The baron bows deeply before Rashida Massri.
"Most Holy, it would be an honor and a pleasure."
He leads the Egyptian to the dance floor, where once again he displays that strange remnant of grace.
After a few minutes of watching Kimefe and Cassie dancing Bors slowly stands up and approaches the two, very fine women during a break in between songs. "My apologies Ms. Kimefe, but I must ask if I may steal Ms. DuSollier from you?" Bors then turns to Cassie " And of course I must ask if Lady DuSollier will dance with me in the first place, no?"
"Of course; Monsieur Zadaa, it will be a pleasure." Cassie says to him, turning to the beautiful Kimefe; "I am sure now you will have no shortage of partners, your beauty is like the moon. Luna-imous"
Taking Bors hand she smiles as they move into another pass; "how would you like it classical, modern? Slow or Fast?" she winks.
"I suppose you may, Mr. Zadaa.
"Perhaps someone else would like to dance with me..." Kimefe leaves i=the invitation open, she skirt swishing on the floor as she continues to sway to the music.
"I think once again, as per Professor Devries's suggestion, I shall withhold my vote. I would suggest that the lovers come forward to Ms. Devries so that their love may be celebrated and not feared: It increases the probability that they should both survive, so long as we extend that immunity for coming forward. I would suggest that Professor Devries share the information with her Masonic partners, and any assassin stay his or her hand," says Meowselsworth, glancing up towards the clock and then hopping up onto one of the empty tables, laying down on her paws. "If any would like to offer me pets before the hour concludes?"
"Ms. Kimefe, I propose a dance followed by pets," says the Duchess.
"I suppose you may, Mr. Zadaa.
"Perhaps someone else would like to dance with me..." Kimefe leaves i=the invitation open, she skirt swishing on the floor as she continues to sway to the music.
"It would be an honor, Ms. Kimefe. I have been rather focused on the investigation, and abit of relaxtion would be enjoyable."
Ingilstadt walks slowly to the tables, breathing heavily after the dance with Cassie. That woman's endurance is amazing, and she still dances, what fortitude!
Retrieving another glass of wine, Ingilsatdt approaches Rashida. "You speak with wisdom holy one, for history often shows us the solution to our current problems. I will consent to this plan of no lynching and allow the detectives among us to do their work." Raising a glass in toast to Rashida, Ingilstadt drains it completely and then refills with the closest bottle on the table.
Turning to Taraz, Ingilstadt is glad for the mask that hides the smirk. "Wastrel, let me summarize you statements; you are active in these discussions because you been slapped multilple times, you are attentive according to a zombie, and you display your courtly education by insulting others and leering after any woman that jiggles. It is no wonder that your father wants you assassinated, in less than two hours you've tarnished the Wastrel family name, I hate to image what a disgrace you've been over the years."
Taking another long sip from the wine, Ingilstadt walks closer to the Wastrel, clearly willingly to ignore civility in regards to the lout.
"I find it curious that in my home country your name spelled backwards would be a perfect description for you, Za Rat, I can hear my country folk calling you that now, framed by the sound of another slapping, which appears to be the only actual contact that you have with women."
Another long sip from the wine glass, as the wine continues to flow the civility flows away from Ingilstadt and a mean side pushes its way to the surface.
Meowselsworth's ears perk up at Ingilstadt's speech to Taraz. "Hmm, there is no reason to not be civil, M. Ingilstadt, even if Lord Taraz is a touch crude, there is no reason to stoop to that same point of hostility. I suspect that soon hostilities shall run high enough without aid, should these assassins have their way..."
Taraz laughs. "Of course, you choose to forget that regardless of what has been said and done, I still draw attention. Both publicly and privately. As you chose to answer my private communique with nothing short of a dismissal of my concerns, you may not be aware that it is my insight and not my behavior which is respected. It is insight and the ability to keep one's cool which will see one alive through the end of this party. But don't mistake those things with friendhsip. That is the sure way to trusting the wrong kind at this party."
"I can only imagine you must be one of the Dame's bootlickers. Your outrage smells the same." Taraz turns to Alessandra, "My compliments to you. You have trained your dogs well."
"But enough of chastising your children. It's time for the adults to talk, and I imagine this conversation will be most enlightening."
Taraz focuses his full attention on the Dame.
Kimefe accepts both proposals for dancing, and completes each in turn. She then takes a break to get some food and wine.
"Your accusation that the Professor and Meows were conspiring against us from the beginning," Ingilstadt waggles the wineglass in Taraz's direction, "was a complete failure of logic. If they had an alliance it would have been that of Masons, not assassins, a point you still fail to comprehend with your so called insight. If there were not a Mason requesting that we hold our votes, I would certainly cast mine for you, wastrel."
Ingilstadt finishes another glass of wine in a single long gulp, then wavers with uncertain balance before striding towards Taraz, the lumbering steps bespeaking violence. And it is a violent reaction, as the strides carry on past the wastrel to the far end of the table where the wine glass goes clattering down and, in a moment of irony, a serv-bot rushes to the rescue from under the table with a bucket that Ingilstadt promptly fills with vomit. Dropping into a seat at the far end of table away from everyone, the violent purging continues for minute, then subsides. Forehead resting on the edge of the table, Ingilstadt breaths heavily while still clutching the bucket as serv-bots scurry about cleaning the errant splatter.
As she dances, Rashida watches curiously to see which restroom Ingilstadt retreats to to recover.
"Under two hours, Baron. Earlier than the usual party disaster. And frankly, not the person I would have expected to cause one, though Ingilstadt doubtless has a less practiced liver than some other guests," she remarks to Von Zombi.
"Frankly, I have refrained from drink. Nobody likes a drunk helmet cat," says Meowselsworth, idly.
"Do you need a refill, Dutchess?" Rashida curtsies to Von Zombi and limps slightly to her seat, to affix an ice bandage to the foot and join the helmet cat. "Let me pour you a refill. I need a break from dancing. Perhaps some pets while we watch the dancers and the other entertainment." She looks pointedly from Inglestadt to the tete a tete between the Mason and the Wastrel to the dancers, refilling Dutchess Moewselsworth's bowl and offering her lap as a seat for the fluffy noble.
"Aha, I think that sounds like a lovely idea, Your Holiness Rashida Massri," says the feline Duchess, sounding genuinely delighted. She hops up onto Rashida Massri's lap, looking at all the interesting happenings as well.
"So, are we to abstain from voting yet again?" Vorian says, arching an eyebrow, "Not that I am particularly opposed, mind you, but at this rate the only ones playing this game will be those in the shadows. I might wonder however whether the assassins would be so bold as to kill someone without our assistance."
"Oh a bit of each way." she flicks her hand to the band. The orchestra change the tune to an upbeat tempo. She puts a hand upon his hip and starts her latin style dance. The dress flicks as her hip pops, her other hand on his shoulder. To the ever more frenetic tempo she leads him, twirling around the floor. "Cool augments," she mentions "but can you keep up with this."
The pulsing beat of the band increases, Cassies hips follow the beat. Soon she breathes out deeply as the sheen of sweat covers her body and she breaks off. "Good dance."
Moving over to where she had left he bag by the table, picking it up she joins in the conversation slightly breathless; "So what's going on dears, Taraz causing more unrest. Well..."
"As the hour approaches, I fear paranoia will increase." Cassie gently rubs her brow, but quickly recovers from the exertions.
"Paranoia? Why, I don't know about that, madam. But I do hope that nobody allows their petty lacks of restraint to drive them to kill anyone. Why, poor Taraz here already has several that would like to see his head on a pike - whether it is because they think him to be an assassin is highly debatable."
"Well, that I believe." she looks across at Taraz, "I have no clue as to the identity of an assassin. Now the hour-hand turns, and we must make a decision. Lynch someone with little to go on but intuition or wait and see if the assassins strike." Cassie shakes her head disconsolately
"Indeed, it is Ingilstadt who causes unrest this time, Lady Dusollier. You should take a rest, dear."
"Fortunately, Lord Ritter, we seem to be mostly avoiding snap judgments, although certain pairings certainly have the potential."
Gigus takes a bow before Massri and the Duchess with a murmered thank you for the dance and apologies for the foot before taking a seat to himself, lost in thought.
Rashida rakes her long, gilt nails slowly through the noble feline's fur, paying extra attention to the spots she can reach under the collar and helmet. She sighs in contentment at the cool ice on her sore foot and the warm, purring feline in her lap and relaxes, watching events with half-lidded eyes.
"My dear Dutchess, if anything happens to you tonight - and if I survive - I would be pleased if you would allow me to inter your remains in the Temple of Bast, where your spirit may join with the divinity for all eternity," she murmurs to Meowselsworth.
"Hmm... if you truly want to test the extent of the Baron's cellars, might I recommend a Nikolaihof '99? It's from a vineyard near my father's lands and it would be nice now to be reminded of... happier times."
When the wines arrive Dame Devries samples the Kendall-Jackson and picks at her salad, then pours herself a large gspritztn with the Austrian vintage, settling in close to Taraz so they can take advantage of what privacy the small table affords.
"Dogs? How uncharitable of you. I think you've earned all the outrage that's been directed your way, and then some. Now, let's get down to brass tacks..."
She leans closer and begins to speak softly in Taraz's ear, the whispered conversation an oddly (and completely unwelcome) intimate experience with the wastrel.
"Well, I see Ingilstadt is ill? I think we need to have furthe discussions if we are to reach consensus." Cassie Looks around the group. "I just want to dance the night away, with all of you. Now, who wants to dance...."
She holds out her hand for any partner to join her, to dance in the new hour.
Taraz's expression becomes a fine neutral, his usual smarminess not in evidence. As the lady in black whispers in his ear, one could easily imagine them as two power players in a king's court negotiating very delicate words of law.
The two seem deadly serious and talk while occasionally remembering to eat.
"If the Lady Mason believes that another hour will give her and her union a chance to identify an assassin, then let's wait. Gerenally, I would urge action, I don't like the idea of sitting here waiting to be assassinated... but if the Masonic Union thinks it's a good idea to wait, then I say we wait."
Jin looks over at Ingilstadt and chuckles to himself, and that is one of the reasons I switched to water.
"Lord Jin, your analysis makes sense. I believe I will again vote for no lynching."
The zombie casts a concerned look to Ingilstadt.
"Are you quite alright, friend Ingilstadt? Need you any assistance?"
The zombie lord strides to Ingilstadt, beckoning a waiter to bring along a fresh carafe of water.
"I appreciate your offer, Your Holiness Rashida Massri," says the feline Duchess, purring with her eyes closed at all the attention, "I believe Lord Taraz should know how to initiate the part of the process that passes my consciousness down to my kittens, as well as sending out funeral invitations, without actually vaporizing my body. I can print off instructions, as well. I just think many people would find my corpse unnerving to look upon."
Taraz's expression fades from the usually arrogant and boorish one he maintains. Now his face seems as much a mask as the black eyecover he wears. A seriousness generates from him, and one would think he and Alessandra were two members of a king's court arguing the finer points to a delicately worded law.
The conversation seems intense, and occasionally the pair remember to eat as it is the pretense for their contact.
"Lord... Lord Taraz?" Rashida stutters to Meowselsworth in some confusion. "Well then, I suppose he can assist if need be. I assure you, even death could not rob you of your beauty, Dutchess. Of course, my people are perhaps more accustomed to death than others. Still, it is nothing I wish for. I pray you return to your kittens."
She watches the undead noble attend to the mysterious androgyne. "Well, Baron, has Ingilsworth managed to rob the assassins of their first kill by doing himself in with drink? Do you need any aid?"
"Duke Leto, I hope you are right, that this is all a mistake, and that we are all friends. But I fear someone will be taken from us this hour. We cannot get so lucky twice."
"Most, Holy, it simply appears that 'Ingilsworth' is a bit worse for drink. I am assured that 'Meowselstadt' is in no danger either?" the zombie deadpans.
"I shall allow the good waiter to finish ministrations; I think that best, this close to the hour mark."
"Perhaps I should switch to cream, Baron." Rashida looks a bit befuddled.
"It is Lord Taraz's family that manufactures the helmets that my kind wear," explains the Duchess, "I would think that he would understand their function better than most present."
"Ah, I see! I was unaware. Thank you for the enlightenment. But enough of this morbid talk. Perhaps Lord Jin would care to instruct us on the finer points of 'Mah-Jong' so we may have a game later." The snake on Rashida's wrist shifts slightly and she unconsciously starts tapping her unwrapped toe.
"Coincidentally, recent cellular studies conducted on the bones of ancient Egyptians of the working class showed that something in their diets provided them with a substance very structurally similar to a modern antibiotic; experiments in replicating their brewing methods proved that it was their unique beer," the Baron intones as he clumps back to his table.
"Drinking it through a straw keeps the flotsam out..." Rashida says weakly, watching the clock tick its way to the hour.
The tone of the clock signals Hour 2.
Everybody looks around nervously to see if anybody has died. You can cut the tension in the room with a knife. Yet surprisingly after a moment of silence, everybody concludes that again nobody has died in hour 2.
Eichorn Von Ryuko shouts from his perch:
Rashida bursts out laughing.
"Excellent humor, your Holiness! I must say, either the masons are truly of a tactical and devious mindset, or the assassins are quite incompetent. Well, that or whatever they have planned, it's truly spectacular. I think this has been a worthwhile trip."
Once again Vorian snaps his pocket watch shut, sighing with indignation at Von Ryuko's words.
"His words are harsh, but surely there is enough information among the lot of you by now to make a proper accusation," he says, stuffing the silver watch into his coat pocket, "Because clearly the assassins are not going to make a move if we do not. There is nothing more that we can gain from merely waiting."
"I still live. This is... well, quite an interesting turn..." says Meowselsworth, nuzzling Rashida's hand, "And if the assassins are not making a move until we do... Well, then we have an advantage. If I must be here for twenty four hours or even longer to prevent from spilling innocent blood... Well. I am fine with this."
Rashida chokes down her laughter after a few moments and calls over a waiter for some wine. Raising her glass, she offers, "To the Masons!" and drains the glass to the dregs. Examining the empty goblet musingly, she suddenly hurls it against the wall, shattering it into gleaming splinters.
"I should stop breaking things."
The zombie suddenly roars at the balcony and Ryuko, the blue eyes in his half-mask blazing.
At the table with Alessandra, Taraz guffaws loudly at the Baron von Zombi's outburst. Standing, Taraz announces, "Oh indeed, dear Barons." Taraz emphasizes the 's' greatly there. "I must say, despite your own dismay, Baron Eichorn von Ryuko, I myself am greatly relieved by your second announcement and once again I drink to you!" Taraz downs the glass of Nikolaihof '99 he was enjoying in one shot.
"Come everyone! Let us dance in celebration that we few attend the greatest party ever devised!" With that Taraz quite assuredly sweeps the delicate lady in black from her chair, and before she even realizes what has happened, Alessandra finds she is dancing a lively foxtrot with the notorious wastrel Taraz.
Vorian chuckles at Rashida's destructive display.
"It is fortunate that Von Ryuko was kind enough to allow Lord Rorenson's machines on board," he says, amused, "I fear we would be walking on glass otherwise."
"Oh, I am entertained alright! Watching your antics from the sidelines is making me wand to repeatedly bash my head against the wall! A pack of skilled chimps would have an easier time weeding out 3 Assassins and a Traitor from amongst your numbers than you Blue Bloods!"