NPC Aron Carlisle's page

Seth looks around the room, keen to find anyone that looks suspicious. Most look rather sullen. They appear silent as they know not what to say or if it is appropriate to say anything at all. Helmuth and Seth themselves may appear the most strange in the room given their vigilance.

Some feel that whispering is appropriate however. Sinclair talks to amongst a group with Asfal Stormborn and Alexander Ravenhall. The three of them, while all grim, keep up a conversation of why Abigail was targeted only. Agatha Agnes attempts to console Beatrice, who has been hyperventilating since Abigal fell. Darius and Ellen stand by the open doors to the north. They seem to need fresh air.

The room smells slightly metallic now. It seems to be from the blood. Aron in particular looks rather sick. He approaches Seth and Helmuth. “Look, I know people must be contained, but look around.” He gestures to all the glum people, followed by the sizable puddles of blood where Abigal was. “Can we move somewhere less reminding? Less sickening maybe? A spot perhaps less coated with Galatian blood?” Helmuth gives a little look to Seth. It is clear Helmuth cares more for the groups security than their comfort. It appears he leaves this to Seth while he waits for Estelle and Raphael to finish up.

Aron backs up, watching Abigal, occasionally twisting back, looking over his shoulder at the crowds. He addresses Valentina. “Um, some pastries? The flaky things, with the jam. I - I have no idea, do you think it was the food?” He looks worried. “Will she be fine? W-Will I be next? I didn't see any marks on her, she was fine a minute ago, please. Gods, do something.” He looks rather anxious, cracking his fingers, eyes following any figure who moves.

It is 10:52 PM. 1 hour and 8 minutes until the New Year. Estimated thirty minutes until Guard Reinforcements.

Her dress drapes the floor, bright white against the marble. Her short golden hair glowing with the lights of the ballroom. Most of the party watches concerned now, and many exclaim as she coughs, speckling her dress red with her sorceress blood. Emile looks completely drained of color. He frantically looks around the the ballroom. “Damn it, someone get Eduard. A-Abigal can you hear me? ”

Halcyon and Lucia walk out together, Seth closely behind them. Alistair rises from his seat, wobbling slightly. Aron comes to his side, attempting to help him. “A bit too much to drink, eh buddy?” Alistair nods, and the two of them walk slowly to the door.

Eduard grabs one of the chairs, lifting it up and returning it to its rightful place. He begins to undo his previous arrangements to the room. He keeps an eye on the guests as they walk out. Abigal waits for Eduard and they depart the room together, following the rest of the guests.

Aron listens to Halycon’s tale. “Well Lucia, it doesn’t seem we are tempting fate at all. It seems that what we will do will make it happen.” He looks around the room, taking quick glances at all the occupants’ faces. “If his cigars and guests are anything to prove it, Emile seems to have good taste. This dessert has been the subject to both braggery and divine readings. It would go against fate to not dash to it.”

“We should have brought masks. I know I have enough for everyone back home.”

Halcyon draws a card from her deck, and predicts the “omen.” Abigal and Aron seemed amused, smiling, even laughing at the reading. At the mention of an omen, Eduard’s hand once more returns to his blade, though it loosens when Halcyon speaks of dessert. He sighs and submits a small smile, perhaps recognizing his overreaction, perhaps to not seemed irked by the joke. Alistair’s attention seems to lie on the deck itself.

“Dare we challenge fate?” Aron begins, walking to the eastern door, leaning outwards, searching for the host. “ If we head downstairs now, before Emile arrives, will horrible events transpire? I haven't the slightest on how Oracle powers work.” He returns his body into the room, returning to the table area. “Though it does smell lovely...”

In the western lounge room of the second floor, Aron shakes his head. “My first New Year here, Mister Varianna. And I must say, it is rather exciting. Maybe two of the mages will drink too much and duel, I love it when that happens.” His face lights up. "Maybe I could be one of the mages!"

Aron walks away from Alistair’s chair, finding his own spot around the table. “It is just problematic. You give a single date to two men, and they both assume its for their calendar.” He grins, almost proudly. “I once arrived almost three months late for a tryst because of that confusion. I learned to start adding the years to my engagement plans.” Abigal once again shakes her head.

cont.

Aron tries not to giggle at the scene. From a southern room, a laughter is heard. Aron tries to hide his smile at first, failing to do so properly. He erupts in small laughter, echoing that from the other room. “Oh, no intrusion at all.” He gets up from his seat, beckoning towards Alistair to take his seat. Alistair obliges.

“Alistair was it? I am Aron Carlisle, trade negotiator between our countries. And this,” he beckons towards Lucia, the woman standing behind an opposite chair, “Is Lucia Varianna, the woman you look for.” He gestures now to the rest of the people in the room, bouncing his finger on each individual as he introduces them. “Abigal Bolton, 37th heir to the Galatian throne, her bodyguard Eduard, and Halcyon d’Orsay, oracle extraordinaire.” Seth follows Aron, giving a nod to each person as they are introduced. He seems to be rather focused, perhaps taking in all the new names and faces. Aron gives a little wink to Abigal, and she shakes her head with a small smile.

Aron, still leaning back in his chair, limply waves his arms towards Halcyon and Lucia. “A pleasure, a pleasure.” Abigal turns his way, and while Halcyon and Lucia can’t see her face, she seems to have Aron’s attention. He straightens up in his chair. “Miss Varianna, Miss d’Orsay, it my a pleasure.”

Downstairs, Aron answers Asfal. “Another blonde brother! I am Aron, it is wonderful to meet you. This lovely woman is Valentina, over there is Nishara, and Alexander. We had a bit of a mix-up and broke the previous hookah, worry not. Where in Galatine are you from, friend?” Aron extends both his hands towards Asfal, one open for a handshake, the other with the hookah pipe as an offer. Nishara and Valentina watch Aron’s face turn from whimsical delight to slight dismay at Asfal’s refusal of both.

Aron is delighted and offers quick, small claps when Valentina takes her smoke. “I don’t believe it will be too hard to enjoy your company. Um, your nation's company I mean.” Aron addresses Raphael after he mentions the 'bracing discussion.' “Well, I’ll have to arrange a get together to talk about trade between us.” He smirks slightly, and doesn’t sound too serious on the matter. Aron doesn’t strike you as a man who cares too much about his job. Valentina says her greeting to Alexander, and Aron tries not to hide a grin when she calls him “lovely.”

Seth and Raphael turn down Aron’s smoke proposal. “More for me I suppose!” He takes another puff, holding off on whimsical theatrics this time, though he cannot help but blow out the smoke out in rings. “One of many trade ambassadors between our wonderful countries. Taxes and tariffs are most fun to argue about, I assure you. This will be my first New Year outside of Galatine, but I hope it isn’t my last.” Another puff, the smoke this time darts out, passing through and misshaping a previous ring. “I intend to enjoy my stay as long as it lasts.”

Halcyon walks across the room. It isn’t a large room, but there is a suitable amount of people now. She reaches Aron Carlisle, and speaks to him (“I am so sorry to interrupt your evening…”). He offers a chuckle, and watches the servant prepare the hookah for him. “ Worry not, my evening is far from over, and I am certain I will recover.” He gives Halcyon a wink, then curses when he remember she cannot see. “Well, rest assured that will be the most drama for the night. I will tell Abigal that you would like to speak with her, I feel it will be mutual.” Halcyon leaves the room, having a fleeting conversation with Raphael, Marcus and Nishara.

As Raphael and Valentina approach Aron, the servant finishes the coals on the hookah, and places it on a table for public access. She bows, and leaves the room. Upstairs, Seth and Lucia leave as Agatha continues her rant, though their departure apparently goes unnoticed amidst her tirade. From the upstairs to the foyer, the couple make their way to the Smoke Lounge, passing Halcyon in the ballroom. As they continue on to the smoke lounge, they spy an armored Galatian with a female one, talking to eachother in the outdoor patio. As the married couple walks in, Raphael initiates conversation with a Galatian man with slight curls (“Raphael Montefiore, at your service...”)

“All is fine on my end, a mere misunderstanding. I am Aron Carlisle, 309th heir to the Galatian throne, and ...” The conversation pauses a moment as Aron inhales deeply on the hookah hose. He places the nozzle back onto the device and exhales heavy fumes from his nostrils, trying to look as menacing as possible, “...Galatian Dragon!” He makes himself laugh which slowly corrupts to coughs, releasing residual puffs of smoke as he does so. Valentina laughs and Aron smiles widely. “Gods, this is strong. You Durendales know how to enjoy yourselves and have fun. Come, everyone sit all around, stay a while.” He lifts the hose and hands it off in the direction of Emile, who declines, and instead holds it up for any takers.

“What a scary guardian. Least we know Abigal is in safe hands.”