2018-01-07: Masquerade

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====================<* November City - Chateau de Iles *>=====================

The Chateau de Iles is the finest dining establishment in November City. It is a place that requires black tie dress, something few Drifters can do, and serves a blend of food that someone from Earth might call Italian and French. The wait staff is notoriously aloof, and reservations are required in advance -- and undesirables are turned away at the door. However, those who get in are treated to the meal of their lives, underneath fine chandeliers and eating the freshest ingredients.


<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

        Every so often, the high society of November throws itself a party. The venue is almost always one of the city's exclusive clubs or restaurants, and this time, the annual Midwinter Ball is being hosted at the Chateau de Iles. Located on the ground floor of a five-story hotel downtown, it radiates class and taste from every surface. The floors are imported marble from Meria Boule. The wooden furnishings--already something of a luxury in the desert--are made of expensive hardwoods from the Blackmoon Forest. The waitstaff are not famous for customer service, but they are prompt and professional otherwise. Everyone is impeccably-dressed, and wearing magnificent masks decorated with glass crystals, feathers, sequins, and other flashy elements. The security staff are very aggressive about turning away anyone who isn't dressed properly.

        A small group sits at one of the banquet tables: a half-dozen men and women wearing suits and white half-masks. Their leader(?) is a tallish, full-figured blonde woman in a red dress with a plunging neckline, and. red-and-gold butterfly mask. At another table, not too far from that one, is a thin woman in an elegant and well-tailored taffeta dress. It's deep blue, and complements the mask she's wearing, which is studded with silvery sequins. The latter is Ida. She is grateful the half-mask doesn't reveal too much, expression-wise, because she very much does not want to be here.

        She is here anyway because she has obligations.

<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.

        Riesenlied is... ... not here.

        Nope. Not at all. In her stead, entering through the front and escorted by her entourage, is a young woman of rather clearly well-bred stature, with fine and long pale-blonde hair worn long and adorned with a studded fascinator resembling a whiteflower from the Ignasian region, as if to pay lipservice to the customs around the region.

        Her gown is immaculate, the kind that would be talked up by fashion auteurs and debonair well-to-dos in charge of the season's lineup; with a striking navy blue colour adorned with ephemeral gold hem, she dresses to impress from her capelet to her flaring cuffs and modest, ruffled decolette, poufed up with voluminous layers upon layers of panniere underneath.

        A D**ney Princess, in other words.

        It probably would be convincing, if she didn't kinda-- exactly look like Riesenlied without her scales, horns, wings, and debilitating, deteriorating illness. A 'what if', as it were. A cucco-mask is placed over her face, at the same time cute and yet perplexing, as if making one wonder whether one wears it for purposes of satire or jest.

        That, and the Maître d' is making the most disgusted looking face as he turns to what he suspects is a foot-tall... lizard thing dressed in a tiny tuxedo and top hat, with jutting horns and paws coming out of it, trying to sneak in through the line of artificial bushels that surround the dining area.

        "Mon dieu!" he exclaims, like a villain in a children's movie.

        But more to the point -- the Chateau de Iles is hosting a special occasion today, as can be seen with the large proscenium stage currently covered in royal red curtains to one side of the dining hall. Each diner would have been granted an itinerary in vellum card stock expressing the various kinds of auctions on display -- ranging from famous art pieces from expressionist artists all the way in Western Aquvy, timeless vases from the Zeboim era, and of course...

                                   Lot 12.
                          Dragon Fossil, Intact Skull
                    Guild Galad AA-grade verified specimen
                                 Olivia Carver

        It all seems very on the up-on-up on the surface, but those with the know and the connections do understand: this is a auction with many, many ties to the criminal underworld, by many methods and ends. 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

There had been a time in her life when such events were a common occurrence in her life - of gilded halls, impeccable attire and hushed conversations, years in which she had to stand by the side of a domineering shadow, young but polished, hair pulled tight with a thousand pins and a posture so perfect its plains and angles can be mathematically calculated, parts of her dripping with diamonds or whatever manner of precious stones with which she has been told to dress. One would almost expect her to do the same today, with that much experience under her belt - to hob-nob with the wealthy and influential, be they from the corporate world or academia. To dress in accordance with the latest fashions, laugh behind fans and fan her fingers upon the sleeve of the wealthiest person there; after all, it isn't as if she hasn't done this before since leaving her former life.
 
 But the fact of the matter is Cassidy Cain detests dressing up unless she absolutely has to. Her vanity is utterly insurmountable, but she chooses to express this in other ways. So outside of what is probably expected from the conwoman and thief, she has elected not to dress herself as part of the august company of profiteers and potential buyers that are attending the present auction. No slinky dresses and plunging necklines for her.
 
 Instead, she's dressed as one of the waitstaff, in an impeccably tailored ensemble of whites and blacks: a button-down shirt with three-quarters sleeves, a black waistcoat cinched tightly at the waist, high-waisted, slim-fitting trousers flanked by brass buttons, two each upon the cradle of her hips, leaving long legs unencumbered for the very serious business of delivering all manner of cocktails to waiting guests, and made all the more endless by a pair of black heels.
 
 There's also a fedora, tilted to the front and side, obscuring an open view of her eyes, and a black tie, because she's not Leon Albus, tucked into her vest.
 
 Unfortunately, she wasn't able to escape the necessity of binding her hair, left in a loose coil at the base of her collar and leaving pale-gold wisps to cling upon it; a distressing state of affairs, considering how much she hates the very thing. A black domino mask is perched on her nose, bound to her head in ribbons, and the only sign of any actual finery upon her is a string of near-perfect pearls that peek from underneath the collar, rendered visible by the way she keeps her tie's knot loose (the influence, perhaps, of a certain redhaired reporter). She carries a platter laden with drinks, deftly perched on the pale fingertips on one hand.
 
 She stands simultaneously apart and a part of the waitstaff. Not just by the way she fits her clothes, but by her stride. She stops at a cluster of revelers, offering the absolutely innocent crystal flutes she's carrying.
 
 "Compliments of the house, mes amis," she murmurs.
 
 Green eyes shot with gold glint from underneath the shadows of her hat. 

<Pose Tracker> Linvidia Diargento has posed.

 
And in that entourage IS

A woman with a purple sequinned mask on, slightly asymmetrical and tending towards the left like a classical opera villain from some opera that isn't well known out of the Seed Cities. Her hair has been drawn back and pleated into a loose braid, smoothed and flattened but not otherwise disguised. A pair of pendant earrings and an indigo dress with bare shoulders and a loose lace choker are about as fance as Elly van Houten could get on a budget.

Elly walks with understated and serene confidence. She doesn't even realize she's doing it. "You're doing wonderfully," she murmurs quietly. She is to the immediate left of Ms. D***ney. 

<Pose Tracker> Sorey has posed.

 There have been more and more reports of malevolence floating about, which is a concern to the Shepherd who has been spending quite a bit of time trying to get the malevolence BACK UNDER CONTROL. Because really, it's just not a good thing that it's here on Filgaia. Unfortunately he is coming to the conclusion that this genie might be out of the bottle for good, and that means his mission is going to have to expand to saving this world as well as his own.
 
 But there's still hope that things are not going to be as bad as he expects, and it is Sorey's hope that defeating the Lord of Calamity will help to stop the spread of malevolence for the time being. But Lucia isn't exactly easy to find, and her people have been laying low. The next best thing is to focus on purifying any strong Hellions he can find, and dealing with any areas of malevolence he can find.
 
 There's been a rumor that there are people in high society who have been acting strangely, and Sorey figures that it's worth investigating the possibility that some of them might have turned into Hellions. Most human Hellions are rather violent, but to be frank... November can be a rough enough town that 'violent' might not stand out too much. Ad so he arrives at the masquerade ball, dressed in costume in order to avoid drawing attention to himself.
 
 In this case, he's wearing an old(?) mask he discovered in a set of ruins, which is a checkerboard white and red oval with only one visible eye, which takes the form of a four pointed star. The rest of the outfit is a black jacket with a white vest and shirt underneath, a single bit of red string set in the center providing a splash of color. Black slacks and boots help complete the ensemble, as well as an odd set of fingerless gloves which are partially open on the back.
 
 He wanders about the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. Given the crowd, he's expecting something odd to happen. He's just not sure what. 

<Pose Tracker> Sephilia Lampbright has posed.

One of the places near Ida is occupied by a young woman in an elaborately crafted fox mask, with a deep green dress sewn in a fairly unique fashion, though not out of place--it's just that it's a modified version of local Filgaian styles, with a few personal flourishes thrown in. It's a dress that shows serious love and attention to detail in its crafting, and its lines draw the eye away from a certain lack of curvature--though to those that can identify Sephilia Lampbright, there may be some surprise that she does seem to have a little bit of curves after all.

Not much curviness, mind you, but the dress is cut in such a way that it looks good even with the limited resources Sephy's figure offers.

Lord Chauncey of Foxington is conspicuously absent, though the cloakroom of the establishment has gained a rather dapper plush guardian in a top-hat and jacket. Sephy has so far not been asked about the absence of her constant companion, possibly because frankly, it's hard to recognize her in this getup.

Even her hair is different from usual; Sephilia's strawberry blonde curls have been artfully arranged into an elaborate cascade. 

<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.

        Bolstered with self-confidence and radiating an incredible sense of satisfaction at having Riesenlied on her arm as she strides into a society gathering, Noeline... is evidently trying the 'hide in plain sight' kind of plan. She doesn't exactly move in noble circles most of the time, of course, but if you've ever come across Noeline before there's something immediately, arrestingly familiar about the girl at the mystery cucco's side.

        It could certainly be the slavish devotion to crimsons and blacks, for a start, her short dress overdone in black lace and vibrantly red silk; it could perhaps also be the little suggestion of bat shapes woven elegantly into the lace pattern, or the domino mask that hides half of her face. Alternatively, it's the ridiculous tiny top hat that sits at a rakish sort of angle on top of her head, matched with two large hairties in the shape of butterfly wings that divide her hair into two very recognizable long twin tails.

        If all that weren't enough, the two pods floating at her shoulders are kind of a giveaway, even if they've been draped in black cloth with a pair of fake wings attached to each side. They seem inordinately pleased to be cosplaying as the fattest bats around.

        "Thank you for the introduction, by the way," she hums across at Elly, placed at the other side of the woman who is totally not Riesenlied; she fans herself idly with her itinerary, more of a pose than an attempt to actually cool down. "I dare say it might be best if we find a nice high table on a balcony somewhere. I'm eager to keep tabs on what's going on." 

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

        She wears a mask shaped like a wolf's head, painted a dull gold.

        Is it a warning or a touch of cheekiness? Sometimes it's hard to tell with Josie.

        She arrives alone, the mask the only splash of color in what is otherwise an orthodox black suit, tailored for a woman. The tie -- black -- is of course tucked neatly into the vest, and a pair of black gloves disappearing under the jacket and shirt sleeves round out her attire.

        It's a far cry from the usual dusty longcoat and travelworn clothing the archaeologist tends to favor. She looks positively pristine tonight, even her hair let loose from its usual braided bun.

        Penelope, despite having the perfect black and white suit herself -- and naturally at that -- is notably not present. Birds were not included on the invite list.

        Sliding in alongside 'Olivia' and turning a darkeyed glance over at the skull on display, Josie smiles lopsidedly beneath her wolfshead mask.

        "How's it going, Sunshine?" 

<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.

Fei Fong Wong woke up after the events of the latest attack with a bunch of other survivors but eventually got picked up the Yggdrasil and cleaned up where he promptly proceeded to hate himself in his room for a while. But eventually, he just had prior plans he had to deal with since he already promised to help Riese--err, Miss D**ney as part of her entourage. He has managed to stop complaining about malevolence for the moment after yesterday's events. Luckily, Fei figures he just got knocked out since by the sounds of it, the day was about as saved as it could be! And since it was about as saved as it could be, he must have passed out before anything bad happened.

Fei is wearing a purpleish red buttoned shirt with an open grey jacket and slacks with white shoes. He is wearing a slightly asymmetrical mask that tends towards the right, and is similarly colored as Elly's, though his is far plainer.

"Considering everything you're dealing with, I'm surprised you were able to juggle all of this." He tells Riesenlied.

He has no idea Sorey is Sorey otherwise he'd probably say something to him. He is having a hard time fretting too much about the dragon fossils at this point in time because with everything going on, they seem like a minor problem, but you should always finish your projects. The elder always said that.

Fei grimaces faintly at the wolf mask. He remembers...

"Right..." he tells noeline. 

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

Elsewhere, having already entered from the front before Riesenlied's--ahem, the D**ney princess's--entourage is another striking woman, tall and with sharp golden eyes that shine through her mask. ...The mask in question is done in gold, solid and stylized to cover her eyes and nose, a wolf's head. She is dressed for the occasion, of course, is a sweeping black velvet gown with golden thread, closed all the way up to her neck with a button. The bodice hugs her figure well, and her footwear is a pair of elegant boots--leather, of course--that look never to have seen dust before. Except...

There's an ease to her motions, a confidence that has drawn some eyes already. Lily Keil--in a thin disguise indeed--is hidden largely by the opulence that is very much at odds with her general persona. Even her lips have a too-dark cast, however, her black hair done up elaborately with an emerald pin. The overall effect is... somewhat funerary, when combined with the severe set of her lips, the cold look in her eyes, and while she has drawn some attention, she has drawn little interaction.

It is... not hard for her to spot the D**ney princess's entrance when she makes it, her eyes sliding her way before she imposes light conversation on another unsuspecting gentleman.

Save him. 

<Pose Tracker> Matilda Whitehead has posed.

This is exactly not the sort of circumstance Matilda used to find herself in. Despite the wealth she came into in her teens, she is, fundamentally, a farmer's daughter who has experienced significant life change, rather than a member of the upper crust. ... she does, however, really like to look nice, and what's more, she needs to get out and be around people in circumstances that aren't life and death again.

... that, and maybe she has some designs on a few of these things. She's recently come into a comparatively large sum of money, for reasons that are, frankly, kind of morbid. ... but then, Matilda's gains usually come from morbid sources. It's Filgaia.

She wears a deep blue dress and a mask with the look of twisting vines, a few bright red berries hanging by an eye. Her gaze swoops over each of the lots in turn, then briefly rests on Josie... then Legally And Medically Distinct From Riesenlied and Noeline... then finally the blonde in the butterfly mask.

She has been successfully distracted from her intended goal of looking at each of the lots in turn. Indeed she's pretty much stopped moving entirely, standing between lots 11 and 12. 

<Pose Tracker> Ambrosius has posed.

How long has it been since he participated in an event like this? It felt like it had been a long time since he had anything to celebrate. To some of his people, that was reason enough in itself: to hold their parties and their balls so that, for one night, they could forget that this world had consigned them to death.

He was never one for that sort of behavior.

Tonight, however, was something different. Tonight he was here for a purpose. However, even though he did not participate in events like this often, that did not mean he did not know how to handle them. He was, after all, a Veruni, and he had his pride.

Due to his unusual proportions, the suit he wore had been tailored for him personally. It was perhaps fancier than anything anyone he knew had seen him wear, when compared to his usual outfit. It was made in such a fashion to obscure the fact that the man's arms were perhaps a bit longer than an average human's really should be, even for his size. And though it was a fine outfit, perhaps more special was his choice of mask.

A full-face mask that is primarily a steel-blue, with glittering amber slits that conceal his eyes. Tusk-like extensions near the jaws. Sunken slightly into the mask and concealed by shadows is a mouth full of fangs, that look as if it could open at any moment. That wasn't the case, of course.

It looked as if it was made both to impress and terrify, which was perhaps the point.

Though he was considered eccentric even among his people, he was still a Veruni, after all. He would not allow himself to be outdone by humans.

For the most part, he stays near the Carvers, arms held behind his back and studying everyone passing by.

Everyone.

He studies the woman in the wolfshead mask - Josie - for a moment as she approaches Rie - rather, Olivia. His eyes, though concealed behind those amber covers, linger on her for a moment...

But eventually he inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment. 

<Pose Tracker> Linvidia Diargento has posed.

 
"(See, Fei; you're really standing out. You're going to make a good impression,)" Elly says to Fei parenthetically. To Noeline, she replies, "Think nothing of it. I'm just glad I was able to help..." 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

        Ida complimented Sephilia on her dress. It's very strange to see her wearing adult formalwear, mostly because she's so used to her acting and looking much younger. It's a good look for you, she'd told Sephilia, and then she felt as though she was trying to push her into doing something just because it would make her look less childish. At some point, she obtained a champagne flute from one of the waitstaff floating around--not the blonde lady in the fedora and tuxedo, one of the other ones--and drinks from it. Ida sits up straight, her eyes scanning the assemblies and entourages scattered throughout the room. The one led by the fancily-dressed woman in the bird mask is impossible to miss. Ida blinks behind her own mask, at once grateful there are more familiar people and oh-so-very-anxious. The pair with matching masks look like Fei and Elly, at least, which takes a load off her mind. She's been worried. Ida looks over to the woman examining the lots, and then to the man in the checkerboard mask who looks to be surveying the crowd as well.

        "I believe we should introduce ourselves," Ida says, to Sephilia. She takes the flute with her as she rises, and walks over to Sorey. "Good evening, sir," Ida says. "Are you waiting for someone?"

        Meanwhile, there's a hushed conversation over at the butterfly-masked woman's table. "Is that the Honorable Miss Carver?" she says, to the woman at her right. The woman nods. "My," says Miss Butterfly. "She certainly can afford to dress herself. Is she the arm-candy, or is it the one next to her?" Miss Butterfly's gaze flicks over to Legally Distinct From Noeline, with a smile.

<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.

        There's a faint and nervous nod from Rie-- Olivia as she glances towards how... natural Elly seems to look in this environment. It isn't the kind of stage she's ever had to put herself upon before -- there was nothing of the kind back at the Photosphere. The most decorum and expression one has ever had to vocalise there was one of iron discipline and an unrelenting fist... one she's been careful to not drown intoxicatedly into.

        And if there were really concerns remaining, the way Noeline is just about tugging her around -- and the way she doesn't really object to hanging by that elbow as if it were a lifeline, a plank between haute couture and a faux pas is certainly telling. Maybe she is the arm-candy.

        She accepts a crystal flute of what she must assume is liquor from Cassidy, which she doesn't plan on drinking because... well, she wants to get to the end of this mission on her feet, not floored.

        "My gratitude to you for this, miss," she-- she expresses in a thick, super put-upon accent that sounds like a teenager's first giggly read of a Victorian play. No, someone is not a good actor at all. Someone is incredibly nervous, and it shows.

        She looks at Fei, and laces her fingers together daintily as she expresses, "Such is the way of a woman of my station. Come now, it shall be as dear Noeline desires. And I do well this fine day, Josephine, though your sobriquet of 'Sunshine' is of poor jest in this Chateau."

        She glances Ida starting to come ... not her way, exactly, but it does prompt her to gesture. "T-to the mezzanine we go, dear patrons of the arts! It is in House Carver's graces that you dine tonight, no expenses shall be spared."

        She moves and takes her seat, up in the balcony to give them a better vantage point of what's to come. She does catch Ida and Sephy, at the table near with the woman in the butterfly mask...

        Odjn, as someone might eventually pick her out in the bushes -- maybe Sorey, who no doubt will remember their time together? -- only has one mission today: hold up Devet's handy-camera to record this outing so that the Ebony Wings can hang this over Riesenlied's head over the rest of time itself.

        Er, I mean, for reconnaisance purposes. Yes, that.

        The degustation menu, on an aside, may take an entire Drifter team to decipher, with a necessary healthy supply of Wits tools:

                             ' POUR PATIENTER '
                                                                               
                        Dorade mariné, avocat/poutargue
                       Foie gras de canard confit, coing
                Saint-Centaur dorée, chou-fleur et caviar gold
  Noisette de chevreuil en cocotte, châtaignes et potimarron, sauce poivrade
      L'écrou croustillant au chocolat de notre Manufacture à Guild Galad 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

Even in the midst of a crowd such as this, Riesenlied is distinct - the horns and the face give it away, and in spite of Cassidy's statement otherwise, she can't help but notice things. Can't help but remember things.
 
 Gravitating in her direction so she could pluck a flute from her platter, this is the first time in which she has come within breathing distance one of the orchestrators of the Battle of Adlehyde and it takes everything in her power not to reduce a delicate series of machinations into a bloody and violent affair; the urge to rip off layers of skirt and cram it down the Metal Demon's throat is so overwhelming that how she manages to prevent herself from doing so is a mystery for the ages. And with only a curl of the corner of her mouth, such bloody fantasies do not come to pass - Cassidy drifts away, her free hand in her pocket, the other toting her silver platter even while those hidden fingers claw into the inner linings of her trouser pockets, her heart hammering wildly against her sternum. The presence of adrenaline is itself a high, to pair it with a sudden homicidal urge leaves her lightheaded in ways recreational drugs cannot reproduce.
 
 There'll be a reckoning one day, she knows. Just not today.
 
 Instead, she pours the torrential wildfire of of unrealized needs into the act of sweeping towards Madame Butterfly and her companions, offering them a round of bubbly with an amicable smile. 

<Pose Tracker> Sorey has posed.

 Sorey looks up as the masked woman whom he totally does not know wanders over to him, and inclines his head politely. "I have a friend waiting here for me already - I'm just trying to find them, and I'm sure they'll appreciate if I can figure out who they are by the end of the evening," he comments rather absently, sounding amused at the whole masquerade concept. It is something entirely new to him, given his rather away from society upbringing, and he's appreciating the novelty.
 
 It means he's somewhat distracted from trying to sense malevolence, however.
 
 "Sadly I had another companion who was thinking of coming along, but the outfit that was apparently a companion piece to mine was... well, she didn't really seem interested in wearing it in public, and I can't blame her," he adds to Ida and Sephy, smiling.
 
 Not that anyone can see, the mask does cover his entire face.
 
 There is a pause, and a faint cough from the bushes nearby to Odjn. Given the soft, pale hair, the feather and crystal covered mask, the flowing sleeves and high collar that sweeps into what looks like a white fur trimmed cape, it would be pretty easy for someone to mistake Mikleo for a lady from behind, although his layered robe and slacks make it harder to make that mistake from the front.
 
 The fact that most of the crowd can't see him either also makes the possibility of a mistake a bit less likely to boot.
 
 "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Odjn," Mikleo comments absently. "...I expect you are keeping an eye on your partner in crime?" 

<Pose Tracker> Linvidia Diargento has posed.

 
Olivia, Elly tells herself. That is what Riesenlied's name is for this performance. Riesenlied is Olivia, for today.

"Oh, how splended," Elly says, clasping her hands together, complete with their fresh manicure and nail-lacquering. Nothing too fancy. Just one shade, a dark red. She walks steadily upwards, even as Riesenlied speaks in that fine accent. Elly actually has no evident reaction to it.

Seems legit to her.

Then someone comes up to offer drinks! "Oh, thank you," Elly tells her, smiling with a small tilt of the head and plucking up a glass with a dainty motion of the wrist. She keeps it perfectly level and passes it under her own nose as if to enjoy the aroma. This is also to see if it smells like poison, or at least, an obvious poison.

"Will the bidding occur from the mezzanine as well?" Elly asks. It's more in the air of a hypothetical. "I do hope that we've brought enough with us..."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

        Hidden beneath the mask, Josie arches an eyebrow.

        So that's how it is. 'Sunshine' certainly has the part down pat now.

        Josie's a little impressed.

        "Well, then my apologies for being so forward, Miss Carver. I look forward to the auction this evening."

        May as well play along.

        She falls back half a step, making eye contact with Matilda -- didn't expect her here -- before her gaze falls on a certain Miss Keil.
        Damn, times like this, she's a little bit jealous.
        But only a little bit.

        Shaking her head, Josie reaches over to pluck one of the glasses off the tray as the blonde waiter draws closer, only to pause, as if merely to glance at and then scent its contents.
        An accomplished drinker, she knows her alcohol... as well as some of the things someone might slip into it.

        They know they're coming. Josie is certain of it. It's just a question of how low they'd go. 

<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.

Fei looks to Elly and then around the room and--well, he's skeptical of Elly's claim here even if he does laugh a bit and say, "Well, it fits better than I expected." He adjusts the jacket self conciously. "I guess we should try not to stand out too much though." Luckily this is a masquerade so everybody can dress up as shiny as they want and still seem appropriately dressed. He spots Ida but seems to be sticking to the plan here. He sees Sephilia but--nah, Sephilia doesn't look like THAT he's just imagining it.

Olivia, Fei thinks. Should he pick his own new name here? He probably shouldn't have to worry unless someone asks him. He can think of a few aliases at least, just to be safe, since Fei does have a bounty associated with him and is an unusual name unlike Elly who could be any number of Ellys.

He takes a drink from Cassidy when offered, though doesn't recognize her. Though uh, he might have also never met her, so there' that too. He doesn't drink it yet since so far this is actually very relaxing and not like his normal life at all. "Thank you." He says, because he's not a jerk.

Well he's not always a jerk.

"I haven't been making much," Fei admits since, again, story is a lot harder to sell especially if you're being attacked by THINGS FROM BEYOND INVADING YOUR MIND and all that.

He glances to Odjn but doesn't bother her for the moment. "Right, right. To...that place you said."

Wait, Fei thinks. He didn't take a good look because of the mask but he looks back at the lady in the wolf mask (That's Lily Keil, fateful viewers!) and studies her for a moment, thoughtfully. 

<Pose Tracker> Sephilia Lampbright has posed.

Sephy is moving food around on her plate somewhat dejectedly, trying not to be disappointed in the fancy fare. She wants nothing more than a simple meat pie right now. 

<Pose Tracker> Linvidia Diargento has posed.

 
While Fei is looking at Lily, Elly just ends up downing that entire glass. But in a ladylike way!

OK, she took two sips.

If the server hasn't moved past she gets a second serving. It may be hard for people to tell. 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

A familiar guest looms before her, once Cassidy has managed to wind her way away from the table taken up by Miss Butterfly and her desk, steps leading her towards where Josephine Lovelace stands, dressed in a dark suit. An appraising glance is given to the tall, white-haired woman, before swinging the platter around to offer her a glass of deep amber whiskey instead.
 
 "Pardon me for saying so, lass, but as an experienced mixologist, I cannae help but conclude that you're more for whiskey than bubbly."
 
 That accent.
 
 The blonde lifts her head enough, meeting the archaeologist's eyes with her gold-flecked greens, and flashes her a surreptitious wink. 

<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.

        In the end, Noeline's always been a bit of a creature of duality. Stuck somewhere between demon and human, torn between loyalties for much of her life, the idea of being in the middle and forced to be fluid is nothing new. It's comfortable, in a way. That's why she can simultaneously enjoy being Riesenlied's support as she guides the woman slowly between tables and up a curved staircase to a balcony - and why she can also let her grin nudge wider as Riesenlied's attempts to speak, and ensure that the table they choose has a good sightline towards Odjn's camera.

        A little teasing never hurt anyone, after all. Or a lot.

        She's limping as she leads, ever so slightly - the wounds from Wehaca weren't all mental, and her self-repair systems are still a little scrambled from the channeling of the Guardian's power and whatever the hell it was that Ethius Hesiod called down upon them.

        But she's able to carry it with style, at least, trusting in her presence to carry the day as she catches the eyes of the gossiping pair. "Why, madam, can it not be both?" she hums brightly in return to them as they pass, the suggestion of fangs in her gleeful grin as she bows her head in recognition of what could be charitably called a compliment; it allows her an opportunity to look askance at the rest of the room, picking out those people she-- can't so much recognize as surmise. Some of them are more obvious than others, certainly, though she's a big believer in the rules when it comes to masquerades. Being obvious about it is half the fun.

        "Have you ever known Olivia to stop and rest, even if she needs it?" she counters Fei's comment with a playful smile as she slips into a seat next to the leader of their entourage, a motion of her hand sending her two 'familiars' spiralling down to bobble together on a nearby cushion in an approximation of roosting. She can't help but add to Elly, as a tease: "I believe she was up all night studying a thesaurus in anticipation. ... relax, my dearest," she adds more privately as she pats Riesenvilia's arm.

        Cassidy's tray gets an incline of her head in respectful recognition, though when she takes a glass it's only to twirl it slowly between her fingers, back and forth. Her attention is already wavering towards the lots below, studying the layout of the stage from their vantage point. 

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

Lily meets Josie's eyes for a moment across the crowd, still asking the gentleman before her a few pointless questions about his feelings on the item on display. ...But it is Cassidy--in disguise, of course--who draws Lily's attention for a long few moments as the others pull drinks from her tray--as Riesenlied thanks her, not that Lily can hear her from here. It doesn't last too long; indeed next Lily's eyes scan back to Fei as well.

...She doesn't stop her scrutiny of the hall around her, and leaves the person she was talking with behind in short order, picking up a glass of her own, sniffing it, and not bothering to drink.

...Lily moves along the edge of the chamber a little further. 

<Pose Tracker> Ambrosius has posed.

Ambrosius is fully focused on his mission here. In this situation, keep an eye on Riesenlied, just in case, and be ready to make a move when the culprit presents themselves. It was fairly easy.

He does not, as it happens, accept a drink. As impressive and terrifying as his mask was, it did make drinking somewhat difficult. But that was fine. He had no intention of eating or drinking while he was here.

There was only one beverage he might make an exception for...

At Riesenlied's bidding, Ambrosius inclines his head in acknowledgment once more and turns to follow her and the others up to the mezzanine. It was a good idea on Noeline's part. It would make things so much easier for him.

Similarly to his refusal to take a drink, he doesn't even bother looking at the menu...nor does he even take a seat when they get there. Instead he stands off to the side, quiet and imposing, his attention divided between those around Riesenlied and the floor below. 

<Pose Tracker> Matilda Whitehead has posed.

After about a solid minute of staring, Matilda finally manages to stop being completely useless and turn her attention back to the lots... but then she decides that, instead of that, she would very much like a drink. As a result, she follows the champagne at a speed that is, frankly, much slower than she'd like. She catches up, and snags a flute for herself.

She doesn't drink just yet, though; instead, she takes a moment to scrutinize the mysterious Ms. Butterfly a little more closely, now that she's close. She sips briefly at her champagne, then asks, "Are these all the pieces, then, or will more lots be brought out on a -- mmm -- rotating basis?" Phew, she thinks to herself. Didn't put foot in mouth at all.

Her gaze turns away for a moment, though, as she hears Ida's voice not terribly far away. It'd be rude to call her by name at a masquerade, she reflects -- but she does glance over and give a small wave of a long-gloved hand. 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

        Cassidy is Ida's lifeline in this, in more ways than one. She's someone Ida knows won't sell her out to the thieves, or to other would-be thieves. The fact that they have enduring anger and bitterness in common helps, especially since Cassidy is not someone Ida would normally interact with, much less trust. Sephilia is reliable, but also young, and has no experience with the criminal underworld.

        "They are rather stringent about who comes in," Ida says. "They like a certain atmosphere." Sorey? It sounds like him. "It's been quite a while, hasn't it? I hope you've been keeping yourself busy." That last statement should not sound nearly as dark as it does, but there you have it.

        Meanwhile, Mme. Butterfly turns to Noeline, and chuckles. "If that's how you like it, then that's how you like it." Noeline and the rest of the entourage head off, to the mezzanine. Mme. Buterfly turns to Matilda, ruby-red lips twisting in a smirk. "I believe that's all for this evening, unless they decide to surprise us again. Is this your first time at auction, dearie?"

        Ida, meanwhile, sits back down at her table, and drinks champagne. Just a little while longer, she thinks to herself. Just a little while longer and this will all be over. She turns back to Sorey, if he's accompanied them. "I encountered one of your... proteges? In the field, the other day. She's doing quite well for herself. I'm glad.

<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.

        It's only a moment's exchange, between two people who've... never met before. Once, very narrowly, in the Guardian Temple, but they managed to avoid gazes.

        But it's with a slight shimmer that the centrepiece at her necklet -- the Dragon's Tear, a gem adorned with silver filigree -- dwells into a deep, twisted purple... and Olivia's lips purse a little, wincing with a strained gasp... as if she'd just been struck deep between the ribs.

        She's not certain who that woman was, but that anger... it was no less baleful and thorough than when she spoke eye to eye with Jack van Burace.

        'Olivia' shakes it off, stammering to her entourage, "I can only hope the fine patrons of Ignas are capable of understanding what my estate's esteemed prize is truly worth."

        Some of her lines sound like fed lines, and it's because they are! She has no idea of how entire human families possess the skulls of her ancestors like trophies over generations upon generations... and, well, all told, it saddens her that it does happen.

        She does spot Lily, at the time Josephine does as well -- she'd informed her that she'd be going ahead, and... she must trust the spymistress, as she often does Noeline as well. This was not her station, and she knows it. She does nod at her encouragement to relax, however... and makes no motion to dismiss that she was studying a thesaurus or not.

        Meanwhile, Odjn harps as she rounds her head up to Mikleo, nearly popping her top hat off, "Yeah!" She cups her mouth and giggles, saying, "Doesn't she look silly? Like a giant cucco, prancing around in all her feathers, hee hee... Devet's going to have a ball with this video."

        She looks around to whisper, "If yer here, does that mean Sorey is too? Is somethin' happenin' here tonight? We're tryin' to catch bad guys ourselves!"

        Odjn: Possibly worse for OpSec than even Zed.

        Food is served; there is a range of white and red wines from as close as November's very own vineyards to as exquisite as the reaches of Elru, with nothing spared in the revelry. But in the midst of it, after the guests have been suitably wined and dined:

        "Ladies and gentlemen!"

        The steward of the auction announces himself as he appears behind the stage, the curtains unfolding. "We at Chateau de Iles sincerely hope that you are enjoying your time tonight. But you shall not have to wait any longer for the main event... the Chateau de Iles Grand Auction! And please, have your numbers at the ready."

        An slightly overproduced fanfare, and a crew rolls out the first of the items on a castered trolley with what appears to be a box covered in velvet.

        "Our first item comes from the Great Sea Region itself, an ancient artifact of deep curiosity to scholars and archeologists alike. The tall legend of the Triumph Forks speak of these valorous glass artifacts to embolden their vitality in ritual..."

        He goes on for a bit, but the spotlights turn on as the velvet is undone, revealing:

        A translucent glass heart. With... approximately a quarter-piece of a filled red heart inside of it.

        The Great Sea Region is weird.

        "Do I hear fifty?" And so it goes... 

<Pose Tracker> Sephilia Lampbright has posed.

Sephilia sighs, gets up and leaves her food for now. She's pretty sure nobody else will want to eat her chou-fleur but she kind of hopes someone does. It's time to mingle, and Sephilia Lampbright is going to be--nay, is already becoming--a famous explorer and adventurer, after all!

Which is why she's just staring in complete confusion at the heart piece thing. 

<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.

That is Lily, Fei thinks. That look in her eyes is unmistakeable. He gives her a small nod before adding to Elly. "I think that's--" He pauses. "--you're thirsty. Is it too hot in here?" He can't hear the whispering. Will Fei fail to properly thank Sorey in this moment? Will it be another NEAR MISS?! Stay tuned to next time on Feifei's Traditionally JRPG Adventure!

He hears 'Olivia's' gasp but doesn't think much of it. Riesenlied's empathic awareness seems to be on a hair trigger. He doesn't want to jump at shadows.

He glances down towards the heart and asides to Riese. "That's a bit morbid isn't it? I wonder whawt it means." He uses hp like they do in civilized society.

He nods to Noeline. "Nah." He ays too easily. "Though I guess I don't know too many people who rest even when they need it." 

<Pose Tracker> Sorey has posed.

 Really, Sorey is in disguise. Clearly it's not a great disguise, and this woman does sound like Ida. But still, there's... something to be said for at least having someone around here who knows what is going on? Maybe?
 
 "Yes, events of late have been... a bit taxing as far as the work I need to do goes. Sometimes I feel like it's a never-ending job. But it is a job that is worth doing, so I don't want to let things just continue to degrade without trying to put a stop to it."
 
 That statement is REALLY VAGUE, but Sorey doesn't have a lot else he can say at this point. Especially given that his status as a do-gooder is generally well known, and he might not be welcome in less savory parts otherwise.
 
 "But my Squires have been a huge help. I don't think we've had made anywhere near the progress we have if they weren't helping to carry the burden with me."
 
 Thankfully Mikleo is much better at keeping a low profile than Odjn, although he is mainly amused by all the carryings on of the humans around here. "Well, we've been running down rumors of people who have been cursed by malevolence who are traveling in these circles - Sorey wanted to see if we could spot them at this party, although given how many people there are and how confused things are, I'm not too hopeful."
 
 The water Seraph pauses and looks at Riesenlied, who Odjn has been so kind to point out. "Not a bad look for her, although... probably not what I would have chosen. But I'm from Lunar, and our tastes are a bit different."
 
 He does pause at the auction, and just... stares at the heart piece for a moment. "Wow, I've not seen one those before. I wonder if Sorey recognizes it."
 
 Sorey meanwhile turns his mask to look at the auction, and tilts his head. "That IS weird. Why a quarter full? I wonder if Mikleo recognizes what that thing is..." 

<Pose Tracker> Matilda Whitehead has posed.

Matilda's eyes watch those ruby-red lips, and it takes her a few moments to remember that she's having a conversation and not just enjoying being talked at. It seems to startle even her a little bit! "It is," Matilda admits, with a nod. "I didn't precisely -- grow up, in this sort of environment... my wealth, such as it is, is a comparatively recent acquisition." God, Matilda, don't admit you're nouveau riche, you dumb, dumb disaster!

Her gaze turns to the glass heart being trotted out, and considers it thoughtfully. Vitality, hmmm...? ... no, she tells herself -- don't chase after superstition. It won't save her -- the exoticism does not increase the truth of the matter.

She fluffs out her hair momentarily, before returning herself to pleasant, light conversation. "I've made something of a fortune in analgesics and anesthetics -- mostly for Drifters, though I'm also interested in researching specialty items for interested patrons," she says. ... granted, that's not where the bulk of her funding tonight is coming from, but that topic isn't a dinner topic. 

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

        "...Oh, do you think so? I've never been fond of weaker drink, I suppose," the archaeologist replies, lifting the glass as if in a brief salute to the server. "May as well stick with what I'm familiar with, don't you think?"

        She'd know that accent anywhere.

        The lips beneath the golden wolf mask curve in a knowing smile.

        Well, at least this won't be a boring party, Josephine Lovelace considers, before heading further into the chamber beyond and finding herself a seat... and selecting a dinner item more or less at random.

        Eschewing the wine served at the table, Josie instead sticks to her liquor, still nursing the drink as the steward arrives and announces that the auction is underway.
        Just a little, she sits up a little taller. Her gaze casts off around the room, lingering at the edges, before she finally focuses on the first lot.

        She's heard a few stories about the Great Sea Region. Including, as it happens, the legend of these particular objects.

        But just a quarter? Well, perhaps it's the thought that counts. 

<Pose Tracker> Ambrosius has posed.

Ambrosius's silence is perhaps to be expected. He wasn't here to mingle, himself. His mask also does a good job of deterring anyone who might try to embroil him in meaningless conversation, while still allowing him to look like he belongs here.

His attention turns a bit more to the stage as the steward announces himself. He watches carefully, studying the first item up for bid with a hint of disinterest.

It's not that he didn't want it. It might very well be an important cultural artifact, whether or not it has the properties the steward suggests. But he has a feeling, though he doesn't know where it comes from, that even if he did purchase it, he'd just return it the next night so that the person who was really meant to possess it could bid on it. 

<Pose Tracker> Linvidia Diargento has posed.

 
"I was thirsty, but I think it's just that I missed lunch," Elly answers Fei with a lightness in her voice that wasn't quite there before... maybe she was thirsty. It's one of those things that's hard to nail down in a particular sentence.

As the table approaches and food is delivered, Elly goes with a white wine. More liquor.

The presentation of the heart in the jar makes Elly pause, fork upraised.

"... That would make much more sense if it were half of a heart... Olivia, is that a relic, do you think?" she asks, before also glancing towards the Crimson Noblewoman and the Dragon of Lahan (that's Fei btw, that last one). 

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

For her part, Lily isn't bothering to eat either. ...And she knows full well that her approach is conspicuous here, that everything about her is conspicuous to those who know how to look. What she doesn't do is particularly acknowledge Riesenlied, despite the fact that she's keeping an eye on her for certain. She has... Other plans.

She finally takes a drink when the red wine is offered, picking it up and sipping at it after she watches someone else do the same. She sips at it, and is still sipping by the time that the announcements are made. ...She has a number, of course. But largely she lets herself look up at the item for a moment. Vitality...

She glances back to Fei instead, and doesn't bother bidding. It's not what she's here for. 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

        Dinner happens. Ida makes something of an effort to eat, even though she doesn't really feel like it. Most of her food remains on the plate when the servers come around to collect the dishware. She does, however, take some sort of chocolate dessert--and she manages to eat part of that. She still feels nauseous, but the food helps a little.

        "I know," Ida says. "I've... experienced more trouble caused by that stuff within the past few days than most experience in a lifetime." Or so she thinks. But then again, she's not from where Sorey is, is she? What right does she have to make that judgment call? "Well, you may be pleased to know that there are others who are capable of aiding you," Ida adds. "It... surprised me, too, honestly, but I don't know the details. The Princess may be able to fill you in. Cecilia," Ida adds, in a low tone, remembering that Alisha is also a princess. Everyone's attention seems to be on the item on the auction block, though, and Ida looks at it, as well. "I don't recognize it," she says. "Very strange. Someone is going to purchase it and then put it on a table as a conversation piece." That's... kind of cynical, but honestly pretty accurate.

        Meanwhile, Mme. Butterfly gives Matilda an oh-aren't-you-precious smile. "Everyone has to start somewhere," she says. Mercifully, she doesn't comment on the source of Matilda's wealth. "Drifters buy the strangest things. And they sell the strangest things, too. Like--" Oh! It's on display already. Mme. Butterfly observes the item on display with bemusement. She doesn't bother bidding, either, though a handful of people are. "Allegedly, those are ancient... talismans, of some sort, but I don't put much stock in gawgads like that. Give me a solid ARM any day of the week."

<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.

        The tall man(?)'s costume is rather imposing - but Noeline meets its sudden looming over them with a carefree sort of smile and a nod of recognition. There doesn't seem to be a great deal to say, at least at the moment - Ambrosius' awkward truce with the Ebony Wings is still something that both sides are trying to figure out, and she's happy enough leaving it as-is until the Veruni comes up with some solid answers for himself, whatever they may be.

        Her eyes do flick ever so slightly towards the gasp that Olivia makes, knowing the sound as a sort of danger sense; not one she can perhaps do much about in this den of nobles and faux-nobles, but it's something worth bearing in mind. The prize on the auction block does give her pause as she tries to figure it out, but she's nothing if not a romantic, and very willing to run her mouth at a moment's notice.

        "I believe the idea was you needed a set of four of them, in order to be whole. You would give one each to a group close to you, and the whole would be greater than the sum of it's parts, as it were," she adds as she nudges Riesenlied in the arm, knowing it's the sort of tale to hook her. "More for families than for partners, I do admit. Though I suppose, depending on how you look at it, it certainly could be construed in a number of rather unfortunate ways." But it's not what they're here for, most importantly, and it's not exactly her style.

        She does crane her head over the balcony, though, because there is something to glean from this - who's spending their money early, who's being reserved about their bids, who's acting without a care. It's not strictly part of their job here today, but more a-- side endeavour. Noeline's never really gotten out of the habit of people-watching, and there's certainly a great deal to watch here tonight. After a moment, she puts her hand up, smiling-- "I hear three hundred from the balcony," comes the call from below. --confident that the portly man in the corner is going to immediately outbid her.

        He does, with a clear frown on his face, and Noeline snickers softly under her breath. 

<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.

        Riesenlied admits, the meaning of the item is truly lost upon her as well. She glances back towards Elly: "Is it a statement on how far the compassion of the heart can reach? Or, at least, I hope that is what it means..."

        She does look towards her flute of champagne, and says, "I'd best not imbibe, I am concerned as to what may happen..." as she thinks about what may still happen. This auction was a literal powderkeg waiting to happen, she fears...

        And she can't help but still fear for what that waitress' anger would mean. She has accepted that she will forever be a villain to some people, yet to sense it still... it does hurt...

        Down below, Odjn pauses at Mikleo's statement to go, "Ohh... um-- nah, I think we're just after garden-variety bad guys today, not the licorice kind. Though-- Riese did go and help out a village from getting splooshed with the stuff? We helped evacuate the villagers. Then she got cooked. We fixed it in the end though?"

        ... actually, come to think of it, Mikleo was there, being NPCed by Rose. Oops! Sorry Mikleo!!

        A few more auctions pass. It is distinctly and abundantly clear here to anyone with a pulse on the underworld that there are two types of auctions: Throwaways, effectively, to try to placate the larger, unknowing clientele who're here for the spectacle and glamour... and actual valuable items to those who are deeper and in the know.

        As is the case, as the Lots go.

        An hour later...

        "... sold, to the gentleman and his young heir for the prized sum of three hundred thousand gella."

        The room doesn't even bat an eyelid as an affluent pair walk off with what appears to be a... one-in-one thousandth replica of an ancient skyship. There was no way anyone could've outbid them!

        "Next: The essential backbone of modern Guild Galad culture, the very fabric of industrial strength! The very stuff that powers your automobiles, creates light in the darkness without flame, enflames the ARMs that empower us so.

        We have a rare specimen for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Passing an extraordinary double A-grade from no less than seven registered inspectors, courtesy of the young heiress of House Carver..."

        The display case is enormous, as is befitting the intact skull of a fifty-foot beast of legend. The skull of a Metal Dragon, on full display for anyone to see.

        The floor is thick with utterance and whispers; some are barely contained of their excitement, attempting bids prior to the lot.

        Yet in the midst of that excitement, no doubt, plans are underway... 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

The knowing smile blossoms over Josephine's face under the mask, and the waitress sweeps a bow towards the archaeologist's direction.
 
 "Enjoy the auction, lass," Cassidy murmurs, folding her now empty platter against her side, watching others filter into the main hall leading into the chamber where the festivities are about to begin.
 
 It isn't long until she inserts herself in the sizeable crowd within, moving along the fringes, taking orders from nearby people as she goes, and without any intent to fill them. If she's managed to discomfit 'Olivia', she shows no signs of noticing, sharp eyes from underneath the brim of her hat flitting from one end to another. Ida is recognizable, even in the crush of bodies - she would know that shade of blue anywhere.
 
 And now, the main event.
 
 Items of historical importance tend to fall below her list of priorities, but considering the nature of her contract, tonight at the very least it is of considerable interest to her...
 
 ...but secondary, ultimately, compared to her primary objective.
 
 She keeps moving, an easy drift along the fringes, working her way towards the near-front, bending to speak to a guest here and there, and jotting down orders on a pad of paper. 

<Pose Tracker> Sorey has posed.

 Sorey merely nods his head in response to Ida. What can he say? He certainly wouldn't dismiss anyone else's difficulties, and he knows that a lot of people have been struggling against both the problems of this world as well as the difficulties which have been imported from his home. It's entirely possible that everything could go to hell sooner than later... but they just had to keep fighting, and keep it from happening as long as possible.
 
 "That was rather exciting," Mikleo agress with Odjn, although Rose's reaction to summoning the Armatus had been... interesting to say the least. Given that she'd never shot a bow before in her life. And then had to deal with the fact that his divine weapon was something she was utterly unused to.
 
 Well, that was how these things went. Mikleo smiles, before narrowing his eyes at the appearance of the dragon skull. Despite the fact that it is a Metal Dragon... well, Dragons meant something to Seraphim, and seeing the remains of one was indeed a dire portent. "I guess this is part of why you are here?" he asks Odjn quietly.
 
 Sorey's eyes also narrow at the revelation. "...back home, that thing would be seething with malevolence, most likely," he mutters quietly. "Fell Dragons greatly outnumber the Holy Dragons, and..." he pauses, and reaches out with his senses. There's very little, but it's almost as if he can feel an echo of the rage that the dragon had once possessed.
 
 And given that they are related to Metal Demons, there is probably more than a little rage being directed at this auction for the desecration of their fallen. 

<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.

Fei says, "Well I think Lily's here. But she would've approached if she wanted to which means..." He frowns thoughtfully. "...Maybe to cover another angle."

But then suddenly--a dragon skull!! It's certainly impressive looking and the fact that it's being sold so late means it's likely to go for a great deal of gella. Fei cups his chin in thought. Despite being a peasant, he seems capable of adapting with only some dissonance. Still, he can't help but look at that skull now and think how it belonged to a living being. It's essential for powering all these things, isn't it? But surely there must have been another way to power all these things before Metal Demons entered the picture. They were only on Filgaia for a thousand years after all. What did humans use before these fossils?

"You okay?" He asks Riesenlied as he watches this. "The Carver family. Does that mean they stole the fossils or is this one different?" 

<Pose Tracker> Matilda Whitehead has posed.

Matilda spends more time in that hour than she probably should chatting with Mme. Butterfly, because -- frankly -- she's easily distracted. She makes some bids on both 'serious' and 'frivolous' items, and actually goes pretty hard for a few things... but in the end she keeps glancing off toward the slightly skulking Lily, or toward Mme. Butterfly. It might be that she's just easily distracted... or that she's looking for an excuse not to spend the money, because no matter how many windfalls she has in her life, '10,000 gella' is still an absurd amount to a farmer's daughter.

The skull seems to have Matilda's attention, but she's not going to bid on it; she's much too well-acquainted with Riesenlied to get away with such a thing, at this point. She does keep an eye out for who else bids on it, though.

"Ah -- when this is over, Miss, I'd love to give you my card," she says, without looking away from the skull itself. 

<Pose Tracker> Linvidia Diargento has posed.

 
"I don't really know... maybe it's - I can't really say," Elly says, as she raises her glass of wine. "Oh... perhaps," she tells Olivia, before she sips the wine.

18 MINUTES LATER

"Oh, a refill? Certainly."

11 MINUTES AFTER THAT

"Well, just to top it off..."

20 MINUTES LATER

"Maybe I'll try the red to go with this - what sort of meat is it? Oh, it smells delightful..."

NOW

Elly isn't sure she could stand up. She isn't sure she cares!

As Fei turns his attention to Riesenlied, Elly looks towards him and reaches up with deliberate effort towards his collar. Whereupon she deliberately and with a little flick of her hand -- actually the first time doesn't do it. The SECOND time she does it.

'It' being 'unbuttoning the top button of Fei's shirt.'

"... Fossils? Oh, ah -" Elly blinks and looks out towards the auction stage. Did they really get here this quickly?? 

<Pose Tracker> Sephilia Lampbright has posed.

It's happened. Sephilia is...bored. 

<Pose Tracker> Ambrosius has posed.

Ambrosius returns Noeline's nod with one of his own. It is slight and subtle, but one as accustomed to watching people as she is would undoubtedly notice. His attention quickly returns to the floor.

In that hour, he doesn't move much. He just continues to stoically watch each lot as they are rolled up, bid upon, and given away to their winner. One lot does catch his attention, however, and elicits a slight muttering under his breath, but he makes no move to do anything about it.

No, he was saving his energy for this particular lot. The dragon skull. His attention leaves the stage, turning toward very particular locations. He'd been eying this locations beforehand. If anything were to happen...

Well, it undoubtedly wouldn't happen right away. But he was ready to make a move, if necessary. And he did not doubt it would be necessary. 

<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.

        Slowly, Noeline sucks in a breath. She's kept Riesenlied at her arm the whole time, watching quietly over the balcony and offering light nods to those who give them attention, chatting amicably with those at her table about many of the lots. Even if she's not strictly a historian, Noeline has travelled a long way for a long time, and that's given her at least a guess or a tidbit about each lot as it comes by, even if some of them are distinctly dubious. Every once in a while she chooses to bid, but-- it's more for keeping up appearances than any actual desire to buy, it seems, because she's always quick to back off once challenged.

        "A number of groups have yet to spend anything significant," she notes quietly as she tilts her head towards a few figures around the room. "Even if you don't factor in the chance of a fight breaking out - and I'm sure I see steak knives being sharpened down there - the situation is still going to get very fierce very quickly." Sure enough, it's remarkably easy to pick out a great many furtive hands in the audience, as everyone below silently and not-so-silently dares each other to make the first move.

        In the face of it, Noeline seems rather unhurried, and glances aside towards Fei with a wry smile, pausing just for a moment to let her eyebrows soar at the sight of Elly's-- Elly's clambering. Yes. That seems the word to use. She doesn't laugh, but her eyes glint with amusement. "I suppose you could call it 'bait', though that seems a little unpleasant a term," she notes quietly, turning back to the stage to regard the skull. At least at this juncture she shows some respect, the grin fading away. "With any luck, it will flush out the ones we're looking for." 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

        Ida looks away. She can't help but feeling like she's alienated someone else, like the horrible, rotten core of her being is now oozing out where everyone can see it. She takes another sip from the champagne flute, and doesn't say much of anything for a good, long while. She's waiting. She knows what the relevant lot is, and now she just needs to see what happens.

        The skull comes out. Ida's lips part in something that's not quite a smile. That's an impressive piece, and in remarkable condition, too. She can't help but wonder if 'Ms. Olivia Carver' stole it from someone, or if she happened across it in her own travels. The scientist in her has been quietly raging at the sight of antiquities being scooped up by people who have no interest in their cultural value. Now, some of it is spilling out. "It's a shame what's going to happen to that," Ida says. She gently touches Sephilia's forearm, as if trying to keep her from dozing off. "This is one of the last lots," she says. "So they've been building up to it." She turns back to Sorey. "Fell Dragons?" she asks.

        She keeps one eye on the block. Mme. Butterfly is nearby, and so is Matilda.

        "Of course, of course," says Mme. Butterfly. "Always a pleasure to make new contacts. I'm a collector of items from this era." She raises her hand, and snaps open the fine, silk-screened folding fan--an extravagant little gesture. "Ten thousand gella," she says.

        "Fifteen thousand gella!" says a gentleman towards the back, in a top-hat and tails.

        "Twenty thousand!" says a woman in a silvery, sequin-covered dress.

<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

Most civilized people wear some kind of mask to these sorts of things. A classy costume. Something that is both remarkable and elegant, eyecatching and fantastical. Something that is not...

What... This guy... is... wearing?

He's heard before he's seen. A man in what appears to be a comprised of numerous plates of scrap metal hammered and welded together in something vaguely resembling a suit of armor. It whirrs and clanks with enitrely extraneous and unnecessary whirly bits of steampunky gear-and-sprocket contraptions that stick out of every which way. Some seem pointlessly bolted to the outside of the armor, serving absolutely no purpose but to spin and spin and spin.

The man is wearing a bucket on his head.

It's literally basically a metal bucket. There's a single hole carved out where a golden eye peeks through and something resembling a smiley face scribbled over the rest in permanent marker.

And on his chest... A giant, bolted-on Z.

What is this curious eyesore of a man doing at present, you ask?

Glad you asked!

He is presently situated very close to what amounts to the 'pastry table' where the local bakers have placed all of their fanciest and most party-worthy goods. 'Presently situated' is a bit misleading, though.

Because it's more like he's been flickering in and out of the general viscinity of the table. Each time he passes, less and less bread remains.

How mysterious, that he has abruptly come to a stop now, when such an inauspicious item has come up for bid...!

There is certainly not a croissant lodged underneath the bucket-helm. Nope. 

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

The skull of the Metal Dragon, loaded before them. Lily looks at it, once, takes in the sight of it--but then her golden eyes, behind her mask, are set on the people beginning their bids, her senses picking up the anticipation in the room--and more than that, to boot. The main event is here, so to speak, and while Lily does not bid...

...The woman in the black mourning dress does watch. Fei is right that she's here--and indeed she's covering another angle, able from this floor to keep an eye on most of the attendees quite easily. She looks back to Matilda now and then, of course, who has her attention. She is still drinking her wine, not even seeming to notice the alcohol.

...Before she sets the glass down, and begins moving at the back of the crowd. 

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

        "Oh, I intend to," Josie says, with a smile that is the exact polar opposite of innocent.

        A little bit of light conversation ensues at Josie's table:

        "Me? Oh, I'm an archaeologist. Mmhmm, yes."

        "Yes, that's right. Well, no, I doubt I've the budget to bid, but the admission is enough. You hear the finest leads at these events, and you never know,"

        Here, Josie can't help but smile brightly. "What you'll see. Isn't that right?"

        An hour passes more or less in that fashion. Josie learns some trivial and likely unimportant information about her tablemates, and a few of them -- but not her -- place some bids.
        (True to her word, she does take note of a few items and their sourcing.)

        And there they are. Here's the moment she's been waiting for.

        "My, that's a fantastic specimen, don't you think?" she murmurs to the woman on her left as she gazes at the fossil skull.

        Before surreptitiously redirecting her attention on the leading bidders.

        Come out, come out, whoever you are... 

<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.

        Riesenlied does look a bit surprised at Fei, though Noeline explains the plan before she does so-- she does keep quite mum about it, if paranoid about pairs of ears that may still be listening... but more than that, her attention has been drawn--

        Oh no, oh no.

        Perhaps Riesenlied is indulging a little in Ida-style despairing for a moment, because she spots the man with the bucket and the giant 'Z' on his chest. She can only hope it does not end in tears... at the very least, Lily is in position to hopefully... ah... dissuade him, should anything go too awry.

        She really doesn't want to lecture him on not kidnapping another professor of fossil studies.

        All she can do is watch, trying to have as impassive a face as possible as she gazes from her seat... and hope that she can forgive herself for putting the skeletal remains of one of her ancestors as bait.

        "... yeah, if I'm bein' honest, it's bait," Odjn hush-hush answers Mikleo as they both look at the giant skull of the Metal Dragon. "Someone's spirited away an even bigger bunch o' our ancestor's bones, and it ain't for a good cause, we reckon?"

        "Fifty thousand!"

        "Seventy-five!"

        The bidding has come up to a roaring race, and it's clear who the less able are as the duel continues.

        Soon, it comes down to... 

<Pose Tracker> Sephilia Lampbright has posed.

Sephilia, who is bored, has also spotted the Z-figure, and approaches, having grown hungry again and not realizing until the croissant that there was food she could pronounce here. She walks up next to him and...probably spoils her identity. "Boys are dumb." 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

        "Five hundred thousand gella!" says the woman in the sequined dress. She's one of three bidders left, the other two being Mme. Butterfly and a man in a tuxedo with a red silk flower in the lapel.

        "Six hundred thousand," says the man in the tuxedo.

        "Seven thousand five hundred," says the man in with the red silk flower.

        "One million gella," says Mme. Butterfly. A hushed murmur runs through the crowd. The two other bidders seem to consider things a moment. The man sitting next to the man in the tuxedo gives his boyfriend a look that's distinctly 'no, you are not'. The woman in the sequined dress lets out a little 'hmf.' Silence, for a moment.

        "Sold!" The auctioneer bangs the gavel with a solid thunk of wood on wood. Mme. Butterfly gives Matilda a triumphant (if vaguely smug) smile. "Now where do you suppose the two Misses Carvers went?" she says.

        Ida, meanwhile, took a glance back at the sound of the clanking. She hasn't looked back since, and does not want to. Instead, she silently prays security will drag him out and pitch the offending Metal Demon into the street, because why does he continue to have the worst possible timing, these are delicate situations.

<Pose Tracker> Fei Fong Wong has posed.

Fei Fong Wong considers. Is it bait?

He considers further: Does he care that it's bait? This kind of, shall we call it, battlefield doesn't sit right with him. He watches the skull as if he's having a conversation with its eye sockets.

The last of the lots. A trap?

He doesn't comment vocally. He's still shellshocked from yesterday's events.

He smiles periodically at Elly's growing intoxication but doesn't stop her. With luck it won't matter, not today. He reaches up and steadies Elly, worried she might be a little unsteady when she reaches towards him--but it turns out it's just to--

--undo the top button of his shirt.

Fei immediately forgets all the horror and gloom, turns red as a tomato, and says, "Is--is it better that way?"

Noeline's giving doomful wry looks.

"Are they missing...?" He says, but too distracted to really focus on the mission woops. 

<Pose Tracker> Arleph Ardan has posed.

         Arleph knew that he should have went with something far, far simpler, for a mask. But, noooo. He had to get ambitious. He had to get something unique. He had to at least TRY to make something that would very surprising!
 
         As such, the Symbologist arrives far too late to the social event. He is clad in a long, black cloak, embroiled with silvery lines alone the edges and a velvet-y red interior. A long, tall black tophat, with a feather hanging precariously at the edge of the right side of the rim. His jacket is of a nice soiree outfit, black, almost oiled black midnight with firm, white gentleman's gloves. He holds a canne, of wood and, if you haven't seen a pattern so far, also black with a red knob.
 
         His mask is the true thing. It looks like a simple affair, silvery with golden knobs with tiny, little glowing lines embroiled into flowery patterns. As he moves his head, stepping into the acution house, he looks around, arriving at the very much wrong time. As his head turn, the patterns on his mask move, shifts and almost change shape, according to the angle you see it from.
 
         In hindsight, if he wanted a piece of that fossile, he shouldn't have probably spent the last few hours making sure that his mask is properlly lenticular.
 
         Oh well. That was worth it, he thinks. 

<Pose Tracker> Sorey has posed.

 "Interesting. I'd offer to help, but it seems like you have things well in hand... and I expect that if we pitched in without knowing all the details that we'd probably get in the way," Mikleo comments to Odjn, turning slightly and snagging a drink from a passing waiter as he watches the bidding. This is something that he wants to keep an eye on - knowing how this works and who is involved might be important for later.
 
 He knows that Sorey is keeping his own notes.
 
 Sorey has no clue what is going on, and instead is watching the crowd who are doing the bidding. Some of the people here... well, he isn't someone to call out a person based on the malevolence they are producing. But he wonders why some of them haven't turned into Hellions yet. Perhaps the threshold is higher here. Or perhaps there is something that he's missing. But Sorey pauses as the clanking sound, and looks back for a moment.
 
 "...huh. That's... an interesting look," he muses quietly. Not really appreciating how close to disaster things are coming. 

<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

Pish! Zed can understand the need for planting bait! It is like fishing. You put the bait on the hook, you put the hook in the water, you wait for the fish to bite, then you reel it in and club it on the head and serve it for dinner! Zed only hopes has brought a large enough club.

Maybe that's why the baguettes have been vanishing over the past few minutes? How strange.

The thing in the bucket helmet turns its head to the fancy, dolled up girl next to him and goes--

"I am a robot. Beep. Boop."

Beat.

"Croissant?" He offers this piece of delicious buttered bread.

"I have heard that eating bread will turn you into a giant robot. It's good for you." 

<Pose Tracker> Ambrosius has posed.

The man with the bucket and the giant 'Z' doesn't go unnoticed by Ambrosius, but at the same time he was rather low on his priority list. At the very least, he could potentially be a convenient distraction at some point.

The bidding continues. And eventually, with a rather shocking one million gella bid, it is closed.

Ambrosius says nothing. He merely glances toward Riesenlied, waiting to see how she responds...for that will in turn determine how he responds. 

<Pose Tracker> Matilda Whitehead has posed.

"Ma'am," Matilda offers, with a wry smile, "In my previous encounters with the Carvers, I have never known them to be anything but inscrutable. I wouldn't so much as hazard half a guess." She downs another glass of champagne, and has had some of the duck besides; it's been a good night for food and drink. She really ought to come to more of these.

"Still! An impressive bid, ma'am," Matilda notes, glancing again to the skull -- and then to the fashion disaster that is Zed, with a wince. She opens her mouth to comment, but when he declares that he's a robot, she just lets out an exasperated sigh instead.

She turns her attention back to Mme. Butterfly again, asking, "So -- is this simply to be the world's greatest conversation piece, or do you have an industrial purpose in mind for that lovely catch...?" 

<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.

        Now where do you suppose the two Misses Carvers went?

        There is silence for a moment, the entire dining hall in awe at the heated and tense exchange of hands the fossil has gone through. There are those that have had their worldviews upturned as they realise how much larger, exactly, the fishes are in the pond of riches. There are those who quietly stew and need reassuring that the next auction will go better, and no, they didn't need such a tacky display. And of course, there is salt, as murmurs of 'the Metal Demons take you' get exchanged across the room.

        Then 'Olivia' rises. She claps her hands gently, as she shows herself at the railing of the balcony.

        Each clap seems to echo louder than before, and fairly soon, as if signalled by the presence of a greater presence of wealth and opulence... the rest of the room follows suit.

        Odjn sags to share to Mikleo, "I wouldn't be so sure... these types are the kind who'd stick a knife up anyone's back just to get a bigger ARM, y'know...? If you're offering, though..."

        'Olivia' then proceeds to step down from the mezzanine, following the curve of the staircase headed down. She commands presence each step of the way down. The cucco mask is, pointedly, gone.

        It's best to leave an impression. 

<Pose Tracker> Sephilia Lampbright has posed.

Sephilia accepts the bread gratefully. She cocks her head to one side. "Zed, there's tons of proof that that doesn't happen. I mean, I get that it's in books and stuff, and believe me I know how it feels that books are boring...but you really should learn some things!" 

<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.

        When the final amount is called, Noeline huffs softly, letting out a very indistinct breath to herself. "... that sort of bidding is barely even bidding," she decides after a long moment, glancing first to Riesenlied, then to Elly and Fei, with a rather irritated frown. "It is more of a naked challenge, if you ask me. To be honest, it makes me wonder how much the Madame knows about what might be happening already," she adds, her voice dropping lower even as she smiles brightly and offers a pleasant wave to the new owner of one (1) dragon skull.

        Her comment is perhaps dented ever so slightly by the way that Elly is still clung to Fei, but-- well, she'd be the last to complain. The poor man could probably use the stress relief, she considers, if it weren't for the fact it'd probably spook him even more.

        The demon snickers softly to herself, nonetheless. "It isn't the person who's missing, but a great many fossils. Someone employed rather underhanded means to get them - including that lovely trap over at the warehouses. So, we thought we might see if they get too greedy for their own good," she elaborates with a nod, watching at Riesenlied rises to lead the room in applause.

        "Well. I suppose it's showtime, either way," she adds airily as she joins at Olivia's side, her grin light as she accompanies the woman downstairs - but mutters a quick warning halfway. "Be ready. Just in case." 

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

        One million.

        Josie makes the mental equivalent of a low whistle, eyebrows lifted beneath the golden wolfshead mask.

        Someone has a pretty penny to burn. With any luck, it's their target.

        She marks well that table, continuing to lean back in her seat as if this were all just of mild interest.

        Absently her left hand drums out a tuneless rhythm on the tabletop.

        Almost there... 

<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

"I don't know," the robot who is definitely not Zed says. "I eat bread, and I can turn into a giant robot."

Is...

He being serious right now? 

<Pose Tracker> Sephilia Lampbright has posed.

Sephilia sighs and shakes her head. "But I eat bread too, and I can't, Zed! That's like saying that because Chauncey never eats his meat pies, he can get big, but because I eat all the meat pies for him I'm--...I'm stuck being small." 

<Pose Tracker> Ambrosius has posed.

'Olivia' moves to go meet with the woman who won the the bid on the dragon fossil. Ambrosius doesn't follow her. No, that would be far too suspicious. He had expected this, and so had they, afte rall. He watches Mme. Butterfly and the 'Carvers' for a moment from his perch on the mezzanine.

He seems still, unmoving... But he is ready. Just in case. And all the while, behind those amber covers, he is busy studying the room, taking in all possibilities. 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

        "Inscrutable, hm?" Mme. Butterfly looks pensive, for a moment. "I suppose the air of mystique does have certain benefits." Matilda asks about her intentions, and she chuckles. "Oh, I've simply been wanting one of these for a very long time," says Mme. Butterfly, to Matilda. "It's so commanding. It's a tangible piece of history, sparing it from the smelters. There's so much inferior material that will do that job just as well." If she seems a little giddy, then that's certainly forgivable, right?

        Ida lets out a soft little sigh. She sits there, watching, as Mme. Butterfly walks towards the mezzanine stairs, and once the Good Lady Miss Carver reaches them, the masked woman extends a hand for a congenial handshake. "Pleasure doing business with you both," says Mme. Butterfly. "I'll see to it this piece sits in a place of honor."

<Pose Tracker> Arleph Ardan has posed.

         At least, Arleph muses, he have a vague idea of who -- and what -- actually got the main prize of the day. Plus, showing late to a social event like this. Most of the energy is gone, most of the FOOD is also gone.
 
         But, not all of it.
 
         So, it's time to be an observer, keeping on the outskirts of the event, talking to some angered auctioneers while sipping something delicious, while spending the time to spot who's who.
 
         Or, at least, be this classy, mysterious stranger with a perplexing mask. information is about what he can grab, by now. His eyes lays on the winner, taking in sights, noting it down in his mind. Anybody that buys a dragon fossil... ought to get some attention to themselves. 

<Pose Tracker> Zed has posed.

"Well," the robot suited man puffs, "Clearly, the problem is that meat pies do not make you tall, they make you... meaty. If you want to be tall, you drink more milk! If you want to be a giant robot, you eat more bread."

This is only logical. 

<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.

        As much nerve as Riesenlied can work herself up to have, as much concern as she can muster herself into on accounts mundane and mystical... she does know when to falter would be to give up the entire charade -- and it is with grace that she finally enters into the role, curtseying prior to Mme. Butterfly crossing to her step, then segueing seamlessly to that handshake.

        "House Carver is pleased to oblige, and we are humbled by your patronage," she speaks, less in that tone of forced nobility of a nonexistent house, and more someone who must wear the mask to go to where she must be.

        Not unlike the masks she's worn before, in the roles she's endured in the Photosphere.

        "Our escorts shall arrange for shipment immediately, without delay, if it would please the Madame." 

<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.

Lily Keil continues to watch, from the dark, as she starts to disappear into an inconspicuous corner of the room. Her eyes are open, even spotting... Zed. But there are more potential interruptions than that to watch. 

<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.

        For her part, Noeline does not speak, letting Riesenlied take the lead in this crucial moment - after all, this instant isn't really the place for her quips and joking, not right after a million Gella have more-or-less exchanged hands. Besides, she's here at Olivia's arm, and the more important thing is letting her hand gently tighten around the other woman in a small note of support.

        It's probably not right to think of the woman opposite them as their 'opponent', though she can't really help a little judgement along those lines. For just a moment, Madame Butterfly's pensiveness gives her pause for thought, wondering if perhaps they've ensnared the wrong fly into their web with a prize as tempting as the one they laid out - but she still smiles brightly as she watches the exchange of greetings.

        She's still ready for the air around them to ignite. Even if this woman right in front of them isn't their target, there's every chance the real culprit will abruptly show. 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

        Mme. Butterfly flashes Riesenlied a winning smile. "That would be most kind of you," she says. "I of course plan on returning with it to Meria Boule. Can your escorts do that?"

        Ida has disappeared into the crowd. She's watching.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

Our escorts shall arrangement for shipment immediately.
 
 Green-gold eyes quietly track Ida through the crowd, before Cassidy lowers the tilt of her hat and starts to move. 

<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.

        'Olivia' bows once more, and expresses with no particular guile apparent to the presence she does of an ingenue: "Our servants will ship it to Jolly Roger by the wake of morning, and then by ship, with naught but the highest of security detail."

        It sounds very much like the trusting words of someone who has never lifted a finger in their life, who is used to having all their servants do everything for them.

        The perfect kind of prey in these kinds of dealings. 

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

        Slowly, back in the hall, Josie rises to her feet. "Excuse me a moment, I think I need to, hm... freshen up," she says to her dining companions, taking advantage of the moment to slip out.

        Time to get into position.

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