Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s): Blue @CitrusArms
“Don’t flatter myself?” Peter slapped a hand against his chest, eyebrows shooting up in mock shock. “If I don’t, who’s gonna? World’s already done a bang-up job convincing us we’ll never be enough. But I know my worth and I’m gonna give credit where it’s due. So yeah, I am quite the looker alright.” His grin stretched into a full-on sh*t-eating display. “Enough to catch your eye and not let go even after the dance was done.” If Blue’s gaze could shoot daggers, he turned into a knife block in the time it took to browse the buffet spread. “No shame in owning up to it, you know?”
Satisfied with his assessment of Blue, he committed the location of her weapon to memory before signaling the passing server.
“Where'd y'learn a jig like tha', anyway?” she asked.
“Here and there.” He shrugged, trading his empty glass for a full one off the server’s tray without missing a beat. “But that ain’t what you’re really asking, is it?” As Peter took a sip, he eyed her over the rim of his glass.
He was ready for the usual crack about how “his kind” shouldn’t be rubbing elbows with the high and mighty. Except, her accent tipped him off that she didn’t exactly belong either. His guess? Blue got to hang here because she was cozy with someone who did.
Peter pretended not to notice the accusation behind Blue’s probing question about missing belongings. He just checked his pockets, turning it inside out for show, and patted himself down. “Yeah. Why?”
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s): Shehzadi Nahir @Rodiak
“What is a life worth living if not for the risks and surprises? Worry not, my dear, I'll be sure to keep you close and steady.” Possibly, more than Shehzadi Nahir bargained for.
To call whatever Riona was doing a “dance” would be, at best, charitable. She shuffled. Stumbled. Fought for purchase in stilts too slender to provide it. Each step was a balancing act, a gamble, as she did her best to not punch a hole in Shehzadi Nahir’s feet. Despite her efforts, the results were mixed. Every time her foot landed squarely on the Shehzadi’s toes, Riona winced. Thankfully, her full weight wasn’t behind the blunders to cause injury, but it didn’t make her any less mortified.
True to her word, Shehzadi Nahir kept her close and steady. With gentle hands, she corrected each fumble and kept Riona upright. She was, without a doubt, the only saving grace.
Around them, Riona sensed the eyes and barely concealed snickers of other guests as the pair tottered past. Heat rose to Riona’s cheeks under their amusement. She glared down at her feet, gleaming gold in the light, determined not to provide the vultures with further entertainment. That proved to be her undoing, as she should’ve known.
Too focused on her own feet, what little pattern the two built up to this point fell apart. A misplaced step threw Shehzadi Nahir off. Riona reacted, wrapping one hand around the woman while the other seized her arm to pull her up before she could fall.
For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked, faces near enough that Riona could breathe in her perfume and admire Shehzadi Nahir’s long lashes framing her golden brown eyes.
Once the Shehzadi regained her footing, Riona released her and a heavy sigh. “Please accept my apologies, my lady. I’m usually better at dancing than this.” Dancing had been one of her favorite pastimes since childhood. Something that felt as natural as breathing. It just never involved being strapped into torture devices.
“How does anyone manage in these heels?” she asked as they resumed their not-a-dance. The heels were beautiful, a testament to Via’s remarkable sense of style, but practicality was sacrificed at the altar of fashion. Riona glanced around at the other women who wore similar shoes, marveling at their poise. Why weren’t they limping or swan-diving onto the first chair in sight? Years of practice must’ve hardened their skin. Either that or she should never play cards with them because they were masters of stoicism. Both seemed equally likely to Riona.
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
Time: Evening Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom Interaction(s): Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Mr. V (Kazumin Nagasa) @samreaper; Lord Leo Smithwood @Helo; Lord Cassius Damien (Cassius Vael) @PapaOso
Ryn stared at Lady Vikena's hand resting lightly on his own for some time before slowly turning his hand over to clasp hers, giving it a gentle, acknowledging squeeze.
“Please continue to tell me why you're disheartened,” she said.
A rueful smile tugged at his lips as he met her eyes. “By you, Charlotte.” With his free hand, Ryn reached to lay his palm over the back of Lady Vikena’s, sandwiching her hand between both of his own.
“I thought, now that we’re a team…” Ryn’s gaze flitted toward Mr. V, recalling the day when he and Ms. Persephone had stumbled unexpectedly into the Vikena estate, and how they had all agreed to harbor the wanted fugitives. What brings people closer than partaking in a bit of misdeeds together? “Partners in crime, as it were,” he winked at Mr. V and then focused on Lady Vikena again. “I thought you’d give us a more truthful answer than platitudes you’d offer strangers.”
Just as Ryn’s lips parted to speak further, a lion caught his eye, bearing down upon their little group. “Goo—” He got no further before Lord Smithwood thrust a bracelet upon the table before them.
“There is a thief wandering the ballroom,” he announced brusquely, “they have stolen my watch and left that in my pocket. We must solve this crime immediately.”
Ryn looked from the jewelry to Lord Smithwood and back, then turned to Lady Vikena once more, giving her hand one final, gentle pat. “I’d like to continue our conversation later, Charlotte. Is that okay with you?”
Redirecting his attention to Lord Smithwood, Ryn was about to ask a question when another nobleman approached the slowly growing congregation. “Excuse my interruption…” Lord Damien.
So this must be who Peter spoke of. Ryn studied the handsome man and noticed how intently the wolf’s gaze lingered on the butterfly. He smiled to himself, sensing the lord’s true motives for inserting himself here.
“And you’ll have to excuse me for drawing you away from the one who so captivates your interest.” Ryn rose from his seat. “Lord Cassius Damien, I presume? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Fritz.” He bowed in greeting, paused, and extended a hand, seeing if Count Damien’s son was the kind of person to shake hands with “just Fritz.”
“If the others don’t mind, I think it would be heartening to have your assistance, Lord Damien. More the merrier, I say.” He flashed Lord Damien an amicable smile.
“Now then,” Ryn faced Lord Smithwood, “Detective, please describe what your watch looks like for me. When did you last see it?”
Peter
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s):Persephone Olivia @Potter; Blue @CitrusArms
“What’s going on?” Olivia asked.
Contrary to Olivia’s obvious worry, Peter’s face lit up with a wide, reckless grin. Impish excitement glimmered in his eyes. “A real shindig.” Then his voice dropped lower, a hint of sharpness beneath his playful tone. “I’d take this chance to do what you came here to do, while the shifty weasel has people distracted.”
Said weasel guided Olivia smoothly into a spin so that when she stopped, she faced a particular direction. Lo and behold, across the ballroom, stood the lady in blue, her eyes sharp and focused on them. Once Olivia spun back to him, Peter continued. “Saw Blue Lady? She’s been checking us out for a while now. Think she has the hots for me… ” He smirked, “That and I wager she’s a guard.”
He heaved a deep, melodramatic sigh. “I’m too damn sexy for my own good. It’s just impossible to ignore me forever.”
Chuckling, he mused, “Too bad too. Was hoping we’d get to spend more time together.” Peter’s laughter tapered off as he found himself staring at Olivia, longer than he had intended.
“So, what do you wanna do?” Peter glanced at Cowlick and Lady Lottie’s direction. “You found your pals. No reason not to go to them.” He looked back at Olivia. “Especially when I’m about to go on a heist.”
Peter strolled down the buffet table, his eyes scanning the spread with mixed interest. He plopped any appetizers he could eat with his hands into his mouth and washed them down with a gulp from his sparkling drink. He grabbed a mini quiche before leaving the table behind.
Leaning back against the cool wall, he bit into the quiche. The buttery crust gave way to a creamy, smoky filling that hit all the right notes. As the sharp cheddar and rich bacon blended in his mouth, he let his eyes close and moaned.
The weasel glanced over at his blue neighbor. “Gotta say, the music’s a bore fest, but the food might just make up for it.” His gaze traveled up and down Blue’s body. On the surface, it came across as ogling. But really, he was sizing her up—muscle distribution, stance, the subtle tell of a favored limb, potential hidden weapon. When their eyes met, he smirked.
“You know,” Peter said, “I couldn’t help but notice you giving me the eye for a while. Like what you see?”
Riona awkwardly danced with Nahir and accidentally tripped her.
Meanwhile, Ryn told Charlotte that she was the reason why he was disheartened, but before he could elaborate, Leo came in with a case: The Mystery of the Swapped Heirlooms. Ryn asked Charlotte if they could talk later. He also introduced himself to Cassius.
Peter suggested that Persephone go do what she came to do while everyone was preoccupied by the “theft.” Later, he approached Stratya and struck up a conversation with her.
Various scars here and there; partially missing ear
âś âś âś âś âś
Psychology
Likes:
âś Thrill of risk-taking âś Teasing others âś Music (especially jazz, charleston, swing, and ragtime)
Dislikes:
âś Being bored or still for too long âś Asking for help âś Strict rules
Fears:
âś Emotional attachment âś Complete silence âś Losing his edge
Habits/Quirks
âś Speaks with hands a lot âś Teases or flirts with almost anyone âś Whistles or hums to himself
Sexuality:
Closeted Bisexual
Personality:
Vasco is always looking out for number one. He ain’t afraid to get his hands dirty if it means coming out on top. The streets made him hard and cynical - keeps most everyone at arm’s length. But man, he sure loves to live it up - Vasco’s always looking for the next thrill or the next good time. Morals? Pshh, please, Vasco plays by his own rules. He flies off the handle quick as a jackrabbit and forgets just as fast. Plenty confident, maybe too much for his own good, but that’s Vasco DeLuca for you.
âś âś âś âś âś
Background
Occupation
Mobster Underling
Living Immediate Family Members:
Unknown (Orphan)
Dead Immediate Family Members:
Unknown (Orphan)
Current Companions:
Aurora; Rowan; Barrock
Current and Past Lover(s):
Doesn’t remember all their names
Current Equipment(Any weapons etc):
Unless you count the weights tied to him, literally brought nothing to Avalia but himself in his birthday suit.
History:
Let’s talk about Vasco DeLuca, yeah? He never knew his parents – dumped at some church doorstep. Typical sob story, but Vasco didn’t stick around crying about it. Nah, he bolted from that orphanage faster than a cat on a hot tin roof and took to the streets like a fish to water. This was during Prohibition, mind you, when the whole city was a speakeasy in disguise and the streets were as mean as they come. But Vasco, see, he was street-smart. Started with small-time swindles and thievery, to get by. Eventually, he joined up with the local toughs and, boy, did he find his calling. Before he knew it, he was making a name for himself with a pistol in hand and not a lick of fear in his heart.
Then came the big leagues: the mafia. They saw something in him, something useful. Promised him the world, and for a while, he got it. The life was sweet – money, dames, excitement, you name it. Vasco lived it up, thinking he was untouchable. That’s where things got dicey.
Vasco got too big for his britches. Pinched cash and goods right under the boss’s nose, started some side hustles. And like that wasn’t stupid enough, he bedded his boss’s daughter. Both of them. And his lady. Talk about playing with fire!
Of course, it all caught up with him. The family couldn’t let all that slide; made an example out of him. Stripped, weighed down, and given a one-way ticket to Davy Jones’ locker. Vasco DeLuca, the cautionary tale of what happens when you fly too high, too fast.
The writing was on the wall; his days of being the cat’s pajamas were numbered. Vasco had been angling for an exit, pocketing whatever he could on his way out. Just never imagined his exit would be as fish food.
âś âś âś âś âś
Combat and Magic Stat Creation
Fitness Level:
âś Athletic (trained often if not daily)
Physical Strengths:
âś Eagle eye âś Quick reflexes âś High pain tolerance
Time: EVENING Location: EXT./INT. THE TIPSY TAVERN - RIVER PORT Interactions/Mentions: The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess; The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; Tavern patrons Equipment:
⋆ Attire from Earth ⋆ Backpack ⋆ Smartphone ⋆ Wallet and key ⋆ Computer ⋆ Headphones ⋆ Spare eyeglasses ⋆ Plastic bag ⋆ Letter ⋆ Zion's hunting knife ⋆ Damp shirt ⋆ Clothes and cloak "borrowed" from Malachi's ⋆ Canteen "borrowed" from Malachi's ⋆ Map "borrowed" from Malachi's ⋆ Kenia's housewarming gifts (bread)
Jun stood at the entrance of The Tipsy Tavern, his heart doing a weird jitterbug. He wasn't exactly a fan of places like these (too loud, too much going on). But as much as he wanted to leave River Port and put as much distance between Malachi and the others, he knew wandering around in the dark wasn't the brightest idea. Plus, he had zero clue which way to go. And, as any seasoned RPG player knows, a tavern's the best place to gather info. Biting the bullet, Jun pushed open the creaky door.
Immediately, he was hit by a wall of laughter, chatter, and all-out party noise. The air, thick with the scents of spilled booze and tobacco smoke, carried an undercurrent of musky, not-so-charming hint of BO that really, really needed to be aired out. He grimaced as his shoes stuck to the floor with every step – when did they last mop up this mess? The combined heat from all the bodies and fireplace only made things even more unpleasant.
The place was rammed with clientele from every corner of life. Around scattered tables, weary travelers and townsfolk were kicking back, offloading their day's burdens. Some were all about that drink in hand, others about the company they kept. Over in one corner, a bunch of regulars, still in their work clothes, were going hard at a darts game. The thud of darts hitting the board mixed with cheers and groans, as bets were won and lost. In another corner, an orc and what looked like a minotaur were locked in an intense arm-wrestling match, surrounded by a shouting crowd. High above, a bard was trying their best to strum out a tune on their lute, which got pretty much lost in the racket.
Right in the heart of it all, there was a wild party going on. It gave off major frat party vibes – the kind Jun always steered clear of back in uni.
As Jun tried to navigate through the crowd towards the bartender, he got a sudden shove. The burly, scar-faced dude in mismatched armor who bumped into Jun shot him a stink eye, clearly miffed by Jun's failure to dodge.
"Hey, watch it!" he slurred as he swayed on his feet.
"I-I'm sorry, I did-di-di-didn't mean to—" Jun stammered, backing away.
The guy squinted and studied Jun's appearance. "You're not from around here, are you?" He leaned in close enough for Jun to get a whiff of his last few drinks. "Hold up… You... a Human?"
"N-no!" Jun blurted. If he remembered Avalia's setting correctly, 'humans' don't naturally exist. The only ones that do were the summoned 'chosen.' Meaning, it'd be easy for The New Dawn to track Jun down if he said he was human. Safer to pretend he was roleplaying as some other race. "I'm… um… uhhh…" His eyes zipped around and landed on a group of dwarves. "A dwarf!"
For an awkward beat, the guy said nothing, blinked, then frowned. "A dwarf?"
"Y-yes. A very tall dwarf." Jun quickly added. "With giantism."
The guy just stared (and Jun could only return the look) until he cracked up. "A giant dwarf, you say! Haven't seen those before." He slapped Jun on the back. "Sit your giant dwarven arse down, boy, and drink!" Before Jun could protest, he was dragged into the thick of the party and pushed onto a seat. A massive jug of beer thudded in front of him, its frothy contents sloshing over.
"Uh… thank you, but I just wanted to ask if anyone knows the best way out of River Port," Jun tried to explain but wasn't sure if anyone could hear him over the noise. "Or if there's anything dangerous out there I should watch out for..."
"You want answers, giant dwarf? You drink with us!" declared the guy and the table roared in agreement. "Bottoms up!"
Feeling the weight of dozens of eyes on him, Jun hesitantly lifted the jug to his lips, the heavy scent of beer filling his nostrils. With a deep breath, he took a careful sip.
Jun went to The Tipsy Tavern to see if he could find out anything useful, but gets dragged into drinking with the patrons.
Time: Evening Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom Interaction(s): Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Mr. V (Kazumin Nagasa) @samreaper
“I'm alright, and you?”
Again. She did that again. Hurt surfaced in Ryn’s smile. “Disheartened,” he admitted.
He turned his head toward the other party attendees, keeping one ear attuned to the murmured exchange between Mr. V and Lady Vikena, as his eyes roved over the sea of masks in search of the weasel. It did not take long to spot Peter engaged in a spirited dance with Ms. Persephone. Their movements were delightfully out of sync with the music. There was an anarchic charm in their carefree twirls and steps. A twinge of guilt pricked at Ryn at the thought of interrupting their merriment.
Raising a hand, Ryn attempted to signal Peter. A misinterpretation from a couple of guests across the room led to a few returned waves, but the intended recipient seemed to remain oblivious. Just as Ryn prepared to try again, Peter’s dance shifted. The redhead took a step away from Ms. Persephone and did a jig; his feet executed a rapid shuffle while his lifted arms remained relatively still, save for the familiar cant.
Peter
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s):Persephone Olivia @Potter
“So, Rogue, do you know how to dance as well?”
Peter barked a laugh. “What? You mean that?” He gave a dismissive jerk of his chin towards the other couples, shuffling in a monotonous funeral procession. “That ain’t dancing. That’s paint drying.” His grin turned conspiratorial, “This is a dance.” Without warning, Peter swept Olivia into an energetic dance of his own making. Every twist and turn were spontaneous, guided by nothing but their laughter and whims, a stark contrast to the stiff-backed formality suffocating the room.
As they spun, Peter’s sharp eyes caught sight of Fritz, probably itching to deliver a lecture about Olivia. He weighed the option of pretending not to notice the other man but knew better than to try.
Reluctantly, he took a step back from Olivia and broke into a jig, a ruse for their secret conversation.
Fritz lowered his hand and discreetly signed back. Friend. He angled his finger in Cowlick’s general direction. Wants black powder. Can you get some?
Black powder? Was Cowlick gonna raze C-Bert’s mansion to the ground? The thought sent a wicked grin across his face. That sounded like his kind of thing… But first.
Peter switched up his steps. Depends. He then gave Olivia a quick, meaningful glance. Can we keep her? It was a long shot, but he had to ask.
Fritz just folded his arms in response. Peter shrugged internally. Well, worth the shot. He’d try his luck again later.
On it, Boss. With a playful hop, Peter returned to Olivia, slowing their dance to a pace that allowed him to draw her close.
“You know, for a noblewoman, Lady Olivia, you’re not half as bad on the dance floor. You go out a lot?” He twirled her under his arm, “I picked up most of my moves from festivals and taverns.”
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
“Char...did Lady Violet say anything or show desire towards coming to this party or that other one going on..that..ritual party or something by that huge bear of a man or something?” Ryn’s ears perked up at the mention of Lady Damien’s name. “Basically, I'm asking if you spoke to her prior and if so, if she expressed interest in the events?”
Ryn surveyed the ballroom for Lady Damien amongst the vibrant gowns and crisp suits. When he failed to locate her, he sought her magical signature—the magicae he had seen at the tea party—through the enchanted lenses, but to no avail. “I’ve been here since the party started, but I haven’t seen her at all,” he said as he continued his search.
Then, from the corner of his enchanted sight, a black amorphous shape crept in. The energy coalesced into tormented visages that dissipated just as quickly. Brief flashes of dark magenta flickered within like lightning in a storm cloud. However, before he could discern the magicae or its bearer, a group of guests walked onto the dance floor, blocking his line of sight at the same moment the enchantment lost its effect. Well, that’s not ominous and unsettling at all.
Spotting Peter dancing with Persephone, Ryn asked Peter to get the gunpowder Kazumin asked for. Peter decided to enjoy his time dancing with Persephone a little bit longer before going to do Ryn’s bidding. Meanwhile, when the subject of Violet comes up, Ryn tries to look for her in the ballroom. Though he didn’t find her, he saw a disturbing magicae. @princess@samreaper@Potter
Various scars here and there; partially missing ear
âś âś âś âś âś
Psychology
Likes:
âś Thrill of risk-taking âś Teasing others âś Music (especially jazz, charleston, swing, and ragtime)
Dislikes:
âś Being bored or still for too long âś Asking for help âś Strict rules
Fears:
âś Emotional attachment âś Complete silence âś Losing his edge
Habits/Quirks
âś Speaks with hands a lot âś Teases or flirts with almost anyone âś Whistles or hums to himself
Sexuality:
Closeted Bisexual
Personality:
Vasco is always looking out for number one. He ain’t afraid to get his hands dirty if it means coming out on top. The streets made him hard and cynical - keeps most everyone at arm’s length. But man, he sure loves to live it up - Vasco’s always looking for the next thrill or the next good time. Morals? Pshh, please, Vasco plays by his own rules. He flies off the handle quick as a jackrabbit and forgets just as fast. Plenty confident, maybe too much for his own good, but that’s Vasco DeLuca for you.
âś âś âś âś âś
Background
Occupation
Mobster Underling
Living Immediate Family Members:
Unknown (Orphan)
Dead Immediate Family Members:
Unknown (Orphan)
Current Companions:
Aurora; Rowan; Barrock
Current and Past Lover(s):
Doesn’t remember all their names
Current Equipment(Any weapons etc):
Unless you count the weights tied to him, literally brought nothing to Avalia but himself in his birthday suit.
History:
Let’s talk about Vasco DeLuca, yeah? He never knew his parents – dumped at some church doorstep. Typical sob story, but Vasco didn’t stick around crying about it. Nah, he bolted from that orphanage faster than a cat on a hot tin roof and took to the streets like a fish to water. This was during Prohibition, mind you, when the whole city was a speakeasy in disguise and the streets were as mean as they come. But Vasco, see, he was street-smart. Started with small-time swindles and thievery, to get by. Eventually, he joined up with the local toughs and, boy, did he find his calling. Before he knew it, he was making a name for himself with a pistol in hand and not a lick of fear in his heart.
Then came the big leagues: the mafia. They saw something in him, something useful. Promised him the world, and for a while, he got it. The life was sweet – money, dames, excitement, you name it. Vasco lived it up, thinking he was untouchable. That’s where things got dicey.
Vasco got too big for his britches. Pinched cash and goods right under the boss’s nose, started some side hustles. And like that wasn’t stupid enough, he bedded his boss’s daughter. Both of them. And his lady. Talk about playing with fire!
Of course, it all caught up with him. The family couldn’t let all that slide; made an example out of him. Stripped, weighed down, and given a one-way ticket to Davy Jones’ locker. Vasco DeLuca, the cautionary tale of what happens when you fly too high, too fast.
The writing was on the wall; his days of being the cat’s pajamas were numbered. Vasco had been angling for an exit, pocketing whatever he could on his way out. Just never imagined his exit would be as fish food.
âś âś âś âś âś
Combat and Magic Stat Creation
Fitness Level:
âś Athletic (trained often if not daily)
Physical Strengths:
âś Eagle eye âś Quick reflexes âś High pain tolerance
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s): Shehzadi Nahir @Rodiak
Part of Riona wondered if the so-called “dragon who enjoys pouring sweet beverages on lovely women” was none other than Shehzadi Nahir herself—a warning, maybe, not to cross her—or an entirely different person.
Feeling soft lips brush her hand, she became acutely aware that Shehzadi Nahir and Shahzade Munir shared more than just a familial name; a penchant for flirtation ran deep in al-Kadir’s bloodline. Despite herself, Riona couldn’t help but smile in amusement at the thought. A smile which widened further when the Shehzadi asked Riona, of all people, to be her dance partner. Unexpected, to be sure, but…
Just then, Riona felt herself pushed forward, she reached out instinctively to catch her balance. Her hands found purchase not on the floor but on Shehzadi Nahir. Her arms wrapped tightly around the other woman and her fingers clenched handfuls of delicate roses. Heart pounding, Riona realized she was clinging to the Saltun’s daughter in a most improper embrace.
A thousand and one worries should’ve flooded her in that panic-stricken moment: the impropriety of touching the Shehzadi so, how any harm to her could spark a diplomatic incident, and so much more. Yet, what worried Riona the most was damaging the exquisite garment. What if she ripped out the roses or tore the gown from its seams? Would she be able to sew it back together? If not, how many years of her salary would it take to compensate for the ruined dress? Or would they demand retribution and chop off her hands instead? F**k.
The weasel-man who accidentally bumped into her offered his apologies and, after ensuring that no one was injured, swiftly departed with his date. All the while Riona remained fixed in place, unable to trust herself to move without messing up something. Only guided by the Shehzadi’s steadying hands did Riona disentangle herself, inch by wary inch.
Her cheeks aflame, Riona said, “I am rather accident-prone tonight. A dance with me might cost you dearly—a toe, perhaps, or your dignity, should we tumble for all to see.” With a curtsy, she added, “Knowing this, will you brave such risks, my lady?”
Riona extended her hand. “If you dare, then the dance is yours, surprises and all.”
One of the guests bumped into Riona and she collided with Nahir. Luckily Nahir caught them both and they didn’t fall. Riona asked if Nahir would still want to dance with her. @Rodiak
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Ballroom Interaction(s):Persephone Olivia @Potter; Leon Lionheart @Helo; Pink lady @Rodiak
Peter’s chest puffed up like a balloon, pride and satisfaction fizzed within, as Olivia’s tension visibly eased. Each switcheroo he pulled off brightened her face, lighting it up with awe.
Eager to ride the momentum and end on a high note, Peter scanned the room for his next mark. A guy decked out in red and gold drew his attention. With the number of lion-themed accessories on him, you’d think he wanted to represent a whole Pride. The full-faced lion mask, tiny lion head cufflinks, and the most out-of-place (but also the most comfortable looking) lion slippers roared overcompensation. That or Leon Lionheart had a thing for lions.
A smirk curled his lip when he spotted the one anomaly in the man’s ensemble that didn’t roar: a sleek, un-lion-like pocket watch. Catching Olivia’s eye, he tapped his nose twice, pointed at his eyes, then flicked his gaze to the lion-man. Watch closely.
Peter smoothly closed the distance between him and Leon Lionheart, tracking the lion-man’s movements, the rhythm of his breathing, the sway of his posture. Timing was key. The second he got distracted, Peter slipped in. A quick flick and the watch was his, some other noble’s trinket in its place.
Job done. Now where to dump the loot? His eyes settled on two women, one swallowed in pink and the other in orange and gold. Guiding Olivia near them, Peter suddenly stopped and faced her. “A dance, m’lady?” Bowing deep, he rose with a wink. Play along, he mouthed.
When she accepted, Peter let out a dramatic sigh of relief, exclaiming, “Oh, you have no idea how—” His words broke off as he “accidentally” backed into the women. The bump was gentle, a fleeting contact, but either Orange was too plastered to stand or she was frail as a dried flower because that little bump sent Orange crashing into her pink friend.
A genuine “shit” escaped Peter and he reached out to catch her fall. Fortunately for all of them, Pink was made of sterner stuff than Orange. She steadied both herself and her friend before they tumbled onto the floor.
After some apologies and assurances that everyone was okay, Peter whisked Olivia away to the dance floor, leaving Leon Lionheart’s pocket watch dangling from the back of Orange’s golden waist piece.
As Peter assumed his position, he cleared his throat, shaking off the awkwardness. “And that,” he declared, “is how you do it.”
In the nick of time, too. A ripple of unrest was brewing among some of the guests. Most were just scratching their heads, puzzled at how in the world their stuff rearranged themselves. The handful who were the butt of Peter's swapping prank began to notice that they had something that wasn’t theirs. He savored the scene with no small amount of smugness. Then, he caught sight of Blue, the fife-wielding fighter, eyeing the crowd. A shiver of thrill raced through him. She looked like she was on the hunt.
Peter took a pocket watch from Leo. In the process of planting it onto Riona, he caused her to collide into Nahir. After all that, Peter led Olivia to the dance floor. He noticed Stratya on alert. @Potter@Helo@Rodiak@CitrusArms
Time: Evening Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom Interaction(s): Mr. V @samreaper; Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Lord Leo Smithwood @Helo
“If possible, would you know where I could get ahold of a small pouch of gun powder?”
Ryn’s eyes widened at the request. Even a pinch of black powder could wreak havoc if mishandled. What mischief could Mr. V possibly have up his sleeve that required such a volatile substance? Before Ryn could inquire further, Lady Vikena approached. “Evening gentlemen. Having fun over here I hope?” The count inclined his head, a courteous bow, the antlers of his stag mask casting twisted shapes across the polished floor beneath their feet.
While Mr. V spoke, Ryn removed his spectacles and carefully swapped out the spent lens with a new one. With his enchanted eyewear back in place, Ryn scrutinized Lady Vikena’s magicae once more. Her natural hue and the unnatural presence that encased her—suffocating in its intensity—remained unchanged. For better or for worse, Ryn could not say. At the very least, Wayra’s reaction suggested that this was not a recent development.
A possibility struck him, Miss Delilah might’ve known about this. Not just her, but also—... He chewed his bottom lip, lost in contemplation. Could this be connected to the Vikena family’s current plight?
Ryn shifted his attention to Lord Smithwood, who stood at a distance. His magicae remained steady. The shadows still clung along the fringes, but their grip on him seemed to have weakened as the day wore on, appearing fainter than they had that morning.
“I see some seats over there,” the count remarked, gesturing toward an unoccupied corner of the ballroom. “Shall we?”
As they crossed the room, Ryn asked Mr. V in a hushed tone, “Do you intend to harm anyone?” He had to at least know that before he could consider handing the man black powder. Acknowledging Mr. V’s response with a subtle nod, Ryn continued on his path.
Waving in Lord Smithwood’s direction, Ryn indicated the corner and extended a silent invitation to join them if he wished. They were a team, after all. It would be remiss of Ryn to leave him out of their discussions.
Upon reaching the empty seats, he pulled out a chair for Lady Vikena and then another for Mr. V before realizing his misstep. Understanding the need to maintain Mr. V’s guise as a servant, he flashed an apologetic look and took the seat for himself.
Questions swirled within Ryn’s mind, many things to discuss and fill Lady Vikena in on—about the investigation, the items Ryn had left for her examination, his findings at the psychiatric institution, and far more besides. However, as Mr. V astutely pointed out, Lady Vikena’s “episode” took precedence. “It’s good to see you Lady Charlotte. I was beginning to worry that I somehow missed our very first CLF Detective Agency meeting. I hadn’t realized it would be quite so... clandestine.” He smiled, but concern was there. “How are you faring?”
Ryn double-checked Charlotte and Leo’s magicae and confirmed that they each still have a magical energy clinging to them that is not their own. While guiding the group to a place to sit, Ryn asked Mr. V if he intended to do harm with the gunpowder. He also signaled Leo where they would be. Once seated, Ryn picked up the conversation by asking Charlotte how she was doing. @samreaper@princess@Helo
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