"On the floor, or off it?!" Cassie asks not realising any possible double-entendre.
"Sorry, busy," Rashida murmurs to Cassie as she takes the floor with Taraz again.
". . . dancing, Madame DuSollier. Dancing," the Baron says, shaking his head and trying not to laugh.
"Always good to have your dance card full, mon-ami." Cassie mentions as Rashida is whisked away for another incredible performance.
She taps her glass to the Barons', with a shrug. "I do think that this is one of the more interesting parties I have been too. Although I do think that hiring assassins just to create entertainment is slightly gauche."
The Baron leans over and whispers briefly in Lady DuSollier's ear, then throws his head back and lets loose a great guffaw at his own joke.
"...and that's what the nun said." Cassie finishes.
"You must have had quite the experiences, what with the fingers and everything." Cassie asks. "I heard of a Professor Fronk-in-steen' that did marvellous work in re-animation, with a Dr West."
"You must have had quite the experiences, what with the fingers and everything." Cassie asks. "I heard of a Professor Fronk-in-steen' that did marvellous work in re-animation, with a Dr West."
"As I mentioned before, my experiences, as you put them, are clouded at best."
He tips his head to one side, looking thoughtful.
"If my private theory (that I lose more memory and physical strength every time I die) is true, then I most certainly have died a lot."
"Probably doing something awfully amazing," she starts to simper, "well better than amazingly awful." she turns it into a sharp joking remark.
With a little roll of her neck, "I wonder if we can refresh your memory with a little science. I have heard that people can relive their past lives through hypnosis." She produces a gem pendant?!
"Hypnosis?" repeats Meowselsworth, feline hearing allowing her to eavesdrop more than is likely appreciated, "I have always become too distracted by shiny things swinging in front of me. I feel an irresistable urge to bat them."
"Swinging things too I guess? You little scamp." Cassie jokes.
The baron chuckles at Cassie's suggestion.
"My dear Madame DuSollier, what could your pendant teach you about me that your charm and wit have not already?"
Cassies' wide-eyed expression is open and honest; "Just a suggestion, I learnt it from a Fakir" she is very careful about pronouncing the word with her thick accent. "in the sub-continent. Thank you for your kind words."
"That reminds me, I once got into a battle of the wits with a French noble, but he didn't 'want to fight someone whose unarmed'."
"Is everybody ready to Wang Chung tonight?"
"I suppose that would be slightly better than Kung Fu Fighting, though with this looming threat of assassins it seems a Safety Dance would be more appropriate."
"I heard of a Professor Fronk-in-steen' that did marvellous work in re-animation."
"Yes, brilliant work indeed, like an art form it was, my appreciation has never faded for his fine work."
"Good to hear that his work has achieved recognition, Monsieur... or is it Madam?" Cassie asks Ingilstadt, with a polite nod.
"Why, Yes it is, thank you for your interest"
…a brilliant work indeed…
"We certainly agree on that, Igor--err, Ingilstadt." the zombie bows to Ingilstadt to cover his slip of the tongue.
"As much I love the pop culture references, tapes of human achievement go back many years. I would like to make a dramatic reading from over one hundred years ago."
Wowbagger reads with an accomplished voice.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
THE SECOND COMING
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Eicorn clears his throat loudly and the musicians cease play immediately.
"If I may direct your attention to the Grand Clock you will notice the hour has come to a close.
Eichorn's timing is perfect. The Grand Clock begins to chime at the top of the hour.
"Since we have come to a unanimous vote not to harm anybody, we will continue this charade until the Assassins have been purged. Unless you don't want your land that is..."
"In the meantime I'll have you know my servants have gone through your luggage. They have determined with quite some assurance that among the lot of you are:
3 Assassins (1 Head Assassin, 1Stalker)
1 Devil
5 Aristocrats
3 Masons
2 Banners
1 Investigator
Because some of the baggage has not been labeled we are unable to determine with any certainty who is who, but I assure you it is being looked after. Until then carry on."
"And our cause has been just, for no one has died in the first hour. A toast!"
Ingilstadt raises a glass in toast with the General.
The Baron nods in satisfaction and tips his glass to Ingilstadt and Gorski.
"A just cause perhaps," Vorian says, cradling a freshly filled glass of wine in his hand. He hands his cane off to a servant, who quickly scurries away, "But in the end, we have achieved nothing. The assassins would have had to be fools to kill someone regardless of this 'pact' of ours. The fact that they chose not to act means that they will not afford to kill unless we have the same resolve."
"Unless of course, they have already found each other, as I suggested they might earlier. In which case..."
"Ah! I'm still alive! I do not have hands to hold a glass, but in spirit, I am toasting too!" says Meowselsworth, rather pleased. "And if the assassins will not kill us until we start killing people ourselves, then I suggest we simply sit tight. Eventually, we will find out their identities. I do not think that is what is happening, though."
The dancers freeze when the music stops and all eyes turn to the host. After the tally is announced, Rashida looks around to room as if taking an unbelieving headcount, then sags against Taraz, gripping his arm tightly to keep from dropping.
"Aha! I am still alive! We all yet live! I am feeling like a rather clever cat! Not that I can take any credit for such things," says Duchess Meowselsworth II cheerily, "I certainly hope that this allegiance that has been formed is the cause for none dying this hour! Quite brilliant! And now we start again, with more information than previously."
As the clock chimes Cassie shocked drops her flute of dark wine, it falls through the air shattering upon the floor into an array of glass amongst the crimson fluid . A kaleidoscope of colours as the light hits the prisms of glass...
"Sorry, the situation just got to me." she reaches over to take another tray from the waiter to toast with the General with others.
She looks archly to Vorian; "You words are pert, yes, they might have found another. I am sure they may have tried, to kill someone."
Cassie flicks out her fan and wafts at her face; "Either they have been persuaded by our eloquence to give up their evil ways. Or one of their number attempted to and was stopped? I would think that the Dame coming out with her position might have made it easy to defend against."
Biting the end of her fan; "Or they found one and another?"
As Rashida is overcome with emotions, Taraz allows her weight to be supported by his arms. He watches her with a concerned look.
"Are you alright? Was the dancing too much?" Taraz places an arm around her side and helps her from the dance floor. "I believe there is a divan in this alcove where you may recover just over here." He hesitates for a moment. "Perhaps I presume...I would not want you to feel I am isolating you. We will only proceed if it is acceptable to you." Taraz eyes the golden snake "adornments" Rashida wears with no little trepidation.
Rashida takes up a glass of wine, but sets it down when the rich red fluid nearly sloshes over the rim from the agitation of her hand. She swallows hard. "Thank you, Lord Taraz, that is.. unexpectedly kind. Perhaps the wine, dancing, no food..." she replies faintly, "As long as we are within screaming range, I feel safe enough. And you will scream if it is necessary that my pets warn you off." The gilded serpents slither slowly around her wrists, ruby eyes glittering.
She allows herself to be led to the alcove, still leaning on Taraz as her knees threaten to fail.
Taraz and Rashida enter the alcove where Taraz assists Rashida onto the divan. Taraz gestures to a Serv-Bot and it rushes to him. He whispers some instruction and it runs off. Taraz pulls a diaphanous curtain across the alcove entrance, both he and Rashida's silhouette's still visible but now slightly obscured. He sits on an ottoman next to the divan and fans the golden scion.
Soon, a few Serv-Bots rush up to and through the curtain bearing a pitcher of water, a platter with several warm towels, and a bowl of fruit, crackers, and cheese.
Looking on with slight surprise, Cassie quirks an eyebrow and approaches the Dame Devries. "It seems your slap was not enough to cool his ardour."
|
"It might be so, the foul deed was discovered and prevented. If that is the case my compliments to the guardian angel in all future endeavors to protect us. If however a target was turned to an co-conspirator, then now we face even more assassins and their ilk."
"Perhaps they will let me alone long enough to woo one and all of these gorgeous ladies!"
With a delicate finger she brushes the edge of her domino mask, the harlequin pattern upon it shimmers in the ballrooom's light. She looks up to Lord Von Ryuko; she calls out in a loud voice to their host on the balcony.
"Then you had you men violate our luggage? I have a good mind to leave..." Cassie walks away towards the doors in a huff; before turning around an angry glint in her eyes. "No, I will not leave my new friends to your machinations."
She grabs a bottle of wine and tips her head back; drinking deeply and defiantly. Before turning to the Duke.
The general walks by Cassie, and in a loud voice. "You didn't expect to have your bags rummaged through? Standard practice at these affairs, I'd say. I'm more concerned on the inability to verify who's luggage belongs to whom. I always bring a few souvenirs with me, and I expect to have them returned when I leave."
"No, I did not," Cassie blushes furiously at the thought of their hosts goons going through her private items. "or at least it not be announced to one and all."
"However maybe a dance would calm my frustrations?" she holds out a hand for the General.
"It would be a pleasure," as the general takes Cassie's hand.
With a smile she moves onto the floor, with a wink to the watching nobles her other hand goes to the genius rear to give it a cheeky pinch. Then they take to the floor, despite her slight inebriation Cassie gracefully spins and glide around the slippery floor. She lets the General lead the way.
"I must say, you are fortunate I'm a man of honor. I have a distinct tactical advantage, both in your inebriation and my overwhelming charm." The general's dancing is proficient, though methodical.
"I wouldn't want to be out-flanked, especially by a greater force." Cassie shakes her head, she dances around General Gorski her flourishes providing an interesting counter-point to his own practical physicality.
she calls out in a loud voice to their host on the balcony.
"The thought of tricking nobles into killing Assassins, what a joke. My Lady, if I knew that there would be Assassins going after my awarded land I would have hired professionals to take care of the problem. Aristocrats make lousy killers. Why I bet the sight of blood would make a beautiful woman like you faint."
Cassie looks from the Generals shoulder and answers pointedly; "Just because if my birth and breeding do not insult me. Lady Rashida has her snakes; Ms Meowselsworth has her claws and I am sure Dame Devries has her own weapons. Being a woman does not make me a simpering girlie. Beside I have your strong arms to fall into General." Cassie's words are sharp; "As for breeding, the General here I am sure has killed many men, as probably had Andrezi in many Russian duels. Whilst the wastrel will have during many a drinking competition."
"That is some big talk my lady. I look forward to seeing how well you can back your words when it actually comes to dealing with the Assassins this hour. Will you be the one to cast the first vote? Will you kill your suspect yourself or have somebody else do it for you?
"My dear fellow, no that's not the word....my English... I mean excessive. Of course you do, I expect we are all drawn from The Society and you wish to see which individuals have been infiltrated?" Cassie guesses; "Now you wish to test my resolve? Shocking behaviour, from a host of your supposed quality."
"Aha! I am still alive! We all yet live! I am feeling like a rather clever cat!
The Baron hefts himself ponderously from his chair and stumps over to the feline Duchess, bowing.
"Indeed, Your Grace, we are all clever and lucky. Now let us hope that holds true for the next hour as well."
He then resumes his seat, eyes flickering between the conspiratinal huddle around the Mason, the hidden alcove, and the dance floor. He frowns slightly, deep in thought.
Looking to Ryuko, Vorian raises his glass, giving a shrug.
"I do hope that your men will at least be gentle with our luggage. I have many precious artifacts from around the world on my ship, some of them one of a kind. I fear that I may become crass should I learn that any of them have been permanently damaged. Assuming I survive this ordeal, of course.
Overhearing Ritter's comment, the zombie baron suddenly looks at him with renewed interest.
"My dear Lord Ritter, I had no idea that you were a man of taste. I suppose I am fallible, for I had lumped you in with Lord Taraz as a skirt-chaser and nothing much more. Please forgive my churlishness!"
The zombie bows.
"Pray, what sorts of natural history attract your keen interest?"