Ysillith, with the aid of some of the Theartre's 'Bouncers' manages to make enough space for Drake to slip through the throng and past the third set of inner doors which lead up towards the corridors behind the hugher class seats. Ysillith nods in thanks to the men, and one other woman, who've helped her before she starts off to catch up with Drake.
"10 pfennigs a fumble, I'd wager." he sneers, plucking a coin from his straining trousers and flicks it at her. It bounces off her chest and falls to the floor with a tinkle. There's a gasp from Eliza.
"If we weren't at the Opera, I'd demand satisfaction." Cassie says with fury in her eyes.
"Of course. I'm sure you'd satisfy any man." he lips his flabby lips and 'tashe.
"Whereas, I doubt you could ever satisfy any woman." she cuts him down archly.
Taraz visibly pales at the Rashida's pronouncement. Any certainty he may have had drained away.
They are too close, he thought. The only way to be certain at this time...would be one of no return. A medical scan would be the only way, and he knew they didn't have time for that. Andrezi would be waking soon, and Taraz needed to cleanse this place.
Looking away from the Rashida, he says, "You are correct, I do love the other you. I have destroyed all others like yourself housed in this room. With much pain in my heart and a memory that will never fade. Perhaps foolishly, I have readily walked into this trap of von Ryuko's and I cannot proceed with your destruction until I can know for certain." Taraz stricken expression says everything.
"Go," he says hoarsely. "Go now and flee this place." He points towards the door. "If..." He takes a deep breath. "If you are the cause of any harm to anyone on this island as you depart...you will suffer greatly. For surely whatever you know of the Rorensons, our capacity for cruelty is certainly legendary. Do not mistake my words." A terrible light shines in Taraz's eyes which still do not look directly at the woman in the room.
"Go now. And leave me no regrets...Rashida."
|Mimi Von Sollier|
Ralph puts himself between Cassie and the overweight man putting his hand up indicating he should stop he then shows him the paper Cassie gave him earlier.
After having given the man a chance to read the note he waves with his hand to indicate the man is dismissed, or perhaps to tell him to get lost.
|The Teller of Tales|
Heimel face turns crimson and mottled in rage. He looks to the nimble youth, the older man's head vibrating and his moustache speckled with spittle. He exhales sharply, a miasma of alcohol lingering upon the smell of his subtle halitosis. "I have never been so insulted..." he blusters.
Turning to leave; "You have earnt the enmity of the der Justica's. We won't forgive this affront." There he turns with a wake of squeaking as his shoes thump across the floor.
|The Teller of Tales|
At the sight of the strapping Captain fully bedecked in her beautiful clothing. They realise they do not quite match up....yet. Most of them back away, whilst one lady leans forward and gives him a peck on the cheek with a quiet whisper.
"Later Joey!" she bounces away with a wink.
The woman around them back off, forming a rough semi-circle near the wall watching for a sign to approach. Thus the pair are left alone to do as they will. Waiters wander the floor offering a drink to the pair.
Ysillith watches the social butterflies flutter away, though her dark amber gaze meets their stares and glares fully. She turns to Drake,
"Well...be there anything else ye in't telling me?" She inquires quietly, as she offers an arm and they begin to move towards the third set of inner doors which are the boundary to the stairs which lead upto the more expensive booths.
"If some thing jumps out and spreads ye all over the place, I at least want t'be able to say t' ever one else I did me best in trying to prevent it." She adds, "Yer mate, Von Rookoo, he plays nasty and sharp." Ysilliths gaze hovers upon Drake,
"Though, I be thinkin' that be somat ye're aware of."
"Well?" he says. "Were his words truthful?"
Vlad spit. His helmet's bristle seemed to match the puffed up fur of his tail. It was shaped like that of a Roman Centurion's headpiece and with his mad eyes, made the helmetcat look very much imposing.
"If his words are true, he should be killed immediately! I volunteer."
Ophelia shook her head. Her helmet had been crafted to look like the headdress of a Persian princess, that long forgotten nation slaughtered in the Rydonxis Conflict of 1834. The strange neuromesh that made up the portion that would be the veil swished back and forth with a whisper of sound. Her eyes flared golden again as she looked at her mate.
"No, he must live for now. His hatred of Kittington will serve us well in the end. But if Kittington really has captured the ability of song..." Her eyes flicked to Roren narrowing dangerously.
"Yes, that would be a problem," Roren said. "But if I can extrapolate from other things of his tale, Kittington has either not realized the power she has uncovered or she has somehow blocked herself from knowing it. And wisely so. If the memory had been there, we would have had it long ago in the chronon dataspace."
Roren fell silent and watched the battle spread out on the plains below. The Romans were defeating the barbarian tribes. Their orderly ranks easily repelling the disorganized and wasteful attacks of the undisciplined horde.
"I want her!" Ophelia hissed. "Kittington has long been a thorn in my side even if indirectly. I will make her rue the day she meddled in my affairs."
"Aye," Vlad chuckled. "And I have long wished to try my claws against O'Malley. I have no doubt of my victory, but I would quell the whispers that he is my better in battle. His death would be sure to bring Kittington in line."
Roren contemplated the helmetcats' anger. Vlad was ever the sparkplug quick to deal bloody death, but Ophelia's venom was not so easily won. Far below, a murder of velociraptors circled a young triceratops intent on their meal. He could almost hear the tail lashing as the helmetcats waited for his response. Roren turned and looked at Ophelia. She sat still as a statue, golden eyes intent on him.
"I give you leave to investigate her. Now that she has taken up with my son and that young Massri girl, we must move carefully. Somehow I suspect that what happened at Enigma Perfetto was part of a larger design. And the von Ryukos have ever been...troublesome to us. We will proceed cautiously." Vlad hissed at this. "Now now, Vlad. I will give you some leeway. If you perceive a threat, you have my permission to eliminate it."
Vlad gives a mrowring chuckle. Roren glances down at the valley below as the army of replicants marches on Neuschwanstein.
"Is it tea time already?" Roren checks his pocketwatch. "Well then, let us go and make ready for our visitors. It would never do to keep the Assassin Clan Family Heads waiting, would it?"
In smooth contrast, the helmetcat with the ocean waves gazes at them expectantly, its eyes devoid of judgment. Knowing what it is waiting for, Vorian reaches into his coat pocket, before coming to a realization. “I appear to have misplaced my ticket!” he claims overdramatically, knowing full well that he had never taken one to begin with. A slight shift in the helmetcat’s expression indicates its dire disapproval. Chuckling profusely into a raised finger, Eleanor waves away the noble’s worry.
“Oh dah-ling, you’re not getting away from me that easily!” she exclaims teasingly, reaching into her bosom and extracting two tickets between her fingers, “I told you that I had us covered, did I not? I would only have the best for a magnificent pair such as us!” Handing the tickets to the helmetcat, they receive two pins in return.
“Please pin those onto your clothing; they must be on your person at all times,” the wave cat encourages in drab monotone, “They will adapt to your fashion accordingly. Please enjoy the show.”
“Oh, isn’t it splendid, Vorian?” Eleanor asks, showing off the pin suggestively placed on the embroidery on the middle of her chest, “Oh look, it became a kitty! Aw, isn’t it precious?”
At last unable to restrain a sigh, Vorian looks down at the pin, deciding to pocket it for the time being. For some reason, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see what it would turn into. Together, the two continue their way into the opera house, Eleanor continuing to chatter throughout their travel.
Cassie looks relieved that the man has left, her shoulders sag. "I'm sorry you saw that Eliza. I have never met him before this morning."
Eliza shrugs, slightly squirming in discomfort at the scene. She's used to being on stage but that's another persona. "It's alright men like that..." she shakes her head.
Our of the corner of her eye the French-woman spots Vorian with a larger buxom lady. Cassie puts up her hand and waves across the crowd to the Gentleman with his cane.
Stopping by the large buffet table, with its load of finger food, Ysillith and Drake cannot help but notice the woman who's presence moves all before her as the waves of an incoming tide moves wading birds towards shallower waters.
Seeing Vorian upon her arm both Ysillith and Drake's mouths quirk in a slight grin. Then, when Ysillith and Drake catch each others expressions it is all they can do for a moment to partake of the h'ordeuvres on offer, Drake mumbling things quietly to Ysillith as he points out some of the finer creations and the name's of the chef's who've made them.
After a few moments, and still with a serving-bot carrying a tray piled with a selection, Drake and Ysillith move to join Cassie and hence possibly Vorian.
Drake is quite relieved when he is taken by Ysillith and a couple others out of the way of the adoring fans and is very appreciative of the help. By the time they are away from the crowd he is wiping his forehead with a cloth.
"Ha." He laughs about if he has any other secrets, "I really hoped no one would see me but faint luck there. I had done some opera work to gain money for my loans when I started working as a doctor and I am not sure if my role was good or bad for me. But, my dear, sweet protector, you have saved me all for yourself I see."
He chuckles as they go to the buffet and enjoys the expression that Ysillith gives him, "I do not believe there are any other notable things I have not yet told anyone but yes, this guy who is after my new friends is a difficult one I'm told."
The doctor looks to Cassie and blushes thinking of all the fans who were mobbing him and wondering what she would say. He eats an h'ordeuvres before speaking, "Cassie dear. I believe you have met my beloved savior." He jokes to take away the sting.
Cassie gasps; "You sang Opera!" she blinks away the awes being the fluttering of her fan. "It's one thing to heal to body, but to heal the soul as well."
She gives Ysillith a nod. "We'll see if Vorian wishes to come over here, or if he's happy with his Matron." she says with a soft shrug that sends a delightful bounce through her body and a glint of the pins.
Ralph sighs watching the large man walk away and sighs softly, then bows again to Miss Monstre. He nods to Ysillith and Drake in greeting and smirks towards Drake, but doesn't say anything about the crowd of women that had swarmed him.
Turning to look when Cassie waves towards Vorian Ralph raises an eyebrow at the man's choice of date, but shrugs his shoulders, to each their own. He says quietly so noone other than their small group will hear "Well dat dame wouldn't be my first choice but s'long 's Ringo's happy all da power ta him. Minx, what was dat ting ya picked up b'fore?"
Ysillith continues to watch the surrounding people, her eyes roaming even as she stands relaxed and alert beside Drake.
"Vorian does be one of th' group, no?" Ysillith remarks to Cassie, Drake and Ralph. Her dark eyes take in the form and figure of the person to whom Cassie and Drake were speaking to but a moment before, sweeping up and down the singer's dress before she looks off into the crowd again. Her brass staff resting easily tucked into one shoulder.
"Come now, Vorian! The show is going to start soon!"
The gentlemanly lead the noble had taken is quickly besmirched by the Dowager's excitement. She practically drags him behind her as he attempts to keep up with the woman, who despite her size, proves to be rather quick on her feet. It is through sheer luck that Vorian catches a glimpse of Cassie through the crowd of nobles. Well, I suppose she would be rather hard to miss... With a small yet genuine smile, he manages to pull away from Eleanor.
"My apologies, Eleanor, but I had best head to the washroom before the show starts. It would be a shame if I had to leave during the show!"
The Dowager pouts at him profusely, but quickly abandons the ruse, opting to let out a robust chuckle. "Oh well now, do hurry then, darling! You don't want to miss the start of the show, after all!" Turning tail, she walks off, giving him one last exaggerated wave. "Toodaloo!"
Waiting until Eleanor is gone, Vorian lets out a sigh of relief, before making his way towards the others. "I never thought I'd escape that woman's grasp," he says exasperatedly, before looking over his shoulder cautiously, "But I fear that I haven't seen the last of her..."
Ysillith simply nods as Vorian comes up and rejoins the group.
"Now, assumin' we in't had Rashida taken from us by Von Rookoo, we'll all be here, right?" She glances over to where their mechanica-cat has been sitting imperiously upon a suitably adjusted lectern watching all come and go before her and interacting nobly with any who seek her presence. Ysillith, though watching the opera singer form a corned of one large, dark amber eye says to Vorian,
"Ye want I make yer lassy galleon go away?" She smirks, one hand gently caressing the brass staff nestled against her shoulder.
Rashida stares at the tortured man for a long while with a mixture of horror and sympathy. "I... I am Rashida Massri," she finally whispers, "I won't hurt anyone. But you... you seem like a decent man. I don't know who -- or what -- it is that you love, but be careful." She backs slowly away from Taraz and the inert Andrezi, blanching as she steps in a rivulet of gore and bloodies the dragging hem of her white dress.
At the doorway, she stops and looks around the chamber of horror as if to imprint it upon her mind for all time, then turns and flees in terror.
While the others mingle with other guests, the Duchess von Meowselsworth has other plans. "Jansen. Jansen!" The feline is walking where none of the noble guests are supposed to be, this is the place for the actors, the make-up artists.
A tall, fat man looks down at the little helmet cat in surprise, "Why if it is not the Duchess von Meowselsworth herself! My, to what do we owe the pleasure my dear? Surely you are not wanting to rejoin the company, I can do the pape-"
"No, nothing like that, Jansen," says the Duchess, hurriedly, "I cannot do such a thing anyway. That would put you at risk, unnecessary risk, and I do not wish to do something like that to you and the actors..."
Jansen's brow creases in concern, and the large man kneels down in front of the helmetcat. "Dear Kittington, what is it? I cannot imagine you making any enemies aside from that dreadful butler. What has happened to you that would have you so spooked?"
"Ah, but that is a long story... let me tell it to you..."
Cassie starts to answer Ralphs query about the wallet; as Vorian rejoins them. "Seems like you had your handsful with the Dowager." The French-woman had heard of her reputation and voracious appetites, somehow she was unsurprised that Vorian was the target of her interests.
The Ysillith's words cut through her thoughts her blood runs cold and hard; 'If he did then... I don't know what I'd do.' She blinks away the thoughts knowing they could not possibly be true, but the knawing worm of doubt eats at her vitals.
"I'll have to return this wallet to it's owner..." she says her voice slightly ashen without a touch of it's normal vivacity. Across the floor she wanders with whomever else in tow; the arrive before the coated kobald. "Sir, you wallet! I found it on the floor" she remarks proferring the item in question.
Because her voice has not recovered from the dark thoughts, even if the inspector had recordings of it the differences are subtle but noticeable. "I haven't taken anything." she replies honestly. 'In fact there's a little gift for later.'
"Admittedly, I would not have made it here in time without her assistance..." Vorian says reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder as though the massive woman could sneak up on him at any moment, "...but it is difficult to maintain gentlemanly conduct when she keeps... never mind." He looks to Ysillith and shakes his head. "Captain Ysillith was it? No, no, I don't think she'll prove to be enough of a problem for that. And despite appearances, she has the power to make us regret any such action..."
Ralph keeps his voice low when Vorian joins them "She's gettin a lol hot under da collar huh? Well glad ya were able ta make it on time Ringo." He grumbles a bit when Vorian talks about power "Dat's a problem wit dese hoity-toities, ya can't never do notin wit dem witout dem bringin deir 'hole hoity-toity family 'an whate'er infl'ence day gots inta it."
He goes along with Cassie when she leaves not about to have his date wander off on him. He looks curiously at the Kobold inspector, then hearing the difference in her voice puts a hand on her shoulder and leans in to whisper.
...Heimel Vaughn der Justicia was the last to arrive in Frau Gretel Stuptsmann's study. He harrumphed at seeing that Eleanor, Dowager Duchess of Montresor was already there. He supposed that bit of time wasted with that coarse trollop had affected his time table. He grumbled as he sat down in the chair near the door. Eleanor had taken the one by the steamfire in which he had planned to sit. Heimel liked that chair best as it was large and the arms didn't press up against his girth.
"By the sound of that agitation, I would say that our dear der Justicia has finally arrived. How fortunate are we," a thin voice in a chair facing the steamfire said. The contempt was dripping, and Heimel felt his blood rise. However, he knew better than to respond and kept his snarling reply under his breath. The voice continued, "We may begin."
Colored waves of heat emanated from the steamfire as the nippy chill from the lake had already begun to attempt its nightly invasion of the theater. The room was warm thanks to the colors, but Heimel had never really become comfortable with the strange manipulation of steam that stripped it's natural white to make rainbows.
Heimel could see Count Jeter Grimveldt and his wife Countess Natasha seated on the piano bench to the speaker's left. Both were expressionless as always. That annoying habit they had of blinking at the same time unnerved him. Eleanor cooed from her warm and spacious chair. Good gracious was she a rhino! Frau Gretel Stuptsmann sat in a large thronelike chair behind the desk from which she ran the theater. And on the right of the speaker was Master Reginald Ichorven, Officer of His Majesty's Service, Department of Otherwordly Citizens sat partially sprawled on a divan. That ever present smirk on his face really galled Heimel. A commoner who had only been able to get into this circle because he was at the right place to be bribed. He's insufferable good looks always turned heads, and many whispered his smooth tongue would win him the selection as Prefect of Friedrichshafen soon.
"Many of you are aware of why we are here, but for the sake of der Justicia, I will say it plain." Heimel ground his teeth.
"We are threatened. Someone has arrived unexpectedly. And we must act. Tonight."
Eleanor cried out in distress and held a meaty hand to her head. "Must there be unpleasantness tonight? I planned to allow a handsome gentleman to woo me. Perhaps you saw him when I entered? If action must be taken here, I may be too flustered to allow his pursuit."
Frau Gretel said, "Was it that well-suited gentleman with the silvery hair? I must say, if he is taken with you, you definitely shouldn't play hard to get, Eleanor." Frau covered her mouth as she let out a lady-like chuckle. The Dowager Duchess' chortle had absolutely nothing in common with "lady-like".
"Ladies, please. This is serious talk," the thin-voiced man said with impatience. "If this is handled badly..." The sound of swishing indicated fine hair moving probably as the speaker shook his head against a silk collar. "We must consider how to proceed."
"Ahem," Reginald coughed slightly. With a dazzlingly smile he said, "I have it on good authority that a certain unregistered Otherwordly Citizen is at the opera. My man remembers the giant gold walking staff the Devil Amazon was wielding. It's been sighted on the premises in the hands of a striking and tall woman. Considering the Devil Amazon came in off of the rift that opened, she may be part of that pirate rabble that always disrupts the research on the other end. Tell yourselves her appearance here is just a coincidence when we know they have arrived the same night. It just seems too...perfect."
Heimel didn't like the sound of that. He seemed to recall a woman holding a large metallic staff near that trollop and her mute date. He was warm and starting to sweat. He pulled a handkerchief from a tight pocket and began mopping his face.
"This performance of Don Giovanni cannot be disrupted! Frau Gretel said vehemently. "There are critical things at stake with the theater. The show will go on, so you're actions best not stop it all together."
The Count and Countess blinked in unison. Heimel jumped. Blustering, he blurted, "And what about the rumors of the Massri attending? You attempt to assassinate anyone, and if the Massri is harmed you could bring a lot of heat on us! My family is positioned! It wouldn't do for the Massris to know what has been happening at the facility! Let alone if the League finds out."
"Dear der Justicia, please calm yourself," the unseen speaker said. "I assure you the Massri will not be harmed. The Grimveldts have offered their best for this. And after all, how hard can it really be to eliminate them?" A slender hand is seen in a green velvet sleeve with a lace cuff at the wrist. It waves a dismissal. "Go now. Enjoy Don Giovanni. I doubt you will even notice the death of our...irritations."
Heimel didn't waste any time. He heaved his bulk from the chair and began to waddle from the room. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead. Twice now he had encountered that trollop and now this. He couldn't help but feel she was connected. Yes, yes, she must be. She was watching him. Von Ryuko's? No, probably a Mason. That wasn't good. Best to see that perhaps another elimination finished the night.
He wiped his face once more, his chest heaving from the effort of walking. And the sense of foreboding followed him through the halls.
Cassie whispers back, a light haunted look to her eyes.
Looking at Clousuk, she nods her head. 'I'll enjoy playing with this fellow, just like old times sake. Maybe it will give me a thrill, this town is bringing back to many memories. Well, at least I have some distractions....' she squeezes Ralphs bicep lightly in gratitude.
"So Inspector, here to enjoy the music or catch some dastard? I heard that there was a vile criminal in town?" she queries softly.
Her university days here had been no better, the constant bodyguard presence off-putting to others. Though finally freed of the prison of the Massri compound, she'd had to display proper disdain for the rest of the world as the family expected, or be pulled back and scrubbed from the program. Only in the past day or two, alone and wrapped in plain clothing, had she ever been treated like a commoner. It was oddly freeing but very strange to be ignored.
Being a Massri was always lonely, but sometimes very useful - like tonight. Tonight, she would turn heads and attract attention to where it needed to be - away from the Phantom and its passengers and onto her. She knew many in town would spring to her defense should anything threaten, and better strangers die for her than the people she needed alive. She understood Taraz's actions now, setting up the appearance of a group divided to minimize the idea that they were acting in concert.
The orchestra had certainly started tuning by now, and the curtain would be rising soon. The ladies needed to hurry in order for her to be gowned and at the Opera House by intermission.
|Clousuk, Kobold Investigator|
Clousuk is examining a clockwork display which has several small figurines moving around what appeared to be the comedy of Hamlet. Clousuk thinks its that scene where Ophelia goes mad with desire and hunts Hamlet down through the castle with a poisoned blade while espousing her undying love. Richard had run off again, Clousuk could hear him sputtering apologies it sounded like. Richard would have liked this display.
He hears a human woman's playful tone. It seems close by.
"Sir, you wallet! I found it on the floor."
Clousuk wondered aloud, "What fewl would comes to ze Oper-ha wizout paying attenshun to hiz wal-lette?
Clousuk felt a tap on his shoulder. Richard was there with a long-suffering expression. He gestured slightly to the side where a dazzling human woman was addressing him. There is something very familiar about her...
Seeing she now has attention, the lady speaks again,
"So Inspector, here to enjoy the music or catch some dastard? I heard that there was a vile criminal in town?"
Suddenly, Clousuk notices the proffered wallet. It looks like his! "Squraaaag!" he squawks in surprise. And the woman just said there was a vile villain loose! Oh no! A villain in the opera house who was already playing games of cat and kobold with him by trying to steal his wallet!
He spins quickly to retrieve the billfold. His tail meanwhile whips around and knocks loose a cable under the clockwork display. The now unattached cable vents a small dose of color steam on him, and Clousuk's suit coat and hat is now a riot of rainbow colors. Sveral people around them begin to laugh heartily. Richard groans behind him.
Feeling ridiculous, Clousuk attempts to salvage his dignity with a small flick of a clawed digit to help dislodge some orange on his great nose.
"I meant to do zat. For ze comdeie, or course."
Richard has produced a handkerchief and begun to dab at the blue on Clousuk's hat producing little puffs of color. Clousuk swats angrily at him and snatches the handkerchief. He than proceeds to almost nonchalantly pat at the loose color not already drifting away or evaporating.
"Zank you, Madame. You are most kind and very zmart to come to moi pour protectshi-on. If you are afraid of zis villain, I would be happy to ezcort you tonight."
Ralph's eyes widen a bit when he hears Cassie call the small over-coated man an inspector, but he tries not to show the shock reminding himself that the chances this inspector was after him were very low. Seeing that the inspector is a rather clumbsy sort and doesn't seem terribly competent he relaxes further 'They must have given up looking for me by now... who am I kidding they'll never give up I'll always be hiding.'
Hearing the inspector say he'd be happy to escort Cassie, Ralph doesn't say anything but shakes his head, then pats her hand on his arm, and gives the Kobold a wink.
"What fewl indeed." she mutters under her breathe, virtually inaudible. She smiles at him a warm dazzling simpering at the inspector.
Cassie jumps back from the spray of colours with a nimbleness that belies her abilities. "How splendid you look simply marvelous, what a jest." she claps her hands together with a vacuous look in her eyes.
"No, no brave fellow. There are so many other people who need you so much more." she squeeze her arm gently; "I have this slip of a man to help me." Cassie squeezes Ralph hand whilst her eyes are downcast and sparkling; "Would you like to dance later, during the intermission perhaps. There was a horrid cad attempting to pay ladies for their...." she fans herself rapidly at the audacity.
|Clousuk, Kobold Investigator|
Clousuk notices the young man holding the pretty woman in a death grip of possessiveness. Zis one bears watching.
"If you muzt, Monsieur, you may accompany uz," Clousuk offers graciously.
"Ah! But forgive moi. I am Agent Clousuk of ze League of Ariztocracy Internal Review Committee." Clousuk sweeps his top hat off of his scaled head and bows to Cassie. Noticing some spots of color, he tries to casually shake them loose. Standing straight he turns his head slightly and gives Cassie a rather pointy tooth smile. Maybe it would have been dashing, but the rainbow color of his teeth make it comical.
Ysillith pays the small figure little mind. Even his development of added colour elicits no great reaction from her. The tall woman's eyes continue to take in the wonders of the theater house, occasionally she asks Drake about certain aspects of design or the story behind a piece of art.
"So...ye be havin' Gobbers here?" She asks quietly, indicating the small 'inspector', though she frowns a little, "Well..something that looks kind of like a Gobber.."
|Spirit of Pinvendor|
Ysillith has already noticed that as she blatantly stares at the crowd, many begin to stare back with hooded expressions. Some appear frightened while others angered by her frank perusals. She probably also notices the operamen who assisted in dispersing Drake's throng haven't really strayed too far away.
"The League...!?" Vorian mutters under his breath, eavesdropping on the kobold from a short distance away. He watches the small reptilian's conversation with Cassie, pondering the implications of its presence. What Hubert had told him had put him on the edge; the last thing they needed was to be acknowledged as fugitives. And yet, he could not bring himself to be worried - the Internal Review Committee had always been something of a bad joke. Besides, he thinks, he seems to be something of a moron.
The French-woman returns the politeness with a low curtesy that stetches the material of her dress, in all the right places (at least as any man is concerned).
"The pleasure is all mine." she says fluttering her eye-lashes at the kobold. "That must be a magnificent Agency to have you at it's Head, I assume. Reviewing things..."
"Is that like watching them, or would it be catching the Naughty Nobles. You look like a man-of-action not a voyeur." the dancer bites the knuckles softly, trying to keep the smile from her face.
|Clousuk, Kobold Investigator|
If his scales weren't already a reddish hue, Clousuk might have been blushing. Or maybe that was some of the colorsteam residue.
"I azhure, Madame, I am no voyeur. I only watch ze nobles in zecrit when zay haves zomezing to hide." It occurs to Clousuk, that may have not been reassuring. And possibly only reaffirmed the statement.
He makes some nervous chittering noises and then says, "Ah...what I meant wahz...I investigate secretz but only for zee self-satisfaction of zee League members." He putters again. "Zat iz to zay...for purpose of finding out zee nefarious zings...zoze zings zee people do in zee dark, under cover from zee nekkid eye. Uh...I am trying to zay..."
These fumblings continue until someone interrupts.
Cassie pats his arm reassuringly; "Well I can assure you I have nothing to hide." she leans forward into the police man, the soft pale skin peeking from underneath the dark silken material.
"Unfortunately, my escort is so impatient." she gestures to Ralph; "But Clousk we will dance at intermission?" Cassie asks wide eyed and innocent as she turns to leave.
~ ~ ~
Once away from the Inspector she bursts out laughing like a girl; "I needed that." she says to Ralph. "So much fun."
Drake watches all the actions of this inspector with great care while glancing at the others to see what they thought. He smiles at Ysillith as he notices the reaction of the crowds to her and smiles as he goes along with her trying to ignore the wondrous looks from the adoring fans.
"Now don't you go bursting a stitch with all that laughing, my dear. Remember to give into spurts of laughter to give the stitches an exercise so they stretch a bit. He is noticeably joking around with his new found friend.
"If you ladies like I can sing for you later at your wish. I am sorry to not have said anything earlier about the comment of healing the soul but if you wish later on at your wish I can sing both of you lovely ladies a song or two. Yet, I do see that we should be taking our seats as they are readying the stage."
Drake walks Ysillith to her seat and bows to let her sit first then sits beside her, "I really wish you could have left your horns out but that is beyond ability. They are quite lovely like yourself with a strong beauty."
Ralph smirks towards Cassie and talks quietly when she laughs "An ol' flame per'aps Minx? Should I be je'lous?" He teases then looks over his shoulder towards the inspector "'Spector fer da league... da Joe seems lika buf'oon but da fuzz makes me ner'ous all da same."
He looks towards Drake when the man suggests they get to their seats and nods "Charlie's right, best we git ta our seats I don' wanna draw 'ttention standin 'round when da op'ra starts." He puts an arm around Cassie's waist and motions for her to go ahead of him.
|The Teller of Tales|
The wide open auditorium is magnificent in it's opulence. Truly this will be a night to remember, the lights remain up whilst the arrayed nobility and aspiring merchants take their seats. The smartly suited ushers escort individuals to their seats, whilst Serv-bots come around with refreshments. Those in the boxes have personal waiters that serve the finest of wines.
Surrounded by ornately marble columns with veins of pink running through it to create a soft effect on the hard stone. Unifying the high-ceilings to create a grandiose but luxuriant feel, not at the expense of the acoustics. In the air floats soft beings; which remove the echoes of the stage. Softly eating the sounds and dulling the low hum of the arriving gentry. The atmosphere is heavy with anticipation as the viewers whisper in low excited voices.
Plush dark carpets meticulously cleaned match the dark upholstery of the wide beamed chairs, each with their own rests and the polished brass fittings shine. The soft satin will mold into the ultimate comfort rounding around the contours of the body and making sure not to crease the clothing.
The stage is lined with spirit lamps casting a kaleidoscope of shadows and colours. The light's hue flickering and changing by the directors unseen hand. The wane light currently illuminates just the heavy red velvet curtain, behind this the magic happens.
Ysillith takes note of Drake's comment and, while it does produce a rueful smile from herself, she also 'tones down' her attitude towards the other patrons.
"So, where be th' places our group'll be pantin' their..." Catching a glimpse of Drakes features even as her mind catches up with her mouth Ysillith pauses.
"Um...so, yeah, lead on, lead on." She offers her arm and allows Drake to steer her in the right direction.
With a slight brush of Ralph's arm she smiles; "Old flame? His presence is illuminating and fun." Half turning she runs a finger across the line of his jaw; "So you don't like a little fuzz?" letting out a rich throaty purr.
Turning she glides ahead of him, the creamy expanse of her back exposed to his gaze with the dress emphasizing the low curve. Moving in front of her date, the roll of her hips draw the eye and take the breath with a promise of the future. A spill of gold down her back as the golden threads of necklace are taut around her neck.
The French-woman takes her seat, eyes intent upon the stage. For the moment she isn't the femme fatale but a rapt young lady, breathless with anticipation.
With a tragic sigh, Vorian looks to the corridor. Into the Inferno, then. Mustering all of his willpower and courage, he makes his way towards the rambunctious voice. He could not let his reputation as a perfect gentleman be tarnished by his petty misgivings! I could certainly use a glass of wine right about now...
"Right here, Eleanor!" he calls out, having miraculously rekindled his false enthusiasm. Approaching the Dowager Duchess, he bows. "Now then, shall we be off?" With not a sign of hesitation he takes her hand and escorts her to her box, where they settle down into their seats. As though on cue, a waiter emerges from the shadows, holding a silver platter with a pair of wine glasses upon it. He holds it out to them almost robotically, offering them the beverages.
Vorian almost eagerly lays claim to one, before leaning back in his chair. This was going to be a long night.
"I think it may be a long night." Drake says to Ysillith as he sits beside her then cocks his head slightly to the side, "I wouldn't have taken you for the opera type. Not that I am. As you've seen I try to avoid it as much as possible."
He smiles at the captain and leans back, "We are a bit too spread out, don't you think?" He mentions curiously.
Ysillith does nod at Drake's assessment.
"Aye, well I were going to use that as an excuse fer gettin' out an' about durin' the show." She replies.
"Never been t' anything like this afore. So I've no idea what to expect." She uses the box's elevation to peer down at the 'general' seating, as well as those few boxes that can be seen from where they are situated.
"So...when d'they start with the killin' of people?" She asks absently...
Drake gives Ysillith a sad eyed look of a man taken from his main thrills, "Never? Oh my. I'm afraid there is no killing of people until here," He points to a spot on the paper he'd picked up, "And later here. Nothing flashy or such I assure you. There is a big fight ah ... here and then the most boringly long love song I have ever heard and them trying to get it more exciting about here. We are in for a love-in show, m'darlin'. I should have picked up comic books and a flash light." He grins amusedly meaning it more for himself than her but he would have shared.
"For many high class, or basically people who have money to burn, yes it does seem to be a semi-regular thing." He looks over at her and smirks, "It's what Squirrel would probably call a hoity toity attitude showing off how much money the rich have and he'd be right in many points on that. On the other hand, some people do like this kind of stuff. Usually women like the one who snagged poor Vorian. He should have stuck with ... anyway."
He grabs some champagne on the way past them and hands her a flute glass, "Here's to not fully understanding hoity toity." He toasts her, "Even if I am ... so to speak."