shylarah

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

The mention of Father Antonin's seal brought a nod from Ziotea. She wasn't so sure about delaying their report, but she definitely had more questions for him. It was a shame he was in El, but perhaps Warband Phoenix would meet up with him and some of the others there, and she'd have a chance to ask then. Certainly she could take the day or so they'd have back in Magnagrad to check the archives, and go through Father Antonin's bookshelf, though she doubted she'd find anything of interest in the latter. She disliked the idea of snooping beyond that. The healer had always been good to her. She might even go so far as to call him a friend.

Her brows snapped back down when Father Oren mentioned the statue. He was wrong, wrong about her, about what she'd meant. Her feelings on her heritage were complicated, sometimes conflicting, but while it was a curse -- anything that lead to the ether factories could hardly be termed otherwise -- she no longer sought to deny that it was a part of her. But what it meant...

"I came on a whim, not because of any meddling or machinations from Phoenix's Aspect. I very nearly didn't. So if One-Seventeen had a hand in this trip, it would have had to be through you. I would not have been a reliable target." Ziotea didn't bother commenting on the visions; she'd shared as much of hers as she cared to. "When I say I am not one of you, it is because this is the truth. I have the blood, the power, the raw destructive skill. But I know of Omestris only what could be learned on the street. I know only what others expect me to be because of it. What few memories I have from when I was small are filled with Lanostran teachings, Lanostran beliefs. You're mistaken, Father Kanus. I didn't destroy the statue, merely severed it from its base. The blood is there, and I have accepted that. The blood that shows so strongly in me has made me what I am. But it did not make me one of you." She paused, her frown deepening, but left the rest of her thoughts unsaid. Perhaps she envied that connection, she who was an outsider everywhere. Who had few ties to any heritage at all. Far more prevalent was the frustration that this land held only more questions, and none of her answers.

After a moment she changed topics. "We also shall have to decide what to do about those three upstairs. I mean to confront them. I dislike being yanked around. At the least, we can determine if they are constructs or merely possessed. But perhaps we can learn more from them."

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Post is...half done. I keep getting sidetracked.

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

Lady Alyssana Grey

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

"Captain Kingsford sends her regards."

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@Lovejoy quick question. Antonin went with Indira to El, right?

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

@TwilightShadow I have some questions for you. Firstly, it seems like you've left a great deal out of your characters' backgrounds. Pepper was grabbed by a mysterious man who killed her parents...does she know he did? Is he still around? Why did he send her to Polytech instead of Geraldine's? Did he give her training so she would pass as at least marginally respectable beforehand? For Vis, who was this lady? Is she still an important person in Vis's life?

@buffykdh Right. He does look good. Obviously I need to confer with Ayz, but I like what you have. I slipped; he'd have entered Polytech just as Alys and her brother were graduating, so there's minimal chance of them meeting there.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@Lovejoy woo~

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

@buffykdh Roderick looks solid so far. He might know Alys and her brother through classes at Polytech -- or possibly through one of the social functions they were dragged to convinced to attend as aristocrats.

AAAH YOU NINJA'd ME!

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@collectorofmyst I made a mistake in this post and one other. I should have said Father Kanus, not Father Oren. Ziotea wouldn't have used his first name but the one he used to introduced himself, given their location.

@Lovejoy Also we do eventually need to sort out that Alexandre thing...and I have a couple ideas for Ziotea/Rodion stuff that should be discussed, if not written out.

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

@Lovejoy@CollectorOfMyst hey guys. Lovely post, Myst! I have been offline for a week so I only just now saw it. I have no issues with Oren doing a lot of talking. And his suggestions might not pan out, but that's not a huge issue either. I should get a reply up in the next couple days (still settling back in after a rather unexpected time away. @.@) or possibly tonight. <3

Ziotea might notice something off, but I don't think she'd figure it out yet. She doesn't know Oren that well yet, and while she's pretty confident she also knows she has to work with him on their upcoming mission.

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

@Briza Ooh I like him. The idea of perfumes is an interesting one!

Can't approve you without checking in with Ayz, but I'd be happy to figure out what Alys and Finnegan think of each other in the meantime. I suspect they know of each other/have met but little more than that, given that they have very little common ground.