other. “Lighter than you’d expect from their appearance. I wouldn’t mind arranging a time to let you two look at them -- perhaps when my brother can answer questions you might have. Although he has less interest in wings these days.” She turned her attention to Elodie. “Do you have an interest in machinery as well, Dame Elodie?”

“Machines were never to my taste,” Elodie said. “Steam and smoke are not conducive to the healthy growing of crops, where work is still done the way nature intended.” She kept her hands behind her back, where she could safely squeeze them into fists. Bird was never the mannerly sort. She had little respect for proper conduct, and ideas as simple as remaining silent while her betters spoke have managed to sail over her head. “I was rarely a student of Professor Caraworth’s, and we were never on the best of terms, I’m sorry to say.”

“She was a better engineer than she was a teacher,” Alyssana commented. She’d learned far more from Chris and her Polytech classes than she’d ever managed to pick up from Professor Caraworth. “No offense to her, of course. But she lacked a certain rapport with her students.”

“Professor Caraworth was one of my favorites, actually,” Elizabeth responded curtly, “Craftsmanship is in my blood of course, being a member of the Bird family, so perhaps I had a knack for it, but as she once said to a certain member of our class, ‘You can’t teach those who don’t wish to learn.’ She always was so sweet, to not say you couldn’t teach those who you couldn’t be taught.” Elizabeth glanced quickly at her former classmate. Chester quickly patted her arm, their arms still interlinked, as to remind her to behave. Elizabeth didn’t seem phased by her husband’s gentle attempts to keep her decorum.

“I do not believe that man came from the loins of ape to bang shiny rocks together in the dirt,” Elodie snapped. This was bad, this was very bad. She had already made a fatal mistake the moment she opened her mouth. There was still a chance to fix the situation, to apologize and beg forgiveness. Elodie, however, was beyond asking for forgiveness. She needed on some primal level to smash this upstart back into the ground. Her hand was poised to leap out from her side and strike somebody, anybody across the face in what would inevitably be a killing blow.

“Well I suppose you could stick to tradition, never take part in the advances of science, nor the benefits they provide.” Alyssana spoke mildly, but there was a sharp glitter in the grey eyes behind her mask. There was more she could have said -- did the woman like to think the earth at the center of the universe, perhaps? Would Elodie care to discard animal husbandry, sanitation improvements, even the wheel? But she restrained herself -- better not antagonize a team member too much before they’d even found out why they’d been summoned.

“Oh no,” Elizabeth started, “She’s much too rich to do any actual work herself, or at least her parents were. Tell me, what do you do to deserve your title and assumed wealth? Because for some reason my Husband and I are looked down on for being successful in our business endeavors and for being excellent in our crafts.”

Chester knew it was too late, all he could do at this point was try to keep everyone calm. “Please, let’s all keep this civil now, no need to widen the gap between us, dear. Whatever the cause is that has brought us all together here, we are on the same side. Let us forgive these tense words and move on, if not in conversation, then physically. Please.” Chester gestured to his wife, hoping to appeal to her common sense and divert the conversation from turning to a physical contest.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have recalled my intention to get some fresh air,” Elodie said. If she stayed in this room for a single second longer, her blood would boil out of her pores. She quitted herself from the little group, boots tapping against the wooden flooring. When she reached the door, she grasped at the handle like it were a plank off a sinking ship and flung the door open, stepping through and slamming it behind her. Splinters erupted from where door struck frame, and her fingers left permanent marks on the now-mangled handles.

Standing outside, in the grass of the front lawn, calmed her and allowed her to think. Bird always brought out the worst in her. She ought apologize, to Lady Alyssana and more importantly the Supreme Commander. It was low of her, to have spoken in anger . . . like Bird would have done. Stupid, stupid Elodie, thinking she could handle herself. She rested her head on the scraggly tree growing out like fingers from the dirt, feeling a hundred years old.

“Hmph!” Was Elizabeth’s response as the Dame excused herself, she turned her head away and crossed her arms in front of herself, refusing to look the direction of her former classmates travel. Alyssana watched the woman leave, noting the damage to the door, and considering the strength required for such a feat.

“My apologies, Lady Alyssana,” Chester said in the moments after the door was slammed, “That escalated quickly and was no conversation that should have happened in a public place, let alone in front of strangers nore people of such high regard. As I am sure you have surmised, my wife and the Dame have a tense history with one another. A history that apparently is not in the past but in the now, as it were.”

Chester turned to his wife, “Please, go and fix the door’s workings, this was at least partially your fault.”

“Actually, I’d like to request you leave it until later,” Alyssana interjected. “I think a damaged frame will provide a probable explanation for when the door doesn’t open, and it will keep unwanted additions from joining the conversation I’m sure the captain means to have before too much longer.”

“Yes, of course, if that’s what you want,” Elizabeth responded, unlinking her arm from her husband’s, she turned towards her Husband and said quietly to him, “Let the rich pay for the damages, anyway.”

Chester turned to Lady Alyssana, “We would understand if you chose to take your leave, but I hope we can still look forward to our previously mentioned plans to meet with your brother, Chris was it?”

“Yes, that’s right. I see no reason to deny him the company of those with shared interests. Here, my card.” Alyssana produced the stiff rectangle of crisp paper from some unseen pocket and held it out. “I’ll send a note once I’ve checked his schedule.”

“Ah, excellent,” Chester said with visual relief on his face, he took the card and produced one of his own, offering it to the professor, “We will look forward to that note then.”

“If you’ll excuse us, however, I think I might like some refreshment to wash the taste of our interactions with Miss Elodie from my mouth,“ Elizabeth said with a polite tone that was empty in her words. With a curtsy, she took her Husband by the arm and lead him away from the conversation leaving the winged lady to her own devices.

((collaboration between @bloonewb, @Mr Rage, and myself))

[Stern Algorithm]

"Nobody is dissecting anyone, Arsenio." Alyssana snapped the words out with quiet force, though she gave him a small, apologetic smile immediately after. "No apologies necessary; I understand." She rested her hand briefly on the young man's shoulder before turning to regard the latest arrival.

@shylarah

Reeza smiled politely to Arsenio, noting the youth had taken a defensive posture as she'd revealed his identity. She silently chided herself as she realized not everyone holds the same respect for the living doll she held.

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as Lorelei stood beside them, the false-life doll standing patiently beside the pair. She whispered quietly to Arsenio as she placed her hands in front of herself once again.

"Be calm, sometimes to be like the rest of them, we simply need to belong..." Reeza felt the same as the young creation did most times, yet without the excuse of being a creation.

@RavensMuse

A R S E N I O

---

---

Arsenio smiled up at the two ladies who had offered him reassurance. It hadn't occurred to him until now, but he had been afraid. Now he simply had an optimistic, healthy apprehension, knowing that he had allies. As Reeza and Professor Grey conversed, Arsenio quietly took a seat nearby and decided he should read the book that Alexander had suggested, or at least make a show of it. His eyes occasionally darted up, either to see who else had entered, or to admire Lorelei, Reeza's doll, whose construction was more sophisticated than his own in many regards. What appeared to be a married couple approached, followed by a harsh-looking noblewoman. Arsenio continued to read, though his ears perked up at the argument that followed. As something of a trickster who saw himself above certain human emotions (which was entirely untrue), petty arguments were entertaining to Arsenio. Being perceived as a child, he would never be expected to intervene, nor would he have any authority to do so. Though the letter from Supreme Commander Osborne had failed to mention who exactly had chosen to employ Arsenio's unique talents, Professor Grey had mentioned a female 'Captain Kingsford', and since Arsenio had been the fourth in the room, ruling Alexander out of course, him being a man and all, Arsenio could only surmise that one of the two women in the room when he entered must be their host. Arsenio wondered what the good Captain was waiting for, as the library was getting quite crowded with colorful characters.

[ayzrules]

R O W E N A & A L E X A N D E R

---

---

Rowena watched Elodie stalk off, wondering if it she had anger issues, or something else that would explain her abrupt departure. Adrianna and I will have to address that, she thought to herself. She would have frowned if she were the type to let such an emotion show on her face. Instead, she smoothed over her expression into one of pleasant curiosity, waiting a few minutes before venturing out from behind the shelves.

Rowena cast a quick glance around the room. Most everyone had arrived already; the only newcomer she was able to pick out was Lady Reeza Valarios with her pink hair. Goodness gracious. How, and why, is that atrocious hairstyle in existence. Rowena let out a quiet huff. If it had been up to me, I would have chosen individuals with more sense than that. But of course, Adrianna has never been particularly good at identifying people with a good sense of style. So there is that.

Rowena had heard about the dollmaker before, yes, though she hadn’t paid her much attention in the past. She had more important things to worry about, such as who she was going to kill next in her uncle’s bid for giving people the ends they deserved.

Ut acerbus terminus, Rowena remembered idly, the motto of Madame Geraldine’s Finishing School for Young Ladies of Quality seared into her mind. To the bitter end. She noted, with a slight distaste, that Lord Finnegan Oaks had appeared within her line of sight, undoubtedly flirting plainly with both the woman he had brought to the event and Charlotte Vernell. Charlotte’s face struck Rowena as familiar, somehow. Was she not engaged to the scientist who died? Victor Bennett?

As he strode out of the library with the woman (Evelyn, if his thoughts could be believed), Rowena opened her mind and sent feelers in his direction, ignoring, for the time being, what everyone else was thinking and feeling. At the surface, his thoughts were calm and untroubled (though Rowena found herself resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose at what he was doing with Evelyn), but she probed deeper, slightly. There was an emotion that she couldn’t quit identify...ah, there.

He had been a little off-put, earlier. A little disturbed. Why?

His brother. Walter, is it? Alexander asked about him? How...intriguing.

Rowena retreated, re-focusing her attention on the people in the room around her. She managed to pick out Alexander, alone, and gracefully made her way over to him. “Alexander,” she said by way of greeting, a (rare) sincere smile falling across her lips. “I do apologize for not finding you sooner, my dear. Though I must say, I do very much love the ensemble you have chosen for this occasion.” Rowena eyed the intricate gold embroidery appreciatively.

---

Alexander knew that, between his hair, his style, and the slight heel that added to his already respectable height, he would he relatively easy to find. He wandered the library a bit, looking for something to lift his suddenly dampened spirits, but turned when he heard a familiar voice. A smile spread across his lips. “Rowena my dear, I was just mentioning you to Finnegan.” He laughed lightly. “Why thank you, my dear. I believe I have already paid you compliments, but if I have not, you look stunning as per usual, though perhaps more so tonight give the drabness of the environment.” His smile adjusted slightly.

“You disappeared from view, moonlace, else I would have found you again after dear Finny left to be by his partner’s side once more.” He exhaled long, slow, and audibly. “Perhaps a dance is in order, or do we not think it a good idea given our requests to be present here?”

---

Rowena rolled her eyes playfully when Alexander mentioned Finnegan. “Alexander,” she chided, her voice lightly teasing. “What have I told you about your taste in men? You can do much better than the honorable Lord Oaks, my dear,” Rowena continued, wrinkling her nose at the mere thought of being in Finnegan’s presence.

When Alexander proposed that they dance, Rowena gave him a mischievous smile. “Why of course a dance is in order,” she replied, looping her arm through his. The two of them began to make their way to the entrance of the library, Rowena stopping only to give Adrianna a “I’ll-be-right-back” look.

She paused, however, when she saw a familiar figure striding almost unnoticed through the doorway. “Doctor Halverson,” she greeted warmly, a welcoming smile falling over her lips, although her eyes remained carefully neutral.

The doctor, of course, was as composed as ever. “Lady Imperia-Airwright,” he greeted in return, inclining his head slightly. His gaze shifted to Alexander. Did Rowena detect something more than the polite regard he gave everyone in his expression? Maybe. It was hard to say. “And Alexander. It is a pleasure.”

Rowena assessed what Vincent was wearing. As she’d expected, everything on his person was somber and demure, and just under the height of fashion (which he did intentionally, Rowena knew, though she was sure that it was also a matter of personal taste), and he was as neatly put together as ever.

“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” Rowena answered sweetly, discreetly eyeing Alexander out of the corner of her eye. “Have you been enjoying the ball so far?”

---

He laughed lightly at her chiding, but gladly let her take his arm and started to walk with her from the library. However, when they stopped, Alexander was confused.

Until of course he saw why they had stopped.

For a moment, the shock registered on the blond’s face. His eyes were wide, and his jaw fell slack while holding just enough dignity to keep his mouth closed. However, when the doctor looked his way Alexander swallowed, taking good measure to smile more on the polite side to avoid suspicion.

“Dr. Vincent Halverson, it is a pleasure,” he said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. He glanced at Rowena before looking back at the man before him. Now if this wasn’t a surprise…As per usual the man looked less than what could be said was his best, but he still looked…well, quite nice. Despite not dressing noticeably, he looked good. Though Alexander would be lying if he didn’t wish to see this man dress in a way that would make himself truly look…irresistible.

Rowena, I swear, stay out of my head as promised, Alexander thought as a precaution.

---

Was she just imagining things, or was Alexander slightly less composed than usual? Rowena eyed Vincent curiously. He was a very unassuming man, though skilled at his job. Which was why Rowena had insisted that he try to help Alexander with his condition.

Rowena sensed something akin to surprise in Alexander, though she did not pry any further. At events such as these, Rowena had her mind open slightly, at all times. Not enough to read thoughts, no, but enough to gauge the general emotions of those around her, to an extent. She wasn’t getting anything from Vincent besides a bit of cautious hesitancy and unease. Still, his composure was impeccable. If Rowena had not been a telepath, she might not have picked up on anything at all.

It makes sense, mmm. His family is far from the kind that would be invited to events such as these.

Vincent’s calm voice shook Rowena from her thoughts. “Indeed, Lady Imperia-Airwright,” he answered neutrally. “The ball has been quite...delightful. I do hope that the two of you have been doing well.” He gave a quick, almost imperceptible glance at Alexander when he said this.

---

Alexander gave Vincent a pleasant smile (or at least he hoped it was pleasant; it felt positively terrifying on his face) and nodded. “Quite well, thank you, doctor.” He glanced at Rowena, then back at the man before him.

“I owe the lady a dance, but perhaps afterward a better conversation is in order?” he asked. “Unless of course there is nothing to really discuss, in which case I will have us forget the offer.” He offered another un-Alexander smile—too kind, not at all flirty enough, and his eyes were far too wide—before glancing at Rowena. “Does that suit you, moonlace?”

---

Rowena watched, intrigued, as Alexander spoke to Vincent. There was something that seemed slightly off about the way he was acting. She could not quite put her finger on it, and yet…

She shifted her focus to Vincent as he replied. “Oh, but of course,” he said smoothly, smiling slightly. “I would not want to impose. I do imagine that we will be hearing from the captain regarding our invitations in a short while.”

Rowena nodded. “Indeed.” She turned to Alexander, smiling warmly. “And a dance sounds lovely. Shall we take our leave, then?”

---

Alexander nodded. “We shall.” He adjusted his head to the air of superiority he usually seemed to hold and bowed slightly to Vincent. “Until later, Dr. Halverson. If you’ll excuse us.”

He led Rowena away and prepared to whisk her around the dance floor when the musicians changed their tune to something slower. “Well, that’s a shame. This is clearly meant for individuals of romantic interest to one another, something neither of us shall ever find at our going rate.” He sighed wistfully. “Ah well. Each other will do, I suppose.”

The blond offered his hand, bowing to her before pulling Rowena into his arms and starting to dance.

---

Rowena followed Alexander into the Supreme Commander’s rather unimpressive ballroom. As the two of them began to dance, Rowena thought she caught a glimpse of Finnegan with—Evelyn? Yes, that was her name.

She laughed lightly in agreement at Alexander’s wayward comment. “Indeed. Though I am not entirely certain that our dear Lord Sullivan would be particularly pleased by this...mmm, arrangement.” A mischievous wink. “It is fortunate that he is not present.”

---

He raised his brows. “Sullivan? Is that his name now?” Alexander hummed as if trying to think of an opinion to give. “And here you say I have terrible taste. The men you end up engaged to, my dear…” He chutted, giving her a look before a mischievous smirk appeared on his lips. A chuckle, then no more.

“At least you manage to get them,” he muttered, shaking his head in miniscule motions.

---

Rowena had to chuckle along with Alexander. “Yes, well, the men I end up being engaged to…” Rowena gave a nonchalant shrug. “They are what they are.” Her voice was lightly teasing, and her eyes shone with mirth. However, there was something hard in her expression behind her wry half-smile and twinkling brown eyes.

She did what she did because it was the only thing that would bring any semblance of justice for what those men had done twenty, thirty years in the past. Some would have said that she should let it go. Perhaps. But that had never been in her nature.

A character flaw, I suppose, she mused idly to herself. Though I have never thought of myself as a particularly...moral person. Perhaps that is where Alexander and I are fundamentally different.

Ah, well. At least I have a better taste in gowns than Adrianna.

“Oh, there is no need to be so despondent, my dear,” said Rowena. Another wry half-smile. “I am sure you would not want them, anyway.”

---

He raised his brows. “Well, I would like to have someone, moonlace,” Alexander replied. “At present there is no one, but you and Lord Oaks, and of course Elric and the rest of my staff, and that is a very lonely existence.”

Alexander sighed dramatically. “Though I suppose you are right. Most men of age are rightfully boring these days.” He shook his head. “Absolutely useless.”

---

Rowena nodded in agreement. “You are, of course, absolutely correct,” she said solemnly, though there was an amused smile on her face.

Boring, and useless, and arrogant, and used to getting everything they want, when it comes to women. Violent at the worst, and controlling and possessive at the best. Mmm. One could argue that I have worse taste in men than Alexander, and that is really saying something. He’s infatuated with our insufferable Lord Oaks, for goodness’ sake.

The first man she had been engaged to was slightly older than her-which was the only good thing that Rowena had to say about him. Mr. Henry Lewis was the son of the man who had orchestrated her parents’ execution, and he was the type who found expensive gowns to be…hindrances to certain actions that Rowena preferred not to think about.

His plan, Rowena knew, was to marry her for her inheritance. Once he had claimed that, he would have poisoned her.

Of course, that had never happened—instead, Rowena had coated her lips with a poisonous lip tint and watched the life seep out of him as he sloppily smashed his lips against hers.

The second had been twice her age, and he had no interest in women. No; Rowena had been much too old for his tastes.

She poisoned him too, slowly, with a bit of foxglove in his every meal, and once he was dead and gone she was quickly engaged to another man, who was killed in an unfortunate airship malfunction.

The slow song came to an end, and Rowena raised an eyebrow in Alexander’s direction. “One more dance, my dear? Or shall we rejoin the others?”

Rowena’s thoughts drifted to Robert Sullivan, who had outed her parents and arranged for her aunt’s murder. But his past had caught up to him, and now Rowena and her uncle had him wrapped around their little fingers.

He, too, would die. He was old enough to be her father, and Rowena found it quite a test of willpower to loop her arm through his and to smile prettily as if she were nothing but a decoration at every ball and tea party they went to.

But she knew how it felt to want to kill a man, and wait. She knew. And she could endure it one more time.

---

Something occurred to him: the only reason Rowena seemed to have worse taste in men than him was because these men were horrible. She didn’t love them in the slightest. The engagements had existed solely for her to dispose of them. But Alexander had the misfortune of being attracted to truly terrible people. Rakes with fair faces, slobs with good bodies, and bores who happened to be fairly exciting in bed. He hated himself for it, but no one in his circles would be much better, so he suffered through it.

After all, he was not meant for love. He often pondered suggesting an engagement between himself and Rowena if they were still unmarried by 35 (or rather, if she was still unmarried by 35), just so they could both have heirs, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. He couldn’t think of having to make the heir with her. It didn’t seem right to even think of the terms for such an act.

But Alexander knew. He just knew a man like him was no good for love and happiness. She deserves better than me as a husband.

Alexander bowed to her as the song finished, offering his arm. “Perhaps we should rejoin the others. You mentioned Captain Kingsford would be speaking to us soon, after all, and as much as I would love another, more lively dance with you, I do not wish to be the reason everyone is held up.”

---

“Oh, but of course, my dear,” Rowena said gamely, smiling as she accepted Alexander’s proffered arm. They began to make their way back to the library.

Rowena glanced imperceptibly in Adrianna’s direction as they entered the room, noting Elodie’s continued absence. Will this be a problem? she thought, raising an eyebrow as she passed by the doorframe. She does seem to be rather...volatile.

Upon entering the library, Rowena’s gaze flitted around the room, going from Lady Valarios with her floating doll to the Lockhearts and Alyssana Grey. She spotted Vincent lingering in the corner, almost unseen, and resisted the urge to glance towards Alexander.

“I should see if Adrianna needs anything,” she murmured, regretfully taking a step back from Alexander. “We must have tea together sometime, though. There is much that I would like to discuss with you.” Rowena’s voice was light and playful, but she knew that Alexander would know what she was speaking of.

“I will see you later, yes?” And with that, Rowena glided away from her friend, making her way through the library to Adrianna.

[buffykdh]

One of the advantages to being rather well-placed on the Twilight Imposter was that news of the more unsavory kind came easily to his mind. At the moment, Roderick had been amusing himself quite liberally with reading all the reports surmising the fate of the enigmatic Fox, given that he’d seemed quiet as of late. The amusement came from his own particular knowledge as to what that shadowy figure was up to currently, and the fact his arrangement with the airship captain had provided him with plenty of time to make the appearances required of his other life, especially seeing as his dearly departed father was no longer able to stand as Lord of the household and his mother, while disapproving of his current way of life behind closed doors, was all too willing to accept him as the rightful heir in public. For some, the duality would be tiring. For Roderick, he was used to it. For him, it was more three dimensional, albeit the third persona was, as mentioned by all those little bits of gossip he’d kept in his attention, rather silent for the time being.

More accurately, he’d just absorbed it into some of his duties for the Imposter. Acquisition took many forms, of course.

However, the summons that had been sent to the manor had still come as rather surprising, moreso as they’d been directed toward him specifically rather than imply the man of the household. It had been simple to request leave from the airship for the night, and just as simple to exchange his normal casual attire for the much more elegant lines of the black tailored suit, a subtle silver brocade pattern artfully woven into the material that echoed the silver in his eyes as well as the silvery ascot he chose to accompany the whole outfit. A simple black domino mask edged in silver completed his look, and he had known he’d cut quite the figure as he’d stepped out of the family carriage to walk into the rather austere estate, waving off the servant who was about to announce his arrival. He knew he was late. There were any number of excuses he could give, had they been asked of him, but he rather supposed those who had requested his attendance weren’t likely to comment. Not outwardly, anyhow, although he had done his service towards the host of the event as well as his daughter before he’d contemplated heading toward the library.

Had the music been any better, he’d have been tempted to charm a lady to dance. He’d noted the presence of a couple who were heading toward the library in question, as well, and slipped in after Rowena and Alexander as silently as his practice allowed, taking up a position leaning against a bookshelf as he awaited whatever had brought them all here.

[ayzrules]

Lottie had been milling about the library, saying hello to people she recognized, when she spotted Reeza Valarios, whom she had known in finishing school. A wide smile broke out over her face as she made her way over to the younger, pink-haired woman. "Reeza!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. "How are you? Goodness, it's been so long. I can't believe you're here!"

She glanced at the floating doll. "Hello there," she said to the doll, curtsying slightly. She was quite accustomed to Reeza's dolls, by now, and she found them to be so very lovely. One could never grow out of dolls.

[MorningStar1399]

V I N C E N T & A L E X A N D E R

---

---

Alexander raised his brows at Rowena, following her former gaze to…ah. “Of course, my dear,” he said, giving her a smile and kissing her hand. “I will see you soon.”

He watched her walk away before making his way over to the corner in which Vincent seemed to be hiding himself in. “Dr. Halverson,” he said. “Skulking in corners, are we?” Alexander turned, facing the rest of the room. “It’s not a bad corner, actually.” He gave him a sideways glance, a smirk playing across his lips. “Leave it to you to find the best hiding place.” A wink.

The blond was careful about keeping his gaze more toward the gathered room, not wanting to ruin Vincent’s hiding just because Alexander himself was easily spotted. “I trust you are in good health?” He laughed lightly.

---

Vincent had spent the requisite amount of time greeting the captain (who was exceedingly polite, he found, if a bit on the quiet side) and taking stock of the other persons gathered in the library. Aside from Alexander and Lady Imperia-Airwright, there were very few people whom he recognized. Most, however, seemed to be at least a few years younger than he was.

The altercation with a young lady in an elegant blue gown and an utterly inoffensive door frame had not gone unnoticed by Vincent, though he observed that the captain had been otherwise occupied when it occurred. Is our grumpy young lady a member of the Legionnaire Guild? Vincent wondered to himself, idly.

Vincent was still unsure of why Captain Kingsford, and by extension, Lady Imperia-Airwright, had decided to have him directly involved. He was no evil mastermind, nor was he really a genius— and he would have thought that Rowena would have known that he would heal anyone she put in front of him, no questions asked.

Perhaps they wish for me to disclose of anything I would have learned while with Archibald Sullivan, he mused to himself. Though Lady Imperia-Airwright is engaged to his father. Would she not have known what his son was doing by now?

In any case, Vincent supposed that dwelling on this matter for too long would not make it any less bewildering. He watched Alexander and Rowena re-enter the library together; Lady Imperia-Airwright glided off in the direction of Captain Kingsford, while Alexander made his way towards Vincent, who was off to the side, in a corner.

A slight smile flitted across his features as Alexander approached. “Perhaps,” he answered bemusedly, “though skulking is much too…dramatic for my tastes. I prefer, hmm, loitering?”

“I am indeed in good health, thank you. And you?”

---

Alexander laughed lightly. “Yes, perhaps you are right. Though I do believe ‘loitering’ does not carry the same weight nor definition, for I know you are not merely standing here waiting, but observing those around you almost as carefully as I have.” He raised his brows, a semblance of a smile still on his lips. “Is that not the case, geranium?”

He sighed, shifting his hair idly. How long it had been since someone had played with it in even a platonic sense. He hadn’t reason as of late for anyone to style it, as his own fingers were capable of brushing it or putting it up in a simple updo if that was what he desired.

“Better than I have been as of late, thank you, though you are well aware of that,” Alexander replied. “This” — he gestured to his cane — “is again more decoration than actual necessity or use, and I hope it remains as such.”

---

Vincent let a small half-smile form on his lips, his expression carefully neutral. He did not reply to Alexander’s question.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said instead, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement of Alexander’s statement.

Merely a decoration, is it? Hmm. If I’m not mistaken, there is a blade concealed in the end. Although I imagine that Alexander would not be particularly keen on the idea of putting it to use—blood is horribly messy.

Some wistful part of him recalled Stephen’s penchant for cane swords. Though he was always more partial to actual swords, he reflected. And revolvers, and gadgets that could bring the entire Council to its knees, if he’d ever had half a mind to do so.

But such is the case with all graduates of the Institute, I suppose. Well. Most of them. Neither Alexander nor I are particularly inclined to weaponized machinery, I’m afraid.

“If I may ask, Alexander, what do you think Supreme Commander Osborne has summoned us all here for? Pardon my forwardness, but it is surely not for the…food?”

---

Alexander nodded slowly at the question. “The question of the hour,” he stated. “You are not the first to ask. Do I really seem to know everything?”

He paused. “Don’t answer that.” Of course he did. He was Alexander Amidale. Anyone who knew him or knew of him from the Institute would know the rumors of his spy network. Of course he would seem to know everything.

Still, it was in the case of this that he did not in fact have an answer. He hadn’t bothered to pry, or at least hadn’t gotten the information in time to do anything with it or come to any conclusions. “I’m afraid I do not have adequate information, but, given those in attendance…well, it can only be something…indelicate that must be handled with delicate hands. Thus, graduates of both schools are best suited for such tasks. Though Lady Chandler’s appearance here is a bit questionable. It seems more like they’d go for her husband, but he’s too high profile for such an occupation. And yet his wife would seem to be, too, would she not?”

Alexander frowned. “I’m afraid, dear doctor, that I have more questions than answers myself, and yet knowing Rowena’s involvement must extend a bit higher than ours, I can only believe we will be left with the same proportion when we leave.” He gave Vincent a look. “She does, after all, have a way of phrasing things in particularly complex ways and makes you figure it all out for yourself.”

---

There was a faint glimmer of amusement in Vincent’s eyes as he took in Alexander’s words. Something indelicate that must be handled with delicate hands. That is quite exactly how I would have put it.

Alexander’s mention of Rowena, however, made Vincent pause. Though she was always perfectly polite to him, Vincent did not like the idea of trusting her. Especially after the...incident.

Nevertheless, he smiled slightly at his comment. “Indeed,” he answered, though he gave no further comment on Alexander’s rather accurate characterization of Lady Imperia-Airwright.

There had been times, in the past, when he had wondered about the…extent of Rowena and Alexander’s relationship. There were rumors about them, he was sure; the two were frequently seen together, despite the fact that Rowena was engaged to some man or another more often than not, and it was well-known that they were very good friends.

Before he had met Alexander, he had not particularly cared about the rumors. But after seeing Rowena and Alexander interact, Vincent knew that he could conclude that there was nothing romantic whatsoever about...them.

In truth, he suspected that Alexander had no taste for women at all. He did not, however, want to jump to conclusions.

Besides. Why did it matter?

“I suppose you are acquainted with many of the individuals that are present?” Vincent said, arching an eyebrow questioningly. A small smile played on his lips. “We have quite the, ah, variety.”

---

Alexander raised his brows. “Acquainted?” He faked scandalization. “My goodness, Dr. Halverson, are you suggesting I know some of the guests in this room in a more…intimate fashion?” He looked around. “You would be quite wrong, I’m afraid. Everyone in this room is either not interested in me or I am not interested in them. It is truly a pity.”

Still, he sighed. “Still, I do know a…a handful of those in attendance. Of course we both know Rowena, and both she and I know Lord Finnegan Oaks, whom I have just been informed has a younger brother who will be joining us, however his health does not permit him to join us tonight.” He looked around. Oh my, who is that dashing creature? Such silver embellishments, contrasting my gold, and what a mask…I wonder what kind of face lies beneath it.

“I am familiar with the Lady Chandler, we take tea once a month, her children adore me.” He nodded in the direction of a set of metal wings. “Of course Lady Grey, though she prefers Professor, I am told, used to less-than-subtlely attend a handful of my classes while we were at our respective institutions, though it didn’t seem the professors paid much mind. Why, I have no idea. I suppose I am more surprised no other students complained about the obviously female presence in their otherwise all-male school.” He shook his head.

“But are you familiar with anyone here other than myself and our dear moonlace? Intimately or not, of course.”

---

Vincent gave a small, bemused smile. “Oh, no, of course not,” he said neutrally. He listened as Alexander listed the people he knew. Vincent thought that he had maybe heard of Finnegan Oaks before—the perfumist, yes? And Lady Chandler was, of course, the wife of a Minister. He had never interacted with Professor Grey before, although there had been quite a fuss when she was given her position at the Polytechnique Institute.

When Alexander asked if he recognized anybody in the room, Vincent let his gaze flit from Rowena and Captain Kingsford to Professor Grey (the one with the elaborate wings, presumably) and a young woman with pink hair. Beside the pink-haired woman was another young woman, who was wearing a gown as pink as her companion’s hair.

“I am acquainted with Charlotte Vernell,” said Vincent, finally. “Her brothers and I had classes together in school, and my parents are quite fond of their teahouse. But I do not know anybody else, I am afraid.”

---

Alexander turned slightly to look at Vincent. “Don’t be afraid. You know me.” He gave him a smile, a bit warmer than his usual smiles. “No one here will do anything to you so long as I’m here. You have my word.”

He turned his head. “Not even Rowena would give you that.”

Admittedly, Alexander wasn’t sure just how many people Rowena would turn on if they were suddenly…well, no longer on her side. Traitors. Villains. Even if only to her. He wasn’t even sure just how much she really cared for him, at her heart. But loneliness made for too close a companion, and thus he stayed friends with her, if only to say he had one.

Likewise his friendship with Finnegan was hardly the most positive. The perfumist was practically a manipulative rake for God’s sake! How often had Finnegan manipulated him in some way? Usually only small ones, ways Alexander was happy to oblige in, but what happened when the day came where Alexander couldn’t oblige, or it was in a way that made him uncomfortable?

His smile faded. “At least you seem to surround yourself in better company than I do.”

---

Alexander’s next words were unusually somber, especially given his otherwise frivolous demeanor. Nevertheless, Vincent duly pretended that he had not noticed the shift, nodding along obligingly. He wondered how much of his own past Alexander knew; they didn’t call him the best source of gossip in Hourglass City for nothing, of course.

Yes. Better company. If you count a lover who was better at killing than at loving and a scientist with intentions that were not exactly...pure.

It was obviously a rather delicate subject for Alexander, so Vincent decided to steer their conversation in a different direction. “I wonder when we will find out what is going on, exactly,” he mused out loud, shifting his gaze to where Captain Kingsford was standing.

---

If Alexander was grateful for the shift in tone (and he was), he didn’t show it, merely resuming his otherwise casual decorum. “Yes, I wonder indeed. Rowena mentioned it would be soon, I do believe, but ‘soon’ seemed some time ago.”

He adjusted his stance and resumed studying the room, almost wishing he were closer to Vincent, and not just in a physical way…

[RavensMuse]

Reeza smiled to Lottie as she curtly bowed her head.

"Thank you, it is a pleasure to see you as well. I have been busy in my new shop, admittedly I was a little shocked to hear the Captain had need of my skills." Reeza pondered for a moment before realizing the more appropriate response. "Quite possibly, the good captain is looking for my dolls in place of myself."

Reeza felt her shoulders relax a little as Lottie's attention was diverted to Lorelei. She felt herself smile beneath the porcelain mask at the attention for her prized invention. "Thank you," she beamed, "remember the core I was perfecting at the Academy?" Gesturing to Lorelei as she stepped back, her voice taking on a more formal tone. "I finished it!"

As she carefully adjusted her pose, and mannerisms she turned to Lorelei. "Lorelei, control art restriction. Release!" The doll looked at her mistress for a moment before a deep clockwork humm emitted from within the dolls chest, several seams within the dolls dress began to glow a soft blue. The eyes of Lorelei followed suit, the eyes going from the glassy gaze to a bright blue. Turning towards Lottie, Reeza grinned. "The core is what can be considered a separate power source from what powers my dolls. Allowing her access to additional functions." As Lorelei completed the secondary core activation, Reeza looked towards the mechanical doll. "Level 5, release!"

The doll nodded, a pair of simple daggers slid from folds within the dolls dress. As she continued to explain the function of the core system, "Lorelei can sustain combat for approximately thirty minutes before the core exhausts itself. There are additional levels that grant the Lorelei the ability to draw more energy from the core, but at the cost of time she can sustain the activation time." Reeza cleared her voice once last time to issue a new command. "Control art restriction, seal!" Lorelei nodded, a visible thrumming within the dolls chest began to shudder, before going quiet.

Reeza bowed to Lorelei as she looked back to Lottie. "She is my prized doll, with her at my side...I feel complete."

[ayzrules]

_{The Supreme Commander's exquisite library}
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

𝓣he festivities had been going on for quite some time when Captain Kingsford decided that it was time.

𝓣he musicians struck up a particularly lively tune in the ballroom. Meanwhile, the captain strode towards a secluded corner near the stairs, while Lady Imperia-Airwright made her way to the door in a similar fashion, examining the door frame-damaged by the ever-so-lovely Lady LaVerre, she knew-before she deliberately pushed the beautifully polished mahogany door shut, jamming it against the warped area of the door frame. She tested it once, twice. It held.

𝓟rofessor Grey had rounded up the rest of the stragglers. As far as Adrianna knew, Rowena had not disclosed a single word of their plans to the professor, but Adrianna knew that Alyssana was most definitely perceptive enough to take notice. In any case, Adrianna gave her a slight nod of thanks. It was only polite, after all.

𝓣he captain glanced at Rowena, who was standing, as poised as ever, near the back of the assembled group. Adrianna knew that she was keeping an eye on the door, both with her eyes and with her mind, as agreed upon in advance. Unless there was a perpetrator in the form of an automaton or mechanical doll (as in Arsenio's case), nobody would be able to enter the room undetected. Adrianna was, all at once, immensely grateful for Rowena's ability. Of course, it could be quite irritating at times, but it certainly had its uses. At any rate, the captain preferred it to be used at her behest, rather than against her.

𝓞nce a hush had fallen over the room, Captain Kingsford cleared her throat slightly and began to speak. "First of all," she said, her voice calm, cool, collected, "I would like to say that I am extremely grateful for your continued interest in this...matter."

𝓐drianna resisted the urge to glance at Lady Imperia-Airwright. Words had always come far more easily to her friend than to the captain herself.

𝓒aptain Kingsford knew how Rowena would have gone about this; she would have talked in riddles, all vague insinuations and enigmatic looks, leaving the other party to figure out the details for themselves, partly because that was just her nature, and partly because she was very, very careful. Adrianna, however, trusted that the lady was paying the door her due vigilance, and cut straight to the point. She had neither the time nor the patience to bandy about words all day, the way that Rowena did.

"𝓣he reason you are all here today is because the Council has ordered the arrest of a certain alumnus of the Polytechnique Institute. Some of you may be familiar with the individual in question. He has been charged with illegal and unethical experimentation. Which, as you must know, is not unusual among the graduates of the esteemed Institute. Nothing, I believe, is illegal unless you are caught. Is that not how the honorable Headmaster operates?"

𝓐drianna let her steady brown gaze flit over the assembled persons briefly before continuing. "This particular scientist's experiments involved Myalo and automation. I have been told that he was on the brink of success when the Council caught a wind of his actions and ordered the Supreme Commander to immediately arrest him. All his work was confiscated. He is currently being held in a secure facility, the location of which I have not been informed of."

𝓢he paused, gauging the reactions of the people in the library. "The scientist in question is named Mr. Lucius Elliot. He was good friends with one Victor Bennett, who I believe some of you in this room are quite familiar with." Ms. Vernell especially, Adrianna recalled. According to Rowena, anyway.

"𝓣he Supreme Commander wishes that we investigate this matter. The Council has not been involved with anything besides Mr. Elliot's arrest, but there are certain loose ends that are not tying up as neatly as they should be." The captain lifted her chin slightly in Rowena's direction. "Lady Imperia-Airwright and I have chosen every single one of you for a specific reason. We would deeply appreciate your continued cooperation, although if any of you would like to withdraw your interest in this matter for whatever reason, we urge you to do so within the next twenty-four hours. After that, I have probable reason to believe that extricating yourself from this situation will be considerably more...difficult."

𝓐t this point, Lady Imperia-Airwright stepped forward, smiling sweetly. Her eyes, however, were as sharp as ever. "Indeed. Thank you, Captain Kingsford," she said, inclining her head in Adrianna's direction. "As the honorable captain has said, we would deeply appreciate your continued cooperation. A single misremembered word could put all of our lives at jeopardy, so we urge...caution, one could say." Something shifted in her expression, then; the sweet smile was still there, but Rowena had drawn her lips back so that more of her pearly-white teeth were exposed. There was something undeniably predatory about the smile, about the unreadable gleam in her warm brown eyes-but it was gone just as quickly as it had come, and Adrianna could not help but to feel a certain fondness for her friend from finishing school. Time changed many things, but it had not Rowena's ability to be beyond terrifying when she felt like it, it seemed. That, combined with her family's reputation, usually could dissuade some people from doing things that they would later come to regret.

"𝓣he first matter we would like to address," said Adrianna, watching the attention shift back to her as Lady Imperia-Airwright subtly stepped back once more, "is the murder of a man named Gabriel Overton. He was thirty-one years of age when he was found decapitated in his laboratory three months ago. The laboratory in question had been ransacked, and everything of value was missing. We presumed that the missing items were stolen by the same people who killed Mr. Overton."

"𝓕or those of you who are unfamiliar with the man in question, Mr. Overton also attended the Polytechnique Institute. He and Mr. Bennett were instrumental in the recent modifications to mechanical wings, although the two did not collaborate on any other projects." Adrianna paused, letting the information sink in. "At the time of his death, we discovered plans for mechanical birds hidden in his chambers. The details of this endeavor, however, were missing. I have reason to believe that Mr. Overton was attempting to create mechanical birds the way that the scientists of the Wasteland Cities created human automatons-that is, extract Myalo from a source, namely the brain, and then combine it with a metal frame or body."

𝓒aptain Kingsford exhaled slowly before continuing. "I also have reason to believe Mr. Overton was heavily involved with various smuggling operations in order to obtain the necessary tools to perform such a...procedure. Most of which, I will add, have been outlawed since the conclusion of the Wasteland Wars. Anyway, Lady Imperia-Airwright and I strongly suspect that the perpetrators of this crime was Mr. Elliot himself, with any allies that he may have acquired. The Supreme Commander and the Council, however, refuse to accept this claim without evidence to substantiate it. So the first matter of business is examining the extent of the connection between Mr. Overton's murder and Mr. Elliot's scientific work."

𝓛ady Imperia-Airwright coughed softly to get everybody's attention. "The captain and I extend our sincerest apologies for imparting such a volume of information all at once," she started, "but now that you at least have an idea of what we are up against, I must stress the importance of discretion. For that reason, we ask that you do not attempt to become too closely acquainted with the other individuals in this room." She paused delicately, and Adrianna could see how much it pained her to be this...direct. "These are only precautions, of course, but all the same, it would be very much appreciated, in case something untoward transpires. Additionally, we ask that every person come up with an alias or a pseudonym that we may use to refer to you in any written correspondence. We also ask that you do not try to record one another's selected aliases in any way, shape, or form. If, in the future, you are unable to recall somebody's alias, I would be happy to extend to you an invitation to afternoon tea." She flashed them a winning smile.

"𝓨es, thank you, Lady Imperia-Airwright," said Adrianna. "In order to keep the aliases as innocuous as possible, we have decided that each one should be either a food or a drink, or an article of clothing. Exceptions, of course, can be made, so long as the alias is appropriately discreet. Henceforth, I will sign my letters to you all as 'Gunpowder Tea'. Lady Imperia-Airwright has chosen 'Ruffled Parasol'. We would very much appreciate it if you could take a moment to think it over and then inform Lady Imperia-Airwright and I, as well as the others, what you have chosen for yourself. I am sure that some of you will have questions as well; feel free to voice them now. Thank you very much."

𝓗ushed murmurs rippled through the library as Adrianna took a step back. The captain glanced at Rowena, who did not acknowledge the look. Good. All was well in terms of the door.

[MorningStar1399]

E U D O R A

---

---

The more the captain spoke, the more Eudora questioned just how useful she’d be able to be. She knew pray little of automations, and she wasn’t perhaps the best with such obviously illegal activities. She was just a healer, a mother, the wife of a minister, and a graduate of Madame Geraldine’s.

However, she dealt best of all in favors. Perhaps that was what she could contribute after all. If ever they needed something from someone she had leverage over, she could get it from them for this cause. It would be safer than letting someone perhaps kill them or worse—interrogate them. Why bother with any of that when you can just ask politely and smile sweetly at them?

And an alias came to her almost right away. After all, she dealt best in favors. Favors and pastries. So what better than…

“A buttercream pearl,” she said, voice light. “Like the small embellishments on cakes, yet also the color of some of the real pearls some of us are wearing tonight.” Eudora smiled warmly, unable to remove that maternal glow until she let the smile fall completely.

[MorningStar1399]

A L E X A N D E R

---

---

Alexander raised his brows at the start of the speech, and in the end found himself shaking his head slightly. God how it must positively kill you to be this direct, Rowena my dear, he thought. Unfortunately not everyone in this room is particularly skilled at word games, especially not if they’ve had a drink or two.

The matters at hand were truly unpleasant indeed. Automations, oh dear. Definitely not my area of expertise, though information…hmm, that could be arranged, though I’m sure your sources would be far better than mine.

As far as an alias went, however, Alexander’s head went abuzz with possibilities. Perhaps a paisley cravat is too obvious, and a satin petticoat not obvious enough, he pondered. What about a ruby lion? Get my mane of hair confused with someone with red hair. No, not applicable to the theme. Alright, then a monocle, perhaps? A ruby one even? No, couldn’t possibly picture myself with one of those dreadful contraptions. I couldn’t bear to look like my father.

He frowned contemplatively. Well, what about brandywine? A brandywine handkerchief? Oh, no, what about aubergine instead? After all, a watch is far too obvious for me. Though perhaps aubergine is, too…

Before he could debate it any longer, Alexander stepped forward slightly. “My lady, my captain, you have my support, my cane, and an aubergine handkerchief.” He gave a smile, a slight jiggle of his head, then stepped back, resuming an air of hypocritical delighted indifference.