M O O N
"No... no it's fine..." The Feather-Bearded woman hummed nervously in response to Kyoshi's bow. Her hand slowly drifted towards her ruffled collar.
"It's not... you're not at fault at all, Madams. Your manners... they're impeccable. You honor me, strangers, and yet I have done naught to deserve it." She tipped her head and bowed in turn, raising her dress with a trembling hand as she descended far lower than her rank demanded.
"Your company is... convivial. You both speak so.... strangely. Please, find no offense in my words. These stories you tell... stories of Avatars and Kingdoms far beyond France... They interest me so. Please, if it is not too much to ask of you... I would love to learn some more. Being so far from home, these miraculous lands of which you speak... they evoke some sort of... comfort within me, a comfort I have long since longed for, and long since lacked...'
@Takumi @Jeremi
D R I N K S - T A B L E
"Oh, this old thing?" The Lioness purred smugly, plucking upon her furs. Oh, she had been waiting for someone to ask her that
all night.
"Yes. It's very much real. The filthy little bitch put up a nasty fight for it too. I've never seen a beast swallow so many arrows and still twitch as you skin it. Still. The thrill of the kill, the thrill of the dissection, makes it all the more... empowering, no? Anyone can buy a fur. Very few have the guts required to claim one." The Huntress raised her glass.
"To hell with the frauds. We're the genuine item, you and I. Hunters, as nature intended. A toast, to authenticity..." She fell silent for a beat.
"And to you, Mr.Muntz..."
The Lioness went quiet, suspiciously so. The hiatus of speech that followed Zhongli's introduction summoned an aura of tension. The Lioness was loud and proud, and the silence she now expressed brought with in aria of suspense.
"Oh, is this some ill-conceived attempt at humor? Manager at a Funeral Parlor, are you? Oh... Oh no... Sweetie..." The Lioness scoffed, a smile slithering across her once stoic lips. A laugh spluttered from her pursed lips. She tried to stifle the first two, but by the time the third chuckled bubbled up from the depths of her belly, the dam of her response finally cracked.
"Oh, Sweetie..." She cooed.
"You really are common, aren't you? Oh Sweetie... What to do with you..." Her tongue danced upon her top lip.
"How did a lowborn peasant like yourself come into such fine garments? Theft, no doubt." The Lioness plucked Zhongli's drink from his hand and set it down upon the table. As soon as it left her grasp, she wiped her hand upon her gown as if she were scrubbing the stain of poverty from her fingertips.
"The Cathedral is just down the road from here. If you're looking for charity, kindly leave the gentry in peace and go beg for bread there. As it stands, you're simply cluttering up this very exclusive event..."
"Yes... Come, Come," Another Masquerade attendant approached the drink's table, a glass of champagne already fixed between his sharpened fingernails. "The paint you wear upon your face... It must have taken you hours to
perfect. Clearly, it was time well spent, for perfect it is..."
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"It would be a shame for such an impeccable vision to be deformed beneath the weight of lonely tears..." The Matador smirked, offering Michiko a glass of white wine.
"Drink with us. Laugh with us. Laugh, as if laugh-lines were but a myth. One of the Wives just called the Archon
a peasant... I suspect that the night's entertainment just click up a notch..."
@Yun Lee @Capri @Jackythejack
S C A R E D - M A N
Daughter's words of comfort simply filled the man with a greater, more primal terror. Witnessing the Avatars glow in the courtyard might have placed a deathly fright within the stranger, but the angelic visage of Daughter stopped his heart mid-beat. The strength to flee was expelled from within him. He fell to his knees, trembling and weeping.
"Sorcière!" He stammered through his tears, his lips aflutter.
"Sorcière de la Maison! Pardonne-moi! Pardonne! J'ai fait mes offrandes! J'ai fait! Nous avons fait tout ce que Papy a demandé... Nous vous avons donné notre récolte... Nous n'avons plus rien à donner... Nous avons à peine de quoi manger... Pour donner à nos propres églises... Freyja... S'il te plaît... Je n'ai plus rien à donner... S'il vous plaît... Laissez-moi vivre... S'il vous plaît..."
@Nyssa Dunlap
D O O R S
The Guard fell silent for a minute that crawled on for an hour. He looked left. He looked right. His dazes eyes blinked thrice, slowly. A slack jaw swung lose. A heartbeat later, he willed himself to speak.
"What in the Lord's name is a Bathroom?" He fell silent again.
"Are you looking for the Old Roman Baths? They're... They're not in Rouen, Mouseiur. The Thermes de Cluny... they're in Paris. But they're in ruins. They haven't in open to the public for well-over a thousand years. I don't know how I can help you, monsieur..." Gavin's simply request has baffled the Guard. His head drifted to one side as he struggled to decode his intentions.
"I can't imagine how a bath could fit inside a house. They're énorme. They need buildings all to themselves, you know. If you're looking to wash yourself, the River Seine is not far from here. We have a water-trough nearby, too, but that's... that's only for the horses. Are you feeling okay, Monsieur? Would you like me to call a Doctor? Whatever malaise is haunting you, I'm sure it's nothing a jar of leeches and a bout of bloodletting can't fix..."
@Lucky
B A N D
"Yes!" The Mirror replied eagerly, almost greedily, the Rose's insight.
"It's art! It's all art! Good or bad, right or wrong, art moves us. Art doesn't come with an instruction manual. You can't put spirit in a box. You can't..." Her words faded as her eyes those of the Flutist for one, endless moment. Her lips started to quake. Her fingers ventured northward towards her collar, where they fiddled and twitched as if their lives depended upon it. Every breath she swallowed somehow seemed heavier than the last. The Flutist, oblivious to both his admirer and her admiration, pulled his gaze away from his audience and returned it to his instrument. Mirror's heart froze. Stunned, she simply existed for a minute or too. She couldn't bring herself to speak. She could hardly bring herself to think. Once she mustered the strength to do either, she presented Rose with a simple yet remarkably terrible idea.
"Introduce me." She murmured, her eyes flickering over to Rose.
"Please..." She mumbled, composing herself.
"Please, could you introduce me to the Flutist? I want to... But I... I mean, I know how to, but when I try I... I..." The elegance with which the partygoer had once spoken had long since been submerged beneath a sea of nervousness and self-doubt.
"I can't do it alone. I know, we've only just met. I know, I'm being childish. I know, it's sad. But you're the only person I've spoken too all night who seems to be on my wavelength... You get me. So please... Lend me a hand?"
@Minerva