Lucky Lover-boy, Silas Mortimer | (No Knowledge)
Between the combined efforts of those still at the first warehouse, taking care of the assassin vine was a quick process, painful only to the Dwarven doctor. Were it a mature vine, perhaps it would have given more of a fight, though with each suffered cut and slam, it’s grip loosened on Guillaumine.
In a matters of moments, the vine’s movements slows, until only the occasional twitch reveals to it be something more than a normal plant. As it shrinks to the floor, bits of dirt on the stone floor coagulate into crimson beads from the coat of blood once from within the spymaster.
Before an utterance is spoken, a raucous cheering sounds off from behind the bar counter. Behind a towering pile of desert foods, Rosalie and Silas hoot and holler in celebration. “Yeah! Show it who’s boss!”
Lucky Lover-boy, Silas Mortimer | (No Knowledge)
"Yes! I have it!" he cries out as he puts a hand into his outfit and searches for something. Silas removes a folded up piece of paper. The paper doesn’t look particularly well made, or perhaps has been severely worn. He unfolds it.
Silas gives Halcyon the paper. There is no address of any kind, rather a drawing that appears to have been made by a developing child. Underneath a [what is either a xylophone or a dock?], sitting beside the [what is either the ocean or snakes?] lie what the oracle presume to be a Galatian man and a Durendale woman who one might presume represent Rosalie and Silas. The pair appears oblivious to the fact that Halcyon is blind.
Rosalie: “I made this so new friends can find us! This is where we live! Visit, visit!”
Silas: “You have to, I mean, look at the crab we have! Isn’t it cute? Okay, we don’t have Crabby yet, but it's part of the dream, ain’t it?” He pincers his thumb and fingers together like such a creature. Rosalie laughs at first, but her mood quickly turns serious.
Rosalie: She adopts a hushed tone. “Darling, she doesn’t know what a crab looks like...”
Silas: The Galatian mimics the tone, covering his mouth as he speaks. “We can teach her honey, we just need to find the crab we’ve been looking for. Miss Oracle will learn by touch and sound.”
Rosalie: She appears determined, brow now low. “We’ll find Crabby. Not for us, but for Mademoiselle Oracle...”
Resolute, they both nod to each other before returning back to Halcyon.
Rosalie: Rosalie’s voice returns to its normal, boisterous nature. “Okay, it’s been agreed. We’ll teach you what a crab is. Fair trade for telling us our love would last forever, isn’t Silas?”
Silas: He shakes his head, disagreeing. “We already knew what Miss Oracle told us to be true, but she doesn’t have a single idea what a crab is! If anything, she should take us out to a meal as well.”
Rosalie: She nods, agreeing with his disagreement. “Okay, and she buys the grub. Glad we all agree.”
Lucky Lover-boy, Silas Mortimer | (No Knowledge)
Like children, Silas and Rosalie sit around Halcyon, taking her words as if they were the most marvelous of stories. When mentioning the murder, both become aghast with inflated though fleeting horror.
“We’re glad you’re here too, Miss Oracle! You’re making this the greatest, best, most wonderful one month anniversary!”
Lucky Lover-boy, Silas Mortimer | (No Knowledge)
Silas shrugs. As soon as he speaks, the pair begin to talk without pause, finishing each other’s tangents, not giving the time to interrupt. “Well, first we wanted a free meal -”
Rosalie: “- No, no, we first wanted to find something to do to celebrate for our anniversary-”
Silas: “- like enjoy a nice, warm meal, away from the cold -”
Rosalie: “- at a nice place, dressed like, well...” Rosalie spins to show off her dress, proud of it, “people like you Mademoiselle Oracle. So when we saw everything getting set up, we knew we had to take part of it.”
Silas: “So we snuck in!” The galatian man sounds proud, perhaps oblivious to any implication sneaking may have. “We, um, fo~und,” he extends the word far too long, and gestures to Rosalie with a wink. Rosalie gives him the thumbs up, approving of his word choice. “ourselves some outfits, and strolled right in!”
Rosalie: “The brutes at the door didn’t take kindly to that.”
Silas: “The opposite, really. Our disguises were perfect too!”
Rosalie: “But Augustus saw us and said we were last minute guests! Probably thought my Golden-Boy was Galatian royalty. He called him ‘exciting’ and ‘raw!’”
Silas: “All Galatians are royalty, honey, I just don’t know [exactly how close to the crown I am. I don’t think I’m a prince? But back to the story, Augustine must’ve saw my beautiful Rose’s charm, I am sure! He called her ‘natural’ and ‘delightful!’ He’s trying to woo her!”
Silas wraps himself around Rosalie, protectively. Their bright, conflicting outfits so close are near headache inducing. When he finishes the embrace, both of them swarm Halcyon, returning her earlier whispers.
Rosalie: “You can’t tell anyone, Mademoiselle Oracle! This is our once in a life-time chance to pretend! You were born into this life, we’ve only dream of it!”
Silas: Silas nods with fervor. “If you blow our cover, our anniversary’ll be ruined, Miss Oracle! If you believe in love, you won’t say a word!”
They both hold out a single hand to the oracle. They speak in unison: “You need to promise, okay?”
Lucky Lover-boy, Silas Mortimer | (No Knowledge)
As soon as Halcyon asks the couple to calm themselves, they become as straight and stiff as arrows. They nod enthusiastically when Halcyon first speaks of the future, though they begin to get lost in the later metaphors. When mentioning thieves, Halcyon told the pair to calm before they could voice their horror to this supposed future. The two remain silent, feeding on her wise words.
When Halcyon asks what brings them to the auction, the two look as though they’ve seen ghosts. Their eyes become wide with surprise, though Rosalie hides it quicker than Silas. The Galatian glances the the floor, speaking under his breath. “Well, we, um, we snuck-”
Lucky Lover-boy, Silas Mortimer | (No Knowledge)
When Halcyon draws her card, the Galatian man is filled with glee. “She’s a magician too?! We lucked out, honey!”
Lucky Lover-boy, Silas Mortimer | (No Knowledge)
“Miss Oracle is a seer now, honey!” The two are inseparable. Where the Galatian didn’t move with the same sweeping movement as his other half, he was quick to adopt similar mannerisms. His voice falls to a loud whisper, he covers his mouth, though still moves wildly. “Honey! Don’t ruin our shot at this, please apologize!”
Rosalie: “I am sorry, Mademoiselle Oracle, please forgive me, Mademoiselle oracle!” She bows frantically, blurring into a rainbow. When she rises, she begins a small jig, tapping the stage, stomping lightly, slapping her leg. The man follows her actions, and soon they bring in looks with their sounds and motion
The two of them stop suddenly, nod at each other, and face the oracle. They speak in unison.
“I’m Rosalie Faye and -”
“I’m Silas Mortimer and -”
They both stop jerking their head to look at the other. They both point their fingers at the other, and begin gesturing to determine who would speak. When they reached a decision, the Galatian man began, though was spoken over by his partner before he finished his first word.
“- And this is my lo-”
“- And this is my -”
Silas: They both sigh, defeated. Silas looks back to the seer as Rosalie returns to her loud dance-like motions. “Can you really, really see the future?” Silas begins to drum on the stage.
Rosalie: “You can’t take someone’s word for it! I have a test, darling” The woman holds up three fingers, waving them in front of the oracle. “How many fingers am I holding up, Mademoiselle Seer?”
Silas: “H-Honey, she is blind.”
Rosalie: “I know, darling. She’ll need to look into the future and see how many I’m holding up then.” The woman rolls her eyes, moving her entire head in the action, as if it would help the blind oracle see it better. “Sorry Mademoiselle Oracle, we need to know you’re the real deal, and this is the only way.” She looks at Silas, winks, and raises a fourth finger. The man tries to hold in a giggle, confident the oracle has been tricked.
Lucky Lover-boy, Silas Mortimer | (No Knowledge)
As these two have a lot of back and forth, and I cannot have a shared alias picture, Silas and Rosalie will often share avatars, with the first speaker taking the post.
The two bidders don’t sit on the chairs, they hop up and down, standing right next to each other in a frantic race to outbid the other, flailing their arms, grinning at one another, near shouting. If anyone else wanted to bid, their voices or gestures went unnoticed. “Wait, not her, me! Six hundred! Over here, me, me! Toss it down!”
Rosalie
Augustine doesn’t have to search for a higher bid. The woman begins to jump again. “Seven hundred! He doesn’t need it, he loves me!” The woman walks up to the stage, reaching to the podium.
Silas
Silas follows. “She doesn’t need it either! Magic-love isn’t fair, she just wants it so she can love me more than I love her!!” The man tries to climb the stage. He manages to stretch a leg onto the stage before announcing his bid. “Eight hundred!”
Rosalie
Rosalie crawls up, wrapping her hands around the podium and attempting to pull herself up. Her footing falters with the little space between the podium and the stage’s edge. “Darling, I need this. If I have it, no one can else will, and then no one can steal you from me. Nine hundred!”
Silas
They both are on the stage now. Augustine struggle to keep a straight face as he announces the bids. Some of the mercenaries have moved inside as the spectacle continued. “I’ll hold onto it, then!” The blonde man leans forward, eyes on the pink elixir in Augustine’s hand. He turns his head to the woman, sticks out his tongue and yells. “Five thousand!”
The bidding ends, the woman holding her head in her hands, defeated, the Galatian dancing a jig in victory. When Augustine confirms the bid of five thousand gold coins, the two bidders instantly look to each other, eyes wide. They spoke in unison: “Gold?” Following that, they begin to babble, the man saying that they didn’t know they were bidding with coin, the woman insisting that it was a scheme to get everyone excited about the auction.
They both end their explanations around the same time, cock their heads towards each other and again speak in unison: “Isn’t that right, love? No, that wasn’t- It was- ” They begin to argue, no longer attempting to cover themselves but instead trying to convince each other which excuse was the better one. Some of the guests seem amused at their antics, most are confused, but a few appear rather angry. Among those laughing are Gerard Vieuxpont and Darius Agnes.
Darius raises his hand, calling out “five thousand for the show alone.” Sibylle announces that all proceeds will go to the charity, to which Augustine states that with his matched contribution, ten thousand gold had been raised within a single minute. The confused, angry, and those recovering from laughter all joined together in applause. Augustine walked the couple off stage, whispering to them, eventually turning them to a gleeful silence. Silas and Rosalie hold hands as they exit, the entire event behind them it seems.
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