NationStates Jolt Archive

Aiwyn nods. "I knew most of that. Akaton has the international press and its records. That is part of why I put you on the top of my list. Agwene sees a world of democratic politics (and even dictatorships like the Dominion partake in the democratic age in ways still unimaginable in the Empire), a world where she can marry who she chooses (and her inclinations there grow more and more obvious, despite mother's denial), a world where she can drive cars and fly in airplanes. I want her to see the rougher, uglier side of the world outside...

"As for death, Agwene has killed with her own hands before, many times. Perhaps less than you but she is a blooded warrior. She lost her innocence in that long ago...

"Somehow, I think you will take care of my sister, in spite of all that. If I am wrong about that, tell me. If not, the rest doesn't concern me much."

"Well, since you are offering," Amaranth smirks. She reaches out and feels for the slippered foot, grasping it gently. "The shoe seems nice. I assume it matches the color of your gown. Now to see - so to speak- your foot." Amaranth removes the slipper, and sets it down next to Agwene. "Here we wouldn't want you losing that and having to wander around half bare-footed the rest of the night, would we." She examines the foot, adopting the aloof attitude one would use when judging the quality of cloth.
"Mmmm, yes. I would say you have very nice feet as well, little one. But now..." she trails off grinning and skillfully begins the threatened attempts at tickling.

Agwene squirms madly, kicking a little. "Mpphhh! Mpphhh!" She tries to roll away as her foot is tickled.

Nathi chuckles softly, and nods. "I daresay there are many, many things the international press is unaware of," she murmurs, watching Aiwyn with a half smile. "And if I have my way, so it shall remain. Still, your honesty is appreciated. Neither of us will remember this conversation in the morning, as you say, still ... perhaps some resonance of it will remain when the subject comes up again, assuring us that our choices are the correct ones. I very much doubt either one of us will be so frank when that time comes, but let me assure you, your sister will be as safe with me as she allows herself to be."

She glances at some of the men in the room, thoughtful for a moment. "Though I very much doubt I can assist you with the idea of arrange marriage ... duty I can instruct in, and perhaps that will suffice, but we in the Dominion have ever been a fiery lot when it comes to matters of the heart."

Aiwyn blushes lightly. "I wasn't talking about arranged marriage. Forgive me. This is still somewhat awkward for me to discuss. I think Agwene is...well, she might be...you know..."

It all comes together in a sudden understanding for Nathi, and she nods, and smiles. "I see ... that certainly explains her earlier reaction when we were discussing that little prank involving your mother. Statement stands, your Highness. While my personal tastes are not the same, I can't say that I feel differently about it. Such relationships are, after all, not unknown in the Dominion. We have no real bias there, aside from the religious groups and their frowning upon such practices. I imagine having a precident set with Queen Elayne and Countess Catherine may help smooth the way a bit, unless your mother insists on keeping her stance, and Agwene insists on keeping true to herself."

Nathicana shrugs lightly, glancing momentarily to the door where Agwene had left with the blindfolded woman. "Still ... I do hope she's careful in who she chooses that way. From what I've seen of her, your sister is a fine woman, and I would dislike seeing her treated poorly."

Aiwyn smiles tightly. "Gwydion always keep true to themselves. Except on Samhain, deception is against our way. I doubt my mother will change her mind, however. The same act that removed the Imperial Law defining marriage as the union of a man and a woman, mother declared that the old definition still stood for all lands directly ruled by the Imperial Family, regardless of the wishes of the Princess or Grand Duchess ruling them."

"Well then, it wouldn't be very fitting for Agwene to be forced to not be true to herself, no? And rather dishonorable of her mother to demand it of her. I wonder if that angle has ever been tried ..." Nathicana shrugs slightly.

"I suppose there is always abdication as an option, should worse come to worse. Regardless, I do hope the situation works out for the best, and when the time comes, I would be happy to have her Highness come back to the Dominion."

Aiwyn nods a little, looking off. "It is rather unfortunate that I won't remember this conversation." She glances over to Edward who's watching them quietly. "I do think your master is rather fond of you."

Draconis glances around the hall for a moment, trying to find those with whom he hadn't yet danced. Spotting Nathi and Aiwyn talking to each other, he walks over to them. Turning to Aiwyn, he speaks with a casual tone.

"Hello there, my love."

Looking to Nathi, he barely suppressed a grin at her outlandish costume.

"Hello to you as well. Though I don't believe we have met, I will have to borrow you for a few minutes in order to fulfil my geasa."

Aiwyn hugs Draconis and kisses him lightly. "Hello, love. This is Nathicana. She's my conversational companion for the evening and one of Agwene's friends. That and the Imperatrice of several billion people. Nathi, this is my husband, Phaeton Draconis."

“Well, conversation remembered or not, it seems we were already set in our paths, so it merely remains to rediscover some of the things we have tonight, no? Our destination does not change, merely our choice of routes.” She glances back at Edward and smiles warmly, and admittedly breathing more deeply than is absolutely necessary. “I believe, even given our brief meeting here, that I am rather fond of him as well, though it would be entirely too complex to explain.”

She curtsies as best she can manage in her silly garb, somehow managing to pull off some grace and style … and perhaps show a bit of flesh as well. “Well met, your Majesty. It is an honor,” she says to Draconis. “Borrow away – it would be my pleasure, and, given my master’s good grace, falls within my geasa as well.”

Nathi turns to Pedro and curtsies as well, still smiling. "And thank you, mi'lord, for the dance."

Aiwyn nods a little, turning another eye to Edward. "Well, he is an interesting man, certainly. Is it a power thing, by any chance?"

Suddenly, the haycart Agwene and Amaranth are in comes to a sudden halt, jostling the women. It settles a little as Nianki can be heard moving away. "Hello? Are you quite all...Dana! Danwyth! Danwyth!" Panic rises in her voice as more movement is heard, followed by the sound of tears.

Agwene leaps to her feet, rushing from the cart with her leash. "Mpphgg!" Her sobs soon join Nianki's, continuing for several minutes. The cart then shifts as more weight is added and starts back towards the palace.

Agwene takes Amaranth's hand, sobbing and squeezing tightly as the cart moves slowly.

Nathicana shakes her head at Aiwyn's question, again looking back at Edward with a quiet smile. "No ... no, power has nothing to do with it. I will say this - I believe I chose well. I've had a few reactions to his directions and such, to be sure, but they have been my own personal hangups, not any wrongdoing of his. He seems to have taken it as playfully offered, and while mischievous - something I can appreciate - he has yet to show himself to be a right bastard by any stretch. Given the geasa, he is given the 'right' to demand anything of me he chooses, no? And yet, so far, he has remained restrained and gracious. Even his handling of me fits what little I know of him, thanks to a little bird."

"And now," she adds with a grin, "You have me thinking and analyzing again. And remembering ..." Her glance slips again to Edward, and her head tilts slightly as if pondering something for a moment.

Pedro and Victoria politely accept the change of partners and dance away together.

Amaranth listens to the commotion around her, realizing something has gone terribly wrong. Danwyth...the sluagh..... She sits for a moment, paralyzed and shaken. She shakes herself. "Ladies, if..." she swallows a lump in her throat and continues "if anything can... if help is needed, point me in the correct direction and I will bring someone back here with all the haste I can manage." She gently squeezes Agwene's hand, offering whatever comfort she can.

Aiwyn smiles, stepping back a moment while Nathicana dances. "I'm glad you like him. He is trying his best. Stablehands don't command Imperatrices every day."

Nianki shakes her head. "There's nothing to be done. He is already dead."

Aiwyn smiles, stepping back a moment while Nathicana dances. "I'm glad you like him. He is trying his best. Stablehands don't command Imperatrices every day."

Nianki shakes her head. "There's nothing to be done. He is already dead." Her voice breaks with sorrow as Agwene clings tightly.

Aiwyn smiles, stepping back a moment while Nathicana dances. "I'm glad you like him. He is trying his best. Stablehands don't command Imperatrices every day."

Nianki shakes her head. "There's nothing to be done. He is already dead." Her voice breaks with sorrow as Agwene clings tightly.

"I'm sorry. You have my deepest sympathies," Amaranth manages to speak around the lump in her throat. She holds Agwene, gently wiping tears from the other woman's face.

Draconis resists the urge to bow in a formal court greeting, reminding himself that he is at a Samhain celebration not a diplomatic meeting. Still, he nods respectfully to Nathi before speaking to her.

"A pleasure to meet you, Imperatrice."

Looking to Aiwyn, he grins coyly.

"Well dear, if you don't mind, it seems that Nathicana and I have a dance to be dancing."

"Now what little bird told my horselord I'm an Empress, hmmm?" Nathi says with a grin. "I am, for the night, no more than his humble servant, for him to do with as he wishes. Right now, I'm honoring his wish that I choose three partners to dance with over the evening. You, my lord, will be the second of those three, thus fulfilling both our obligations - much to my pleasure, I may add. My thanks, Aiwyn. A piu tardi."

She accompanies Draconis wherever he chooses to begin the dance, settling into his lead with a smile. "So, my Lord. An elf? Not one of the sort I am familiar with however, unless I miss my guess."

Agwene hugs Amaranth tightly, whimpering into the other woman's skirt. Nianki trudges on in silence.

Aiwyn nods. "I know. But I have to stay nearby. I've been assigned to keep Nathi company for the evening."

Aiwyn then turns to Nathi. "Of course, dear lady. Just make sure you bring him back. I'm not done with him yet." She winks with a wry grin.

Meanwhile, the Shadow Queen finishes up the geasa for the night, following the same pattern she has been so far on the dozens of remaining notables and guests. When she's finished, she settles in her throne. "Before the dead arrive, I would like to present the court of Shadows."

A herald enters, blowing a horn. "Presenting His Grace of the Shadows, Grand Duke Sebben ap Balor and his lovely wife, Grand Duchess Beatrice ni Balor." Through the door comes a sidhe dressed in a billowing black cape and dark black 19th century suit. On his arm is Grand Duchess Beatrice, so recently Gwydion but now Balor. She wears a black pantsuit, a black broadbrimmed hat tilted over her face, and dark shades. Corrina just stares and Aiwyn's gaze goes to her mother.

Draconis hears the distinctive sound of a horn, turning to see the what the commotion is about. As the herald announced the guests, he comments.

"I had been wondering where the Grand Duchess was. A rather belated entrance, but I suppose late is better than never. It would be most unfortunate to miss a first class celebration such as this."

Turning his attention back to the Imperatrice, Draconis ponders his answer to Nathi’s question for a moment,

"While I would not venture to guess the full extent of your experience with elves, it is unlikely to meet one exactly like myself outside of Akaton. To be precise, I am high elf of the Akatani variety. Then again, the differences between an Akatani elf and most other elves are minimal. Mostly just a matter of lineage and history."

“Ah, I see,” Nathicana murmurs, her eyes shifting to the royalty so recently announced. “No, I can’t say as I have had the pleasure of meeting one from your nation until now, though if it helps any, the elves I am most acquainted with are those of from Menelmacar, Aelosia, and unfortunately Thelas, with a smattering of various others who live in the nations of my alliances. All quite different while as you say, maintaining similar points of reference.”

Her voice lowers as she shifts her gaze back to him, her eyes intent. “I don’t suppose you or your lovely wife would be willing to assist me in understanding the tensions there between Corrina and the good Grand Duchess Beatrice? True, I shan’t remember a bit of it come morning, but it could serve to keep me out of a bit of trouble in the meantime, given my inadequate knowledge of the Court and its machinations.”

Aiwyn frowns a little, looking towards Nathicana. "One does not accept the house of one's husband upon marriage. It is an essential part of who one is. Changing her House was a political decision by Aunt Beatrice, and a radical one. House Gwydion is considered the ruling House of the Seelie Court while Balor is the most radical Unseelie House. Gwydion and Balor are enemies. Until the last few years, the Houses were mortal enemies. A Gwydion would kill a Balor on sight and vice versa. Still...I'm not sure there isn't something more to this. Aunt Beatrice was missing for a few weeks this year and mother wouldn't comment. Also, notice her costume. It seems like she's hiding...I don't know." Aiwyn shakes her head a little, looking off. "I don't trust Sebben, not in the least."

Nianki stops the cart near the palace. She gently lifts the body up and Agwene leads Amaranth after her. They enter the palace and soon pause in a back room. Nianki sets the body down and leaves the two other women alone with the body for the moment.

Draconis listened to Aiwyn, commenting,

"Well, I imagine that would be a rather controversial move on her part wouldn't it?"

Turning back to Nathi, he replied in an inquisitive tone.

"Well, I have never personally dealt with any of the nations of which you speak, so I know little about them. Why is it so unfortunate to be aquatinted with Thelas?"

ooc edit: sorry for the short post. school's eating my life.

Family. Ties. Obligations. Honor. These things were familiar enough, yes … and there were some family vendettas going back generations in the Dominion. Nathicana nods in understanding, glancing again over at the Grand Duchess and her controversial husband, then back to Draconis as he speaks.

“Unfortunate … ah, yes. The Thelasi. Perhaps it is enough to say that by most other elves I have met, they are considered somewhat rogue. Outcast, even one might surmise. They have switched their alliances more often than paid mercenaries, allying even with (of the elves whom I am acquainted with) their great enemy, Melkor, at one time. Our limited dealings have not been pleasant. They seem foredoomed to repeat their mistakes, and seem either unwilling or unable to learn from them. As I said, unfortunate. But enough of myself, and my limited knowledge. Though I won’t remember it come the morning, while the dance lasts, perhaps you could tell me a bit more of your people and realm?”

Epicurus Kant looks to the ground as he enters the Great Hall. He wasn’t supposed to work today. Dressed as an Old West American cowboy, Epicurus had planned to spend the evening enjoying the party. The man walks up to Corrina and taps her on the shoulder, whispering in her ear. Corrina frowns deeply, lowering her eyes before she moves hurriedly from the room.

Epicurus next approaches Beatrice, whispering in her ear as well. Beatrice starts to follow her sister but her husband grabs her arm, pulling sharply. He speaks with a smirk. “We were just starting to enjoy the party, my pet.”

"Melkor you say, most disturbing."

As Draconis glanced towards Corrina and the newly arrived guest, something seemed amiss. Not knowing what it could be, he continued his dance with Nathi.

"So you want to hear of Akaton? Imagine, if you will, a place as completely unlike this place as is possible. Instead of forests and fields, Akaton has burning industrial wastes and cement deserts. The towers of our cities touch the very skies, towering up to thousands of feet in gothic splendor. It is not what could be called beautiful, but one has to feel a certain awe at the ultimate triumph of the technological over the natural."

“Oh, the Five Kingdoms and their ‘master’ are not all so bad. In fact, some can be devilishly pleasant,” she says with a secretive smile, then listens to his description, one brow arching up.

“Most definitely not the sort of elves I am familiar with, no. Very much more in tune with your accomplishments, and the works of your own hands, then? Even in the Dominion, where we appreciate technology and its gifts, we yet have forests and fields and more than a little wild spaces as yet. I can’t imagine all of that gone … still, your words paint an interesting picture.”

She too notices the leavetaking, and more, the Grand Duchess being ‘restrained’ from accompanying Corrina. “You don’t think anything is amiss, do you?” she murmurs softly, her eyes flickering back to Draconis ... then over to Edward, flashing him a warm smile as they pass.

Edward smiles and waves lightly at Nathicana. "Having fun, pet?"

Beatrice makes another move to head towards. Sebben grabs her harshly, pulling her back. Beatrice gasps sharply. "Sebben, you're hurting me."

Sebben leans in to whisper harshly in Beatrice's ear. He then tugs her across the dance floor, pulling the half-struggling woman into a dance. Her eyes widen a little but she makes no further moves towards the door.

Nianki and Corrina both pass into the room where Agwene and Amaranth wait. Corrina gasps lightly, beginning to sob quietly. She approaches, lightly touching Danwyth's neck. "He's really dead. I can't...I don't...and to..." Corrina turns and walks out of the room without another word.

Nianki sighs, lightly placing a hand on Amaranth's shoulder. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this, young woman."

Another quick glance at Beatrice and her insistant husband, then an appealing look at Edward. "I don't suppose that last dance partner choice could be a woman?" she asks in passing, her gaze again shifting meaningfully and back in hopes he might understand.

It's the very least I can do. Starting a fight in the middle of such an occasion would be poor manners indeed ... then again, the manners displayed here have been -very- different from what I'm used to ...

Edward shrugs. "If that's what you're into."

Aiwyn sighs faintly, watching Beatrice and Sebben. "Thank you, Nathicana." She puts a hand briefly on the human woman's shoulder.

Draconis cast a distasteful glance towards Beatrice and Sebben. He continues to speak with Nathicana though he is looking elsewhere.

"Well, I don't honestly know if things are alright. In the customs of Akaton, this Sebben fellow is treating the Grand Duchess in an extremely inappropriate way."

Draconis looks back to Nathi, a sort of sadness in his eyes.

"I am sorry if I have misguided you. Though I am an excellent example of one of Akaton's ruling class, elves such as myself only make up about a fifth of the population. The majority of my people are human. As such, I imagine Akaton would seem much different than the average elvish empire. This is not to say that we have no regrets. Indeed, over the centuries, there have been many times when one group or another claims the price of our progress was too high. However, what's done is done. We have chosen our path and now we must follow it."

A low moaning begins to come from outside. It increases in intensity, gradually becoming a plaintive wail. One of the windows to the Great Hall flies open, a freezing wind causing goose bumps to rise on many of the guests. The torches flicker, the light dimming. The Shadow Queen’s throne is entirely lost in enveloping shadow. Then, the wailing dies down, leaving the room in dead silence for a long moment.

“I’m afraid the Dominion must seem horribly mundane from the outside,” Nathicana says in understanding. “Never be apologetic for who and what you are, my Lord. The ends justifies the means after all, no?”

As the music comes to an end, she leans in and chastely kisses Draconis on the cheek, then curtsies. “I thank you for the dance, and the conversation, your Majesty. If you will excuse me,” she says, glancing again at Beatrice and Sebben, “There is something I must do…”

The moaning and wailing begin just as she starts towards the pair with a determined step, and she involuntarily shriks back closer to Aiwyn and Draconis, unable to stifle a shiver.

“What in hell …”

A strange crowd begins to drift in the door. Pale men and women from all the races of the Resurgent Dream begin to drift through the door. The smell of decay fills the room. As the strange crowd moves to fill the room, the pale ones begin to dance with one another. Strange words seem barely whispered just outside hearing.

The torches flicker out entirely. The air fills with cold. Each guests feels cold hands, drawing them into a dance, even if they were already dancing with someone else. There is no sound but unheard whispers. The dancers do not name themselves or ask permission from their partners. There is just silence and darkness and cold.

The creature dancing with Nathicana whispers faintly. “Thank you. I know you were going to help my little sister.”

After some time, a faint light starts to show through the windows. It’s not dawn, not yet. It’s not moonlight either. It’s merely a strange, bright, silver glow. The remaining windows of the Great Hall blow open at intervals of five to ten minutes. On the east side of the hall, the windows open onto a silver road leading off into impenetrable darkness. A strange horn blows from down the path. Just as the last strains of the horns blare fade, a seemingly endless procession of sidhe appears in the distance. At least, one might guess they are sidhe. They have the same basic form, pointed ears, perfect figures, angular faces. Still, the beings in the procession are something far beyond the ordinary beauty and grace of the sidhe. These beings shine with a literally indescribable beauty and, when one looks closer, the explanation seems to be that they are pure spirit. There is not even the illusion of flesh or matter, merely light and something...else.

The spirits don’t even head for the gates. They simply move towards the windows. They seem to pass through the very walls themselves, filling the ballroom. Not a word is heard. The processions seems to take no notice whatsoever of the people in the Great Hall. As they pass, the room seems to fill with blinding light, making everything hazy and unclear. All those in attendance find themselves filled with an intense feeling of euphoric joy. The feeling seems to linger in the air as the spirits pass.

Once the spirits are gone, the temperature and the lighting return to normal. The pale men and women detach from their dance partners, heading for the door as silently as they had come. When the last of them departs, Vicotira shuts the door behind them.

This … this is something beyond her previous experiences. This is the stuff of dreams … of nightmares. She watches in horrified fascination, as if operating from a back seat in her own body, as she dances with the cold creature. When it speaks, she feels her very blood run cold.

“I …” she begins, her voice coming out more of a breathless wheeze. “S…sono benvenuto,” she manages finally, unable to resist studying the thing more closely.

The arrival of the beings of light put her in mind of the vision Caville had shown her an eternity ago … so alien, so fluid, so ethereally beautiful and warm. She finds herself without words, the strange contrast between what seemed death and life, the supernatural world that for most of her life she had been able to deny existed so vividly displayed. Such things were not possible, a part of her insisted. It could not be. It is too much, and she feels her head growing light, her knees beginning to feel like rubber as various disjointed thoughts run through her head.

The damned, the exalted … Concordia discors … oh, god save us …

As the spirits begin to leave, she casts around for something, anything to help keep her feet solidly planted, some safe anchor, and her eyes fall on Edward with a pleading expression as she reaches out one shaky hand to him.

Draconis stares at the passing spirits with a feeling somewhere between wonder and fear. Finding himself dancing quite involuntarily with one of the dead, he knew not whether he was unable or unwilling to resist. He had seen the undead before, though nothing could prepare him for this. It was as though his wildest dreams and most horrid nightmares were manifest before him, and more still he could not tell the two apart.

Draconis felt more than heard the icy voices of the dead, trying to determine whether it was his ears or something else that detected their faint whisperings. Much to his disappointment, the dead were leaving as quickly and silently as they arrived. Draconis made the sign of the Machine God in the air before him, bowing his head in respect as the spirits departed.

"By the Deus Mechanicus, peace be to your souls."

Edward takes Nathicana's hand and squeezes it. He pulls her to him and embraces her tightly. "It's alright, sweetheart. I'm sure I was like that my first time, though, of course, I can't remember it. Do you still want to play hero for the Grand Duchess? If you need to, we can retire for the evening and you can get some rest."

"Grazie," Nathicana says, shivering as she hugs back for a moment. "I'm not sure such things will ever be within my realm of understanding. I'm not sure I'd want them to be. Some things ... ought to remain hidden. Apart. The dead have no place among the living."

She shivers again, her thoughts going to those she herself had sent beyond. One in particular causes the blood to drain further from her face - he and the deaths and events surrounding his. "No place ..."

Seeming to give herself a mental shake, she looks back to Edward and nods. "No ... you're right. I should help. I've a feeling it's needed more than I previously thought. Thank you, mi'lord. This will be my last 'dance' with others for the evening, if my count is correct, and then I'll be back at your side - your willing servant." Nathi says that last with a little smile, drawing back then looking over at Beatrice briefly. "Either this will work, or it will fail - either way, I shan't be long. Ciao, mia dolce."

Steeling herself, she makes her way through the crowd to Beatrice and Sebban, and with a good deal more strength than any mundane human has the right to have, attempts to gently but firmly remove his hand from the lady's arm, her other hand reaching for the Grand Duchess's hand.

"If I could, your Grace, borrow your beautiful wife for the length of a dance? My master has graciously allowed for one more while I serve him under my geasa, and I simply could not resist the opportunity of having the last be with the fair lady here," she says with a pleasant enough smile, though her chin tilts up in that imperious way she has, and the light in her eyes is one of subtle challenge.

Edward kisses her lightly. "You are as good and strong as you are beautiful."

Sebben glares a little at Nathicana. "Oh, take the whore. I'm sure I can find an actually pretty woman to dance with. Have fun with your pet human, sweetie." He smirks faintly and smacks Beatrice sharply on the rear as he heads away.

Beatrice takes Nathi's hand, squeezing lightly. "Thank you, lady."

Oh, if he only knew ... 'good' ... not a quality I've often heard attributed. Vengeful ... devious ... duplicitous ... ah well. He is terribly sweet ...

Nathicana doesn't pay Sebben any more attention in the least, her expression clearly stating he is not only beneath her, but not worth her time. Squeezing Beatrice's hand in turn, she smiles warmly then begins leading her off towards the door Corrina slipped through earlier.

"My lady, is there perhaps something you are in need of ... assistance with? You may find a simple woman as myself more resourceful than you might think. Perhaps in ridding yourself of ... problems?" Her eyes stay on the path ahead though she hopes her meaning is clear. "In the meantime, I can't help but think you are needed there," she says, gesturing to the door ahead.

Beatrice shakes her head. "It's not as easy as you think, miss." She follows her gaze to the door. "I think I likely am. Still, I would not leave my knight in shining armor without first giving her the dance she asked for."

"Once the problem stops breathing, I would imagine it to be quite simple indeed," Nathicana says under her breath, yet loud enough for Beatrice to hear. "As for the dance, I'll be right here when you're done. I won't lie to you, your Grace - I asked to get you away from il bastardo there. I hadn't given much thought past that, as he certainly wasn't seeming to allow you to go on your own. If you truly wish to delay, I will honor that ... but I think your family needs you all the same."

Beatrice nods a little. "I just want to repay you. And since I won't remember the debt after tonight...I'll tell you what. When I get back, you can change into a more respectable costume." Beatrice squeezes Nathi's hand lightly and heads through the door. A few moments later, she enters the room with her sisters, Agwene, and Amaranth.

Edward smiles, walking over to Nathicana and laying his hand on her rump. "That was very sweet of you, girl. Too bad she won't remember it. Still, I don't count that as a dance, seeing as you didn't, well, dance."

Nathi shifts slightly against Edwards hand, smiling darkly as she watches the woman depart.

"Oh, I don't know about 'sweet', my dear ... it irked me to see her roughed up like that, and ..." She trails off, deciding it best not to drag out her more personal reasons for her anger at such actions. "No, no it wasn't a dance, but ... I wonder."

Her eyes shift to Sebben, her face taking on a cold, calculating expression. "She won't remember, no ... but neither would anyone else, no? Would it really be such a crime if he is such a monster? 'The ends justify the means', they say."

Edward frowns a little. "I wouldn't call it a crime. But do you want to risk it? I know you're a skilled warrior but he likely is as well, plus the benefits of his magics. I think you should let it go, love. Keep the woman out of his hands for a few more moments when she returns, perhaps with an actual dance. Then we shall retire and you'll have forgotten it in the morning."

"Magics indeed," she says softly, her eyes following the man. "Strong enough magics I suppose, to overcome a snapped neck? Perhaps a fist through his chest? A crushed skull? There is more to me than meets the eye, be assured. Or if something more subtle is required, perhaps a dagger through the ribs ... I'm certain your country here has potent poisons, no? Ones that could 'accidentally' find their way into a certain person's drink, perhaps?"

Nathi ponders for a moment, calculating. "No, no I normally wouldn't take such steps, truth. But you have to admit - this is a unique opportunity to quite possibly do something decent ... something, perhaps, needed?"

Edward shrugs. "Go for it, if you want. Just give us a kiss first?"

"Oh, I'll give you more than a kiss," Nathicana says with a very mischievous smile, wrapping one arm around him and pulling him close to kiss him fully, deeply. Her other hand wanders down along his chest, then stomach, then shamelessly lower in her bold explorations before slipping around back to give his backside a firm but gentle squeeze.

"Just ... how much time do we have til dawn?" she asks inquisitively, somewhat curious as to his casual attitude of her intent, yet finding it oddly reassuring.

Edward kisses back passionately, wrapping his arms around Nathi and holding her close. Her runs his hands up and down her back, lightly squeezing her rump. "I'd say we have about three hours, my dear. What's your plan?"

He holds her in his arms still, even as they talk. "I'll help you, if you're doing this. I don't want such a gorgeous creature to die while in my keeping."

The raven-haired woman shivers lightly, at first not making any move to distance herself in the least as she nestles in close, then kisses him again, her own hands caressing wherever they can reach, clearly not concerned in the least with their surroundings.

"I'm more resilient than you might think, mio dolce ... but I shan't turn down such honorable assistance, if you find it within your conscience to do so. I'm finding myself rather ... unimpeded by usual restraints tonight. And while seeing the ... the dead earlier was not something I wish to repeat, something tells me that that one would be better off on their side of the veil than ours. And given that ... I can't help but think I could be of assistance here. I'm not sure I have a set plan, other than to see if that bastard won't accompany me out of the ballroom ... I would think an outright unprovoked attack here would not go over well ... Still, if that sword you wear is functional as well as pretty, that I can also use."

Draconis stands still a moment, recovering from the visit from the dead. Reminding himself that this was not the first time he had seen the dead walk amongst the living, he brought his thoughts back to the present.

His attention turned to the conversation between Nathicana and Edward. Now, one must understand that Draconis never met an assassination attempt he didn't like, and he rarely let a concern for life get in his way.

"I couldn't help but overhear the two of you discussing a certain Duke Sebben. Now, I for one wouldn't miss him if he were to suffer an unfortunate accident, if you know what I mean."

Draconis twisted his wrist slightly, a mechanism extending a wicked looking curved blade into view for an instant before retracting it back into the sleeve of his coat.

"If I can be of assistance, just ask."

Edward pauses a little. "If you want him out of the room...Well, he'd consider it beneath him to pick you up, much less be picked up by you, even if he knew who you were. A human's a human to him. If we wanted to go that rou...Well, let's just find another way to get him out of the room." He shudders faintly.

"Well, gentlemen ... perhaps the direct approach then, is the best? And even though it may prove the more dangerous ... it should perhaps ensure less 'intervention', no?" Nathicana says to the both of them.

"How's this for a thought? I challenge the bastard to a duel for some insult or slight or other. Do you think in his arrogance he'd jump at the opportunity to 'humble' a mere human?" she asks, her enthusiasm building.

Gods this is insane. No idea just how effective he can be, and yet ... damned if it doesn't feel right.

"I would suggest, on the offhand chance I begin to fail in my goal, that a certain level of say ... underhandedness would not be amiss?" she says with a pointed glance to Draconis' hidden weapon.

Edward shakes his head a little. "As a Shadow Courtier, he still has authority tonight. And he'd consider bothering you duel you beneath him. He's likely order guards to haul you off and beat you. Then, once you were disabled, they'd restrain you for his mercies later. He's not a nice man."

Glancing around the room to see if anyone is watching, Draconis's voice is barely above a whisper.

"I would have to agree that underhanded means are the best means of dispatching this pig. However, if he perishes where all can see, there might be some... more immediate consequences for ourselves."

Pausing for a moment, he looks intently at Sebben, studying his every move.

"Too arrogant even to fight his own duels, eh? Still, there must be some way to get him into a less public setting."

"As much as I hate pulling an innocent into this, perhaps ... bait?" Nathicana says softly. "There are perhaps several ways in which this could be accomplished, I would think. Her Grace Beatrice did offer to change me out of these clothes to something more suitable, come to think of it. I would guess that might require us to leave the room ... perhaps something provocative said between them? I somehow doubt very much she would mind being free of him after all."

She ponders for a moment. "Barring that, he mentioned finding some woman worth his while as well. Again, subterfuge ... a trap?"

"Nathicana, I like the way you think. A trap, perhaps an ambush of sorts, would work excellently."
Looking back to Sebben, Draconis commented.

"One must really wonder what Beatrice saw in him."

Edward snorts a little at Draconis's comment. "You don't honestly believe she willingly married him, do you?"

Nathi gives Edward's hand a gentle squeeze and nods. "That was my impression as well, hence the suggestion ... we just need to take care that in these remaining hours we don't run afoul of those holding sway, no? Care, caution, finesse ... luring him out seems the most reasonable direction at this point - if we are intent in our goal, that is."

She looks to the both of them with a sly, questioning expression. "This is, after all, my little folly - and folly it quite likely is, despite the good that may come of it, I won't deny."

Edward nods. "I have a plan. What if you were to dance with Beatrice like she promised you? Then, end the dance closer to Draconis than to Sebben. Draconis could then dance with Beatrice and get her to leave the room with him. A jealous Sebben would charge after. Then...I hate to do this Nathi, but it's the only way he'd go with you...then Draconis could offer Sebben possession of Nathicana as a token of apology. Sebben wouldn't mind accepting a human as a pet, just not a proper lover. He'd drag Nathi to the back and then...Well, then it's up to you, beautiful. I hope you know what you're doing."

Wrapping Edward up in a warm embrace, Nathi kisses him softly. “You really ought to come work with me when this is all over, my dear. I have more than simply horses to manage, after all,” she says with a sly wink. “But seriously – it seems a good plan. We avoid implicating Beatrice in any way and avoid as well any need for cooperation on her part. Draconis here, after all, will be simply following his geasa in dancing, and I’m certain she would appreciate more time away from that bastard.”

“Don’t worry yourself, mia dolce,” she says to Edward with a reassuring smile. “I’ve been in far worse situations than this, and come away from it if not unscathed at least still kicking. The sleeves of this raincoat offer ample room for hiding a dagger or two, if any such are available, perhaps … the pockets for a smaller blade … could even rig a sword under the back, but for up close work those are too unwieldy … even an impromptu garrote … I’ve faith in my own two hands, to be sure, but there is after all no need to draw undue attention to out of the ordinary ‘attributes’,” she continues, half to herself, before pausing. “Again, I keep forgetting. No one will remember.”

Grinning broadly, showing perhaps more teeth than is absolutely necessary, her expression definitely showing a touch of eager … malevolence, she nods to both. “I like the plan. No apologies necessary. Still … backup is good, no? In case my arrogance gets the better of me. I would suggest following at a discrete distance, and only bursting in or interfering if you either cease to hear anything at all, or hear me scream for ‘Marrik’,” she says finally, a shadow passing over her face at the name. “Have to keep up appearances, after all. And something tells me he’s the type who enjoys causing pain and fear.”

Draconis considered the plot for a minute or two, thinking over all the ways it could go wrong. Turning to his conspirators, he speaks

"It sounds a bit risky, especially for you Nathicana, but if you're willing, I'll go through with my part."

Twisting his wrist in the opposite direction as before, the mechanism fully extends from his coat sleeve, leaving the handle of the curved knife in Draconis's hand. Offering it to Nathi, he continued.

"You'll need this more that I will. Besides, I've got one just like this up the other sleeve, just in case..."

Edward kisses back. "Perhaps. But I shan't remember the offer in the morning, nor shall you. Besides, I'm quite afraid I might find myself overcome with jealousy of your beloved. I merely count myself lucky to have you this one night."

Meanwhile, servants come and remove the body from the backroom. Nianki and Beatrice return to the Great Hall. Agwene remains in the back, nuzzling lightly against Amaranth. "Mph?"

Nathicana accepts the knife from Draconis carefully, positioning herself to shield the exchange from other possibly prying eyes, then secreting it away in her sleeve, using an unneeded tie from her hair to secure it temporarily in place. “Grazie, your Majesty,” she says quietly. “Lets hope this all goes quick and quiet.”

She turns to Edward again with a wistful smile. “A pity … truly a pity … after all, he doesn’t mind sharing, and you, my dear, are worth far more than just your rather fine body. Perhaps we just need to arrange things in such a way that when the morning comes we’re together regardless, no? Can’t say as I’d mind, remembering or not. And though it really doesn't matter, and you won't remember come morning anyway, I do at least want you to know my name before I set out on this idiocy. Nathicana D'Aquisto of the Dominion,” she says, leaning in for another soft kiss. "And top dog in that delightfully devious rabble."

As Beatrice and the others re-enter the room, Nathi takes a slow breath. “I think it’s time, gentlemen. Audentes fortuna juvat, after all – fortune favors the bold.” She pauses for any last minute instructions or well wishes, then without a backwards glance, she winds her way confidently through the crowd towards the Grand Duchess, curtseying politely when she reaches her.

“If things are as I feared, your Grace, I am deeply sorry. Still, if you are willing, we yet have that dance, and perhaps for a few moments at least, you can take comfort in the arms of one who would be your friend, if no longer than for the evening.”

Pedro and Victoria dance closely, temporarily forgotten for the moment as they both decide what comes next, what is to be done. Upon Grand Duchess Beatrice's entry Pedro gazes at her a while, trying to see her face through the brim of the hat and the sunglasses. He had been waiting some time to meet her back home upon hearing word of her visit, but she was forced to cancel because of the war with Androtia, and now he had a chance to meet her in person. Briefly he looks down at his attire and dismisses the idea, realizing that even if he did bother to introduce himself she'd not remember him by morning anyway.

At the moment he and Victoria mutually decide to return to the banquet table for some cold refreshments, the window blows open and the dance of the dead begins.

Pedro is stunned completely by the sudden, eerily silent entrance of the pale figures. He stops at the table, half a small cake in hand, gazing with a noticeably slack jaw at the dancing figures. The smell of decay reaches him and he puts the cake down, looking in shock at Victoria. She comes over to him and takes up his hand, squeezing it tightly. As they watch, both horrified and fascinated, a pair of the pale, emaciated dancers steps in their direction. Pedro feels his breath escape in a cold, sucking rush as the female of the pair gently takes his free hand in a clammy grasp. He steps away from his wife, taking the wraith's other hand, finding a time to dance to and gazing at his new partner's face in utter disbelief. He feels his head fill with cotton and works to stay focused on reality, finding very little to grab onto.

After he parts with the woman and returns to Victoria in a haze of detachment, the figures of light waft into the room through the walls. The feeling of inexplicable joy, in direct contrast to his previous mood, feels him up so quickly he is unable to process everything that's happening. He feels his mind withdraw into denial for a moment. When he again can take stock of his surroundings, the sidhe-like figures have gone, as well as the elation. He finds Victoria again and kisses her briefly, mentally kicking himself for not being able to do so of late back home. She is startled for a moment but draws near to him in an embrace and Pedro gazes at where the figures had been, breathing simply, "Dios mío." He looks to the walls for his Secret Servicemen, who all amazingly retain their stoic vigilance. The two young soldiers at the table are putting away their sidearms, which they had evidently reached for during the entry of the dead.

There is so much to this world, Pedro says internally. Too much more than one person could ever hope to learn of. I am so small compared to the rest of the world, President of the Latin Union or no. He looks down at his wife a moment, then adds, husband and father or no.

As the others in the room resume their previous postures or begin huddling to chat - Pedro notes in particular the gathering of Nathicana, Draconis, and another - he and his wife try to shake off the passing of the ethereal with the universal remedy: more food and wine.

Edward smiles a little. "Waking up next to the most beautiful woman in the world, that would be a memory to cherish, even if I forgot the acts that proceeded it. We'll see what happens, dear." He kisses her once more.

Beatrice nods to Nathicana. "I would be your friend, as well. For all the ludicrousy of the outfit, you are truly the class act tonight." She takes one of Nathicana's hands in hers, placing her other hand on the woman's waist.

Meanwhile, Amaranth feels her blindfold untied and pulled from her face. When she looks around, she is in a room with a tall blonde woman with swan's wings and glowing eyes. "Hello, my dear. I am sorry to take your companion from you but she is needed for something."

"Oh bah, your Grace," Nathi says with a wry smile, taking the lead, making sure the other woman is comfortable. "Usually I'm one to cause some sort of scene or other ... I doubt tonight will be any different. It's not over til it's over, no?"

As they dance, she glances around the room, keeping track of both Sebben and her compatriots, waiting for a moment before carefully asking one of the questions that's been bothering her.

"Your Grace, if I may be so bold ... you didn't seem happy to be with your husband. Is all well?"

Sebben is dancing with a sidhe lady dressed in a black and silver gown. Edward is watching Nathicana worriedly.

Beatrice smiles teasingly. "Oh, let me compliment you." She looks away at the question about her husband. "Things are...better than the alternative."

"I'm sorry for striking a nerve, your Grace. It's not my intent to cause you pain on account. I just can't help but wonder if the source of your sadness were to disappear tomorrow, if things would be better for you. True, such things are idle banter and daydreams I suppose, but ..."

She shrugs eloquently, and gives Beatrice's hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry yourself. For now, you don't have to deal with the man. And if you're willing, you can assist the good Draconis in completing his geasa by gracing him with a dance after ours has finished. What say you?"

Draconis made his way across the room, acquiring a drink on his way. Sipping it, he carefully watched Sebben from a shadowy corner. Relieved that the future victim didn't seem to be aware of the danger, Draconis thought to himself.
If I had much of a conscience, I might almost feel guilty about leading that bastard to his death.
However, the thought passed quickly from his mind and along with it any sort of remorse. Reminding himself of his task, Draconis walked casually out into the hall, making sure he remained between Sebben and Beatrice. He moved slowly and quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than was absolutely necessary.

Beatrice squeezes back. "Certainly. I'd love to dance with him." She smiles a little, looking Nathi in the eyes. "You're very kind."

"Not kind enough by half," Nathi murmurs quietly, manuevering their steps to wind closer to Draconis as the song begins reaching its end. "It is interesting, I suppose, when one is allowed to step out of their usual shoes and into ... well, others I suppose, or when one is viewed with different eyes, the judgements and opinions that come into play. All the same, I thank you."

She flashes Draconis a look, nodding her head slightly to indicate he should approach as the song ended, hoping for the transition not to look too terribly contrived. "I hope that the rest of your evening goes well, your Grace. And that tomorrow, perhaps things will look better."

Beatrice smiles a little. "You've been kind to me. That makes it reasonable for me to call you kind, does it not? It is nice to have friends for the night."

She hugs her briefly as the song ends before pulling away. "I think you for your good wishes. I hope you have a nice evening with your Edward." She smiles and winks, turning to Draconis.

"Oh," says Nathi, glancing over to Edward and flashing him a brief, reassuring smile, "I plan to ... I plan to. Grazie, your Grace. Yes, it is good to have friends, wherever the odd places you find them. Take care."

She draws back a bit, keeping a close eye on the pair, waiting for the fiasco to begin.

Spotting Nathi's nod, Draconis sees that it is time for him to fulfil his part in this little plot. Moving with all the elvin grace he could manage, the Akatani glances at Sebben to make sure he is watching. Draconis thinks to himself that if jealousy was what he needed to cause, Sebben would be simply furious.

Walking up to Beatrice, he offers her his hand, speaking with that certain sinister charm he does so well.

"Hello M'lady, care to dance?"

Beatrice takes his hand, smiling. "I'd love to."

Draconis takes Beatrice's hand and leads her across the dance floor. Though on the outside he remains calm, inside he is desperately trying to find a way to get her to leave the room in his company. After a moment's thought, an idea comes to him. Smiling, he comments to Beatrice, perhaps adding more emphasis on the word die than was necessary.

"It is oh so crowded in here and the sky tonight is to die for. Why not continue our dance out under the stars."

Beatrice dances close, smiling softly. "I would love to go outside, m'lord. It is very crowded in here and I am sure the night sky is quite beautiful."

As Beatrice dances towards the door, Sebben frowns, moving to follow.

Noticing Sebben's reaction, Draconis smirks, thinking to himself that this plan was working excellently. Leading Beatrice outside, he slows just long enough to nod slightly towards Nathicana, hoping she would notice that her part of the plot would be coming up shortly. Turning his attention back to Beatrice, he spoke softly.

"There, now isn't this better? I suppose it's just me, but the night sky here is wonderful. I'm afraid Akaton isn't the best place to live if you want to see the stars, too much light pollution."

Nathi quietly takes a glass of wine, following the couple at a distance. She calmly went through a relaxation exercise in her mind, looking around the room for all the world as if she had nothing more to be concerned with than what outfit this or that lady was wearing, or the turn of that gentlemans calf. The raven-haired woman kept a keen situational awareness about her while keeping her calm exterior, noting the placement of this, that, or other persons, most especially Sebben and her co-conspirators.

Beatrice looks up at the sky, smiling faintly. "It truly is lovely, is it not?"

Sebben storms up angrily behind them. "Just what are you doing with my wife?!"

Draconis remains strangely calm as Sebben comes up behind him, smirking slightly at the outburst. Success, he thought, turning to face Sebben. Trying to sound as sincere as he could, Draconis spoke.

"Your wife? Oh dear, I imagine this must look quite scandalous. You see, I was just taking her out here to observe the heavens, nothing more. Terribly sorry for the misunderstanding."

He pauses for a moment, as though deep in thought. When he begins again, he gestures at Nathicana through the still-open doors.

"I will grant you ownership of this serving girl as proof of my sincerity in this matter. She is quite loyal, beautiful as well. She would be willing to perform just about any task you would expect from a servant, as well as certain... other services, if you know what I mean."

Draconis silently hopes that this would be enough to get Nathi alone with Sebben long enough to bring this little conspiracy to a successful conclusion.

Sebben smirks. "Out to look at the stars. Sure. I'm married to the cheap whore, I know the only filthy interests that go on in her wayward excuse for a mind. Still...I'll take your servant. Though I don't know what it is a well trained servant won't do without adding things on."

Sebben glares at all of them, walking over to Nathicana and tossing her over his shoulder like he was hoisting a sack of potatoes. He places his hand on her rump and starts to head for a backroom. "Come." he barks at Beatrice, as though giving orders to an animal.

Sebben walks down the halls, arriving at a bedroom. He kicks the door open and casually dumps Nathicana to the ground. He doesn't bother to make sure she lands safely, much less on something soft. Then he pulls back the collar of Beatrice's shirt, revealing a black leather collar. He takes a chain and attaches it to the collar, padlocking it on. He then padlocks the other end of the short chain to the door know. "I wouldn't want you running off while I have my fun."

Beatrice gives a sad, terrified, apologetic look to Nathicana, even as Sebben shuts the door, locking it behind him. He turns to Nathi with a truly evil smirk.

Nathi shoots Draconis a panicked look as he offers her over to Sebben, letting out a quick surprised shriek of fright when he picks her up.

Oh gods, I hope he doesn’t think anything of the weight difference … dammit. It’s not as though I could explain it off as the outfit – there’s nothing to it!

As he hauls her off, she casts a furtive glance at Draconis, silently and subtly trying to assure him all was well, then immediately sets into begging and pleading, struggling weakly. She uses her training to land with as few bumps and bruises as possible, taking advantage of his attention being on Beatrice. She scrambles back against the wall, dredging up the most awful expression of fear she can manage, shaking and cringing – unfortunately unable to conjure up tears on the spot.

Nathicana meets Beatrice’s look, risking a quick wink before Sebben turns back around to sneer at her. She shrinks back further, wrapping her arms around herself … and freeing the blade up her sleeve, letting the hilt slip down into her right hand, her left side turned away from him as if expecting a blow so she can hide her movements.

And like the ‘good servant’ she is supposed to be, she doesn’t speak ‘til spoken to.

He is … a scary one.

Sebben smiles, looking her over. "First, you need to lose everything but the raincoat. Then I'll secure you to the bed. And don't act so frightened. I'm only going to thrash you if you disobey. If you're good, I'll just use you for awhile and then leave you tied here. After all, I wanted want to wake up the morning after Samhain lying next to a cheap human slut, would I? Not much dignity in that."

Shrugging, he begins to undress ((which can go without description, thanks)).

Pedro glances up from his wine upon hearing the commotion outside. When Beatrice's husband returns, dragging her and striding forcefully towards Nathicana, Pedro stiffens. As Sebben hefts Nathicana over his shoulder and starts to take both women to a back room, Nathicana clearly against her will, Pedro slowly rises and puts down his wine glass, casting an inflamed look at Victoria, who rises with him.

"This is getting out of hand," Pedro says simply. "I don't know who that man thinks he is, and regardless of tonight's nature he can't treat either of those women that way."

"I couldn't agree with you more," his wife replies. She steps over to the two soldiers from the embassy guard they had taken with them, speaking a few words. The soldiers, both young men in dress uniform, stand up and loosen thr clasps on the holsters to their sidearms. In a moment all four of them are proceeding down the hall they had seen Sebben leave through, with the obligatory Secret Service presence following in their shadow.

On arriving at the door, Pedro reaches his hand out to knock, then feels unbelievably stupid for even considering knocking. Victoria gives him a quizzical look.

"Silly old bear," she chides, and reaches to turn the handle. It won't budge.

Beatrice looks at Pedro and Victoria from the end of her chain, sighing lightly. "I'm sure he's locked it. He's...he's a beast. This is how he treats me minutes after I found out my brother was dead. Let me just say there's a reason I had to wear this costume." She looks down to the floor, then glances up nervously to Pedro's troops. "Those are..." she struggles for the word "...firearms? You might be able to shoot the door open. He likely has troops nearby, however. Quite a few Thallain traveled here with us."

Corrina moves back into the ballroom, heading for the foot of the throne. She sighs heavily, sinking down into a sitting position at the Shadow Queen's feet. The Shadow Queen leans over and strokes her hair lightly, smiling a little. "What's wrong, Corr Corr?"

Corrina looks up briefly, speaking in a barely audible, heart-broken tone. "Danwyth. He...he's..."

The Shadow Queen just nods. "I'm sorry, Corri."

((OOC: Woops. I thought Beatrice was inside.))

Victoria rushes over to Beatrice and tries to take the padlock off from around her neck. On finding it to be irremovable, she says, "Your brother? Do you mean... Danwyth?" Her eyes cloud a moment on remembering the dance she'd had with him earlier.

"Troops or no, he can't treat you like this, nor the Imperatrice," Pedro asserts. He steps briefly over to a nearby Secret Serviceman, the leader of the detachment, and whispers, "Send a man back to the embassy and get more soldiers. We want the upper hand in case this gets standoffish. In the meantime, tell your men to form up and prepare to defend this hallway, just in case."

The man nods but reaches into his coat pocket and draws out two .32 caliber subcompact pistols, handing them to Pedro. "For your own protection, Mr. President," he says in a low voice. Pedro considers a moment, then nods and takes the weapons, handing one to his wife and pocketing the other. The Secret Serviceman rushes off to carry out his orders.

As the full detachment begins to file into the hallway, their hands inside their suit jackets for quick drawing of their weapons, Pedro turns to Beatrice. "Grand Duchess, I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, but I hope we'll have time to talk later." He turns to the two soldiers. "Open the door," he orders.

Victoria draws Beatrice away from the door and stands in front of her as the soldiers draw their sidearms, flip the safeties off, and step back. Both men brace against recoil and fire three rounds each at the door lock. The noise reverberates down the hallway and temporarily deafens all in it.

Beatrice nods a little. "Yes, Danwyth. It is not so hard on a night like tonight. We always know that the soul is immortal. Not only is it taught by nearly every faith ever propounded, but it has been proved as a matter of reason by Socrates. Still, tonight I could see his soul. I saw him leave for a better place. As disconceting as the spirits from the shining path can be to the living, there is little doubting that they come from a place of light and joy."

The Shadow Queen perks an elegantly pointed ear at the gunshots. "It seems your guests are rebelling against Grand Duke Sebben's rule, unless someone else has also angered them."

Corrina peeks up. "I suppose you're going to mobilize your guard."

The Shadow Queen shakes her head. "Not in the least. My soul is quite dark, Corri, make no mistake. I don't flinch from slavery or murder or torture when it suits me. I do not judge Sebben for such things either. But I am a woman. I do not intend to lift a finger to save a misogynist of that degree. Still..." she pauses a moment, barking orders to her guards. "Seal off the palace! No one can get in or out. I'm not letting Sebben and his troops start a war with foreign armies over this. The guards he brought and the guards of everyone else can fight it out in isolation!" The guards move to obey.

“O-of course not, my Lord,” she stammers, tensing then positioning herself as he undresses, waiting for him to have his pants down around his thighs before launching herself at him with much more strength than any normal human has a right to. She draws the knife from her sleeve as she moves forward, her solid body aiming to connect low, the knife held higher for a vicious slash towards his throat.

Nathi makes no sounds beyond those of her odd clothing shifting together, her eyes focused on her ‘prize’. Even the gunshots, while unexpected, don't break her concentration.

Sebben grunts sharply as the blade cuts into his flesh. Blood starts to spill all over the carpet as he raises one hand, flame forming around his fist as he spews blood. Unleashing the ball of searing hot flame, he launches it straight at Nathicana. The fireball's movement is quite rapid though, when it hits, it does not burn. It is pure kinetic energy, albeit quite a large dose of it. While not nearly enough to kill a woman with Nathi's enhancements, it is certainly enough to take quite a toll.

((OOC: Is the door lock destroyed? Can the doorknob be pulled off now so that Beatrice could be freed?))

((Yes and yes))

Cursing in a most unladylike manner, Nathi turns her side into the blast as much as possible, trying to minimize the exposure, though at such a close range, it’s only partially successful. She takes the blow with another pained curse, her teeth clenched as the force of it throws her back from him and knocks the breath out of her. She hadn’t had time to set her feet in or get a hold, mores the pity – for her part at least, though the satisfaction of drawing first blood helps balance out the painful bruises she can already feel developing. If not for the augments Shodey had taken such care in installing, she doubted very much she’d still be standing after a blow like that.

It certainly hurts bad enough as is, bone lacing and myomer muscles or no.

The woman gets to her feet, facing off against Sebben, her face a grim mask of determination and occasional badly-masked grimaces. “Well isn’t that a pretty trick,” she manages between clenched teeth, bloodstained knife at the ready, balanced on the balls of her feet as she studies her opponent, unsure of just how much damage she's done. He's clearly no easy target.

Pedro's eyes widen on hearing Nathicana's curses, fearing the worst.

Victoria pulls the chain holding Beatrice to the door from the destroyed knob, and Pedro steps forward, kicking the door in with the bottom of his foot. The two soldiers covering him, Pedro steps slightly aside to give them room to fire should they need it and peers in.

For a moment he's unsure what to make of the situation. Obviously Nathicana was defending herself, and very well, too, but now her would-be assailant is wounded and has an escape route. Most likely he'll try to bolt. He reaches into his pants pocket and draws the subcompact, keeping it out of sight but ready. His Secret Servicemen draw their weapons in response and cover the doorway or the approaches to the hallway. Victoria draws her weapon and stands protectively in front of Beatrice.

"You've marred the good nature of this night, sir," Pedro says to the wounded man. "This woman is great and powerful and you have tried to defile her. You are lucky she did not kill you immediately."

As Sebben drags Nathicana away, Draconis scowls in disgust at the barbaric way he treats her. Noticing the guests from the Latin Union move to follow Sebben, he turns away, awaiting a signal from Nathi. Out of the corner of his eye, Draconis watches Corrina and the Shadow Queen, absently wondering what they could be discussing. Just as he is about to settle into the shadowy corner from which he had been observing the proceedings, a series of gunshots ring out.

Draconis swears to himself, spinning on the spot and heading towards the door, now crowded with secret service men. Run was not the right word. Rather, Draconis's movements were more like a glide, though whether or not his feet were actually on the ground was hidden by his floor length trench coat. From the sleeve of this coat, his remaining knife darts out into the open. A ten-inch serrated blade of shining mithril steel, it was clearly a deadly and quite painful weapon.

As he approaches the door, he sees the guards of the Latin Union freeing Beatrice as they try to shoot off the lock on the door. As more secret service men move into the hall, his eyes briefly glow a dangerous bright blue. Gone from his voice is the pleasant charm of the evening, replaced by a merciless, imperious tone.

"What in the name of the gods is going on here! Have you declared war on this party?"

As Pedro kicks through the door, Draconis follows him through, showing none of the surprise the humans around him. Instead, he raises his weapon, pointing the blade at Sebben's throat. He shouts to Pedro, though keeping his eyes on his target.

"I'll explain it later President, but take cover immediately!"

Sebben sneers at Pedro as he gets to his feet. "She is no better than a beast. Neither are you. The fact that she can draw blood merely increases her status to that of a mad beast in desperate need of being put down. What title the other humans give her, I care not, anymore than I feel compelled to treat the pack alpha of a group of stray dogs as a genuine sovereign."

As Draconis's blade is pressed to his throat. "You, I suppose, are more than a beast. Still, you are not my peer and Aiwyn is a whore for letting you into her bed. Still, that's to be expected. She is my wife's niece, after all." Before his throat can be pierced, Sebben turns and makes a run for it, limping badly from his wound.

Once she is freed, Beatrice runs around the edge of the door. She holds a hand out, fingers spread. "Entangle!" The sheets of the bed seem to rise up on their own, wrapping tightly around Sebben's arms and legs as the man falls.

“You stupid sons of b—“ Nathi glares at the others, immediately springing after Sebben with unnatural speed. To say she is surprised at the entanglement spell would be an understatement, though it gives her pause for only a brief moment before she continues on, leaping atop the man and yanking his head up by his hair, her own blade to his throat.

“Now who’s the beast, you sniveling coward? Trussed like a pig for the slaughter, it looks. What – unable to entice any woman to your bed, so you resort to force and magics? I doubt you’ve got enough there between your legs to make anyone quiver, let alone scream for mercy like you seemed to be insinuating earlier. I pity you, worm.”

Sebben's eyes have a look of real fear in them now but it doesn't quite erase the contempt. His expression is that of a man who knows he is about to be killed by a particularly revolting rabid dog. "It is the slut I should have killed instead of married who restrained me, dog. You're just biting my neck, as many a lowly beast has done to its better. The boar who gores the hunter is no less a pig for it." With that, he spits directly in her face and simply waits contemptuously for the killing stroke.

Meanwhile, Sebben just glances at Beatrice. The woman lets out a blood curdling scream and falls to her knees. Gloved hands grasp at her collar and then at her...shall we say, sensitive places? Her eyes tear at the immense pain she seems to be in, one heeled foot kicking miserably on the floor.

Sebben sighs lightly, shaking his head. "I really should have married a lady. Less stringent discipline might have been necessary and she wouldn't be sicking disease carrying human whores on me."

“No one chose this but me, boy. Go to whatever hell awaits you knowing that regardless, you died by my hand.” Nathi doesn’t bother bandying words any further with Sebben, taking quick action to relieve Beatrice of any further pain as she quickly, neatly draws her blade across his throat, cutting hard and deep, then reverses the blade and slams it home through his heart. Her expression is cold, unemotional, professional, as if doing nothing more than dispatching of vermin. Which in her mind, she is.

Sebben gasps once more before he falls dead. A shining spirit is seen standing over the body, looking down quietly for a moment. Turning, the dead man's soul runs through the wall and out of the room to parts unknown.

Beatrice stops screaming, falling forward and whimpering. "Please.. someone.... I need... get Nianki?" Her glasses fall from her face, revealing the expected black eye. She starts to tug at her locked collar again. "It hurts still, just not as much."

“Nianki? Who …” Nathi starts, then mutters a curse as she gets to her feet. “You,” she says, casting a scathing glare at both Pedro and Draconis, “I will deal with later.” She leans over and wipes any traces of blood from her hands on Sebben’s body, then stalks off in the direction of the hall with an angry and determined stride, trusting the men will have enough sense, since they created such a mess, to clean it up.

Along the way, her eyes search out Edward, hoping to offer him a reassuring smile simply for his benefit, as she is still furious with her ‘play’ being interrupted. Once she reaches her destination, she makes quick inquiries, trying to quickly, quietly locate Nianki.

Edward nods a little, watching her with worry in his eyes. He takes one step after her. "Nathi..."

A servant shrugs to Nathicana, gesturing to where Nianki stands talking with a couple trolls. The sidhe Grand Duchess looks over when she notices she's being pointed out. She glides towards Nathicana with a worried look. "Is something wrong, dear? Why aren't you with your master?"

Beatrice just grits her teeth. Not paying much heed to Pedro or Draconis at the moment, she looks to Victoria with wide, pleading eyes. She takes her chain in her hand, dangling it and staring blankly at the links.

Pedro watches in dismay as Nathicana dispatches Sebben, but does not move to stop her. The man deserved it, that much Pedro knew without even knowing him. Even so, the cold, calculated slaughter disturbs him on a primal level. He feels bile rise in his throat but contains it with some effort.

Victoria steps over to the Grand Duchess and examines the collar more closely. "Are you all right?"

Pedro's brow furrows at the Imperatrice's remark. He pockets his pistol and turns to Draconis. "You said you'd explain, sir. I guess now's the time to do it." He motions to his guards to stand down. As the two soldiers holster their weapons, the Secret Servicemen put theirs away also and begin to fan out again.

Beatrice shakes her head. "No, no, I'm not alright." Around the edges of the collar, Victoria can see the skin beneath it is very badly burnt. "It's taking every ounce of strength I have not to keep screaming. The pain is beyond anything. And what it looks like under that collar, that's what he was doing...everywhere else I was reaching. Please...do...I don't know. I was weak to marry him. I know the only alternative was death but I should have preferred even death to giving that monster my hand. Please, please forgive me. I'll do everything I can to redeem myself. I just wish...just wish I'd had a chance to tell Corrina. She'll never understand what I did or why or what I plan to do now."

Nathicana pauses, turning to Edward, one brow arched up, then reaching out to take his hand. “What is it, boy?”

Nianki’s arrival brings her thoughts back to the more pressing issue, and she speaks low and quiet. “Her Grace, Beatrice, has asked to see you. She is in need. I can show you – just down this hall, and …” she says, glancing in the direction she’d come from.

Edward takes her hand, squeezing softly. "I just don't like seeing such a beautiful woman upset."

Nianki nods a little, moving down the hall towards Beatrice's room. Moving in, she kneels next to Beatrice, gently hugging her sister. She looks up to Victoria. "What happened here?"

Beatrice whimpers softly, resting her head on Nianki's shoulder and starting to sob softly. Nianki just strokes her hair. "It's over now, Bea. It's all over."

Victoria's inner pain for Beatrice seizes in her throat and she fights to keep her words even. "She is your sister, she will forgive you. She must have known you wouldn't marry that... thing... out of choice. Is the collar still burning you?" She sends two guards to get something to cut the lock off the collar.

She smiles warmly at Edward, drawing him in for a surprisingly gentle embrace. “It’s done. And if I am upset, it is only on account of … meddling damned men who feel they need always come to the rescue of the ‘fair damsel’ whether she wants or needs it or not,” she says, having to reign in her temper again as she speaks. “I should go back and knock those bastards flat for interfering in my fun,” she mutters, shooting a glare in the direction of where Pedro and Draconis are, then slowly looks back at Edward.

“Unless of course, you have something … better we could do with our remaining time? I think Beatrice is in better hands than mine, now ... and better, with family. Other than stir up trouble with others who won't remember later anyway, and vent my frustration on them, I'm not sure what else I could do.”

Victoria turns to Nianki, and gestures at the remains of Sebben. "He was going to rape Imperatrice Nathicana," she replies, kneeling down next to Beatrice and Nianki. "He chained Beatrice to the door. Pedro and I came to stop him, but when we got into the room, Nathicana had attacked him. He tried to escape but Beatrice pinned him to the bed... with the sheets..." for a moment Victoria trails off as the reality of what she'd seen sets in. She shakes it off a moment later. "He must have done something to this collar to make it burn her, though. She started screaming, then Nathicana killed him."

At that moment, a Secret Serviceman comes to the door and calls to Pedro. "The Shadow Queen's sealed off the building, sir. I can't get out to the Embassy."

Pedro looks at him and considers the information a moment, then his gaze falls upon Beatrice, and he sees her burns. Concern floods into his expression.

Someone in the ballroom directs the guards to the kitchen, where equipment is stored.

Nianki sighs, looking up at Victoria. "I doubt it's the collar that causes the most pain. I think my sister is comfortable with you being here for this but are you? It will hardly be modest." She starts to very gently remove Beatrice's costume. "It'll be alright, sister. We're going to stop the pain." Almost every inch of skin revealed is bruised. Some places are cut, whipped, or badly burnt.

Edward holds Nathicana gently. "Quite. You need to get back into your role though. I forgave you assuming a proud position a moment ago because you were upset but...rules are rules." He kisses her lightly. "I think I might want to come work for you after all, if you offer again in the morning." Edward proffers an arm, escorting the lady out of the ballroom and towards one of the bedrooms.

Nianki nods a little. "Thank you, Victoria. I owe you a boon. Just claim it before morning or I'll forget."

Meanwhile, Amaranth feels her blindfold untied and pulled from her face. When she looks around, she is in a room with a tall blonde woman with swan's wings and glowing eyes. "Hello, my dear. I am sorry to take your companion from you but she is needed for something."

ooc: A 3 day trip turned into a week-long trip and I didn't have access to a computer. Sorry for disappearing.

Amaranth blinks, trying to clear away the apparition. "What are you?" she whispers upon realizing that the woman is real. She shakes her head and stares at the woman. "There is no need to apologize to me. The lady should be with her family right now. Any apologies should be made to her. And them."

The winged woman smirks a little at the question. "Surprised? Am I truly odder than the other beings you've seen tonight, Amaranth? My name is Tatyana. Yours is Amaranth and the young princess is somewhat taken with you. That is why I apologized. Still, she has higher duties. There is more to happen this evening. It shall prove a fateful Samhain, more fateful than any I have seen. Yes, I do remember Samhain. As to what I am...that is not yet for you to know, my dear."

Tatyana smiles ever so faintly, offering Amaranth a hand up. "Would you like to be returned to the ball now? I am sure there are many who would still wish to dance with you. Also, I wouldn't want you to miss the big revelation, though you won't remember it."

((I'm moving this to the current part of the thread, to avoid time getting so confused. For the record, the dead never did move through the room where Amaranth was, for whatever reason.))

“Of course, mi’lord,” Nathi says lowering her eyes, a smile playing about her lips after the kiss. She allows herself to be willingly lead, slipping her arm around his as they leave the room. “There has got to be some way to remember that much at least,” she murmurs quietly as they walk.

She hoped that Beatrice would indeed be alright, knowing that in her sister's hands, and those of the kind people she had met, that she would be well-cared for at the very least. Such situations made her uncomfortable at best, feeling like the proverbial fifth wheel. I'm better suited to destruction than healing in any case ... most times, she can't help but think, nestling in a bit closer to Edward.

"I would like to help, but I'm afraid I don't know much about healing people, other than the first aid I was taught in the Army," Victoria replies. "However, I can at least get my husband out of the room," she adds, smiling kindly at Beatrice. She turns to Pedro, who overheard her and nods.

"We'll leave," Pedro says respectfully, taking Draconis outside with him and motioning his Secret Servicemen to vacate the area.

Victoria bows her head in gratitude to Nianki. "Thank you, you are most kind. Though I feel we didn't do nearly as much as we should have."

Edward shrugs lightly. "There might be some way somewhere, my pet. There are rumors of beings and magics that can part the Mists of Samhain. Still, I know nothing of them. Perhaps I shall prove worthy to inspire the offer anew in the morning."

He opens the door for her and allows her to proceed him in. Once inside, he closes the door behind them, takes her in his arms, and begins to kiss her with fierce passion. Gently stripping, he moves her to the bed.

((Fade to black here?))

Nianki nods a little. "Have your men slide the cutting instruments under the door when they find them."

And so it was over as quickly as it had started. Sebben lay dead, his blood flowing out at Draconis's feet. Stepping carefully over the corpse, the elf nods apologetically to Nathicana, as though to say "I had no choice but to interrupt". Looking at the secret service officers around him, he becomes aware of the wicked blade still protruding from the sleeve of his coat. A flick of the wrist and a click of gears sends the knife back out of view.

Turning to Pedro, Draconis speaks in a cold, emotionless tone,

"I did indeed promise an explanation. First though, an apology is in order. I am sorry you had to see that... killing. You happened to discover the final stages of a little plot between Nathicana, Edward, and myself. We decided to relieve Duchess Beatrice of a foul and most certainly unwanted husband, if you can call that barbarian a husband."

As Beatrice is tended to, Draconis caught a glimpse of the burns caused by her collar, shaking his head in disgust.

"I assure you, Sebben didn’t deserve to live, and a slit throat was merciful compared to the fate he would have suffered if I had half a chance. Something along the lines of flaying the flesh from his bones would be in order. But there I go again, ranting on about nothing. Once again, I am sorry you were drawn into this."

((Actually, hun, Beatrice wasn't taken to a different room. All of this is happening in the room where you are.))

Thanks for the info, edited accordingly

The hours pass. The guests engage in dance after dance. As the pre-dawn begins to come peek through the windows, over half of the guests have found their way to the bedrooms. The Shadow Queen smiles, rising. “Now, for just a moment before the dawn, perhaps we can all understand what happened here for a mere minute of reflection.” Smiling, she tosses her mask away. She isn’t anyone immediately recognizable.

((OOC: Last post tonight. This is an awesome thread.))
((OOC again: Yay! My 100th post!))

Pedro eyes Draconis with a tinge of disappointment. "This was planned, then," he muses in a low voice. He lets out a long sigh and looks down at the floor a moment, then looks back up at Draconis as if he's about to say something. Just then, the two soldiers enter the hallway, one of them carrying a small-toothed saw.

"Sir, this was all we could find," he says to Pedro.

"That should work," Pedro replies, glancing at it. "Slide it under the door."

As the soldier does so, Pedro turns back to Draconis. "Your apology is accepted." A moment passes. "At least I won't remember any of this in the morning," he adds with a hint of relief. "I agree that man wasn't worth the life given him, but the fact that this all occurred tonight, on a celebration..." He trails off, unsure as to how to put his feelings adequately into words. After a moment's hesitation he tries to shrug it off with humor. "I just ask that if there are any more demons to be executed tonight, that I be let in on it."

Victoria, meanwhile, sees the saw slide into the room under the door and picks it up, beginning to saw the padlock off the collar.

Nianki takes the saw from Victoria, sawing off the collar. Finishing with the removal of her sister's costume. Whatever connotations nudity might carry in other rooms tonight, it is impossible for any but the most sadistic to look on Beatrice's bare form with anything other than horror, medical concern, and rage at the beast who did this to her. Every single inch of her flesh is covered in bruises, burns, and other marks of torture and abuse. Leather straps are seen on her chest and between her legs which have the same effect as the collar around her neck. Nianki whimpers faintly upon seeing this, looking as though she's struggling to suppress the urge to vomit. Getting over her disgust enough to work for her sister, Nianki begins to saw on the other straps as she had on the collar. "That man didn't deserve such a quick death, not by a longshot."

Amaranth shrugs, "I have not exactly seen much here. And from what admittedly very little I have seen of beings with the power to lift geasa elsewhere... well, an apology of any sort from one such is far more surprising than your appearance. Then again, perhaps that was a matter of circumstance" she grins wryly.

She reaches for Tatyana's hand, "My Lady, I have a feeling that you already know that I would not pass on missing revalations, especially the sort revealed on such a fateful night, whether I shall remember them or not."

Tatyana squeezes Amaranth's hand lightly. The woman suddenly finds herself surrounded by light. When it clears, she is again in the ballroom, arriving just as the Shadow Queen removes her mask.

The other attendees at the party see a bright, glimmering light appear in the ballroom, roughly human height and width. The light slowly resolves itself into the figure of Amaranth.

The other guests begin to task their masks aside. Vicotira grins, looking at all the strange people turn into the people she's used to seeing.

OOC: This is in response to the Latin Union, still only a few minutes after Sebben was killed. God, I love this thread, shame to see it coming to an end.
_________________________________________________________________

Not wanting to offend, Draconis follows Pedro out of the room as Nianki undresses Beatrice. Disturbingly enough, he shows no remorse for the murder he had so recently been part of.

"Yes, Sebben's demise was well planned. However, if anyone else is killed tonight, it is not my plan. For now though, I must take my leave. I imagine I have some explaining to do as far as Aiwyn is concerned."

"Magics and such are not things I'm familiar with either, mi'lord, though I can't help but think I shall have ample inspiration," Nathi murmurs between kisses. "Right now, I've more ... immediate wants and needs, magic aside."

Aside from quiet expressions and words of pleasure and encouragement, she says nothing more for a good long while.

(yup - definitely a good point to fade I think. *grins*)

The Shadow Queen smiles lightly. “My name is Countess Varvara ni Ailil.”

The hours pass. The guests engage in dance after dance. As the pre-dawn begins to come peek through the windows, over half of the guests have found their way to the bedrooms. The Shadow Queen smiles, rising. “Now, for just a moment before the dawn, perhaps we can all understand what happened here for a mere minute of reflection.” Smiling, she tosses her mask away. She isn’t anyone immediately recognizable.

Draconis watches as the Shadow Queen addresses the party guests. In the preceding hours, he had found his way around the room, dancing with those he needed in order to fulfil his geasa. Now, he glides up beside Aiwyn, whispering in her ear.

"Hello, love. I don't know how this night has been for you, but as for myself, work's been murder, literally. I shan’t have time to tell you, and I suppose we'd forget it in a few minutes anyway."

Draconis looks at the Shadow Queen for a moment, considering the name she gave. He adds in a tone equally quiet to the first.

"I'm rather embarrassed, but I have no idea who this Countess Varvara ni Ailil is."

Aiwyn shrugs a little. "Neither do I. There's quite a few countesses in the empire." She smiles teasingly and kisses him. "You did steal my assigned friend for the night though."

Aiwyn takes off her own mask. "I'm Princess Aiwyn ni Gwydion." She turns back to Draconis almost immediately. It wasn't as if anyone had doubted.

Corrina moves to the front of the window, everyone else in the room revealed. She smirks faintly and removes her necklace. Suddenly, Corrina is no longer there but a satyress. She smirks viciously. "My name is Leila. Looks like I had the most convincing costume of the night." She laughs, tossing the necklace aside. At that moment, the sun rises and all is forgotten.

Victoria spends some of the next few hours helping Nianki with Beatrice, doing her best to remain unaffected by the horrific wounds. Pedro, after Draconis parts with him, stands idly in the hallway for a while, finally remembering the pistol in his pocket. He finds the Secret Serviceman who'd given it to him and returns it. After that, he finds his way to the banquet table - now almost totally empty - and sits, subsiding into thoughtful silence.

When Victoria emerges from the bedroom finally, he gets up and goes to her. She looks plaintively up at him, her eyes watering. Disregarding the grime on her hands from her recent work, he embraces her, feeling exhaustion come to him all in a rush.

As the Shadow Queen makes her announcement, he feels sheepish that he didn't bring a mask to cast off at this hour. First lesson of the evening: read everything through, he thinks wryly. Looking around the room as the others cast their masks off, he becomes aware of his shoulder being chafed by the dress. He looks down at himself, smiling slightly. Second lesson: loosen up!

Victoria pulls back from him slightly and looks into his eyes. Pedro gazes back. For a moment the dawn itself is forgotten as the third lesson appears in his mind. Life is beautiful.

The sunlight gleams into the room. Pedro feels the back of his neck grow warm with the sensation, and suddenly, the night is gone forever.

Nathicana yawns and stretches where she's been comfortably curled up ... then looks over and notices a complete stranger curled up rather comfortably with her. It takes her a moment to remember that she had been here for a party - one she knew they had said she wouldn't remember, but actually experiencing the effect - and so vividly - was another matter entirely.

She felt good, that much was clear enough, though her right side ached something fierce, and felt stiff and sore for some unfathomable reason. Looking over her companion with a thoughtful smile, she nestles back in, resting her head on his chest, one arm draped over gently.

"Well boy ... I may not know much, but I do know this: despite what some may think, I've never been one to share by bed with just anyone, so ... though I have absolutely no idea who you are, I think I can comfortably content myself with this arrangement. As cliche as it sounds, last night is a blank. My apologies."

Edward smiles a little. "That's alright. You get used to Samhain after awhile. However, would it be terribly impertinent of me to ask you your name?"

ooc: I'll be darned - last post went through on Trez's account. My bad - using his computer while he's working on mine. *sheepish grin* Aaaaanyways ...

"In my experience, a good memory and attention to details can be a matter of life and death," she murmurs quietly, then smiles as she turns her head to look at him.

"My name? Nathicana D'Aquisto. If that doesn't ring a bell, I could elaborate a bit. I've long gone by the title 'Dread Lady' in my rule of the Dominion, and recently took the title 'Imperatrice', in the interest of politics and necessity. Now," she says inquisitively. "Would you favor me with your name as well, and perhaps a bit about yourself?"

Edward rolls out of bed, falling to his knees, still nude. "Edward Newton, Your Imperial Majesty."

Nathi sighs softly, then shakes her head and chuckles. "Edward, my dear ... there is only one reason I would like to see you on your knees - and this isn't it. Please. Come back to bed, forget the titles, and talk with me. Whatever happened last night, we obviously had gotten past all that nonsense, surely, so there's no reason to repeat it now."

Edward climbs back into the bed. "Very well, Your...Nathicana. Last night, however, such things would not have mattered. Now they do again. Still, I must say that you are a ravishingly beautiful woman."

"Oh please ... they only matter if we decide they do," she says with a little snort. "And right now, I say they don't matter in the least."

Her smile becomes mischievous as she looks him over again. "I think I can see another reason I'm where I am this morning. Not only are you a delicious piece of work, but you've a silver tongue as well. So, Edward ... tell me about yourself, if you will."

She stretches out against him, then gently nestles in again, fingertips tickling along his ribs.

Edward puts his arms around her, holding her snugly against him. "There's not much to tell really. I'm the oldest of four. I serve as one of Her Imperial Majesty's stablemasters."

The woman smiles and nods. "That would explain the gentle hands," she says thoughtfully. "I've a small personal stable at my villa, though I haven't any stablemasters to care for my pretties. The staff helps me when I'm unable, due to schedules - more often than I'd like."

"I ah ... don't suppose you've any idea what time it is, or if there is anything that needs attending to, because if not ..." her stomach rumbles and she mutters. "Perhaps we could see about some, well ... room service and then maybe enjoy the morning with something we don't have to forget," she says, smiling up at him with a hopeful expression.

Edward smiles back, kissing Nathicana lightly. "Very well. However, you'll need to order it. Stablehands do not get served in their rooms."

"Anything in particular you ... want?" Nathicana says, kissing him softly in return, her tone making clear the double meaning there. "I'm sure we could make any number of accommodations ..."

Edward looks off, reflective. "Let me think. I would like some eggs, toast, a glass of fresh milk, and a drop-dead gorgeous emperess naked in my bed."

Nathi grins, kisses him again, albeit with a bit more fire, then slowly slides from the bed, taking one of the blankets with her to drape around herself temporarily. She opens the door and looks out into the hallway, waiting a moment til she spots one of the staff, flagging them down. Speaking quietly, she makes her request - phrasing it as such after she's let them know who she is. She asks for not only what Edward wants, but for herself, a large juice, some sort of meat, depending on what they have available, a small loaf of wheat bread, and a bowl of fruit.

With a nod and quiet thanks, she slips back inside the room, drawing herself up to her full unimpressive height, and walks over to the bed. She lets the blanket slip from her as she approaches, tossing it back onto the bed before sliding back in next to him and wrapping her arms around him again.

"I guess we'll have to see on that first part, but for the latter ... will you settle for a simple woman who just happens to be an empress?" she asks teasingly.

The servants bow and run off to find breakfast for Nathicana.

Edward smiles a little and pulls her towards him. He wraps his arms around her, smiling lightly. "I wouldn't mind such a woman but...I don't see why I need to bother with her when I have the most beautiful lady in the world already lying in bed with me." Smirking, he kisses her.

The servants then knock lightly, returning with breakfast after about ten minutes.

Pedro opens his eyes and feels warmth. He sees a black cloth drawn before his face like a curtain and feels the familiar sensation of Victoria's body against his.

Stepping back, Pedro finds himself in a wide ballroom, filled with people beginning to mill about in confusion, some of them still holding masks of some kind in their hands. What on Earth...

Then he remembers the invitation to Samhain in the Resurgent Dream. But he hadn't read the whole paper. He begins to fumble for it.

Then he looks at his wife and notices she's dressed as a nun.

"Victoria...? What are you...?"

At that moment, Victoria begins to giggle at him, and he feels the chafe of tight fabric on his shoulder. Casting a confused look down at himself, he finds to his shock that he's wearing his wife's party dress... with his own pants underneath. Unable to figure out the reason or rhyme behind this predicament, he simply looks at his wife with a wide smile and chuckles, "One hell of a party."

"Seems like it was," Victoria replies, stifling her giggles with a hand. At that moment she smells something odd on her hands and draws it from her face quickly. Her hand - both hands - bear a light coating of dried blood and some strong-smelling chemicals. She looks up at Pedro, alarmed. Then, suddenly feeling a weight in her odd costume, she fumbles at it and withdraws a subcompact pistol from it. Even more alarmed now, she looks at her husband intensely.

Pedro's eyes widen at the sight of the weapon in his wife's bloody hands. "Has it been fired?"

Victoria quickly clicks out the clip and checks the firing chamber. "No. It's clean," she breathes.

"Gracias a Dios," Pedro sighs in relief. "Put it away." The last thing Pedro needed to learn about his wife was that she killed someone on a night he couldn't remember. He looks around the room, trying to remember the faces, the names, of the people there. Why was his memory gone? He fumbled for the invitation in his pocket again, and read it over quickly.

Ah.

Fin?