+ Where Do Your Loyalties Lie? +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: Everyone
Where: The party
When: 7/21-7/23
Rating: PG-13 (warn if you go higher)
Summary:
The Story:
Orlais' current ruler, Lacie, has invited anyone of name, fame, and influence to The Winter Palace for three days of extravagant festivities surrounding the peace talks between her and Tillie, whose grasp for the throne has plunged beautiful Orlais into a dreadful civil war. Unbeknownst to both a third player, Elsie, has worked tirelessly behind the scenes to obtain her own share of power over the land.

Get ready for three days of fancy food, fine drink, good music, good entertainment, and just a little bit of murder, maybe? Your character has secured an invitation, and will join the illustrious crowd, become privy to the latest scandals and gossip, and observe as the struggle for Orlais' throne reaches its final chapter.

[OOC: This is an open mingle log for the Dragon Age event. The plotting post can be found here and event details can be found on the Bulletin Board.]

Comments

peggy carter » "margaret" » ota

[mucked]

[ margaret, the daughter of a family that's always been staunch supporters of lacie's rule, appears to be in her element over these three days. she is bright-eyed and dressed for the occasion and wearing a mask that marks her out as her mother's daughter to other orlesian nobles. even so, she's quick to give strangers of all types a smile as she flits by them in the rooms and halls of the winter palace. on the surface she is a friendly and flirtatious creature -- quick to engage in conversation and quicker still to speak praises for orlais's current head of state.

for most of the occasion, she stays stuck into the main festivities. she goes from person to person in the main hall, toasting drinks and teasing dances. margaret has got nothing but good things to say about the food on offer and, when passing someone she's never met before, it wouldn't be unusual for her to stop dead in her tracks and proclaim oh, how pretty your dress is! or don't you look handsome in your uniform -- inquisition, are you? or some other nicety. compliments and (perhaps overbearing) touches on the arm abound.

however! even a social butterfly needs to take a rest. especially when all that socializing is, at heart, a performance. she steals away to the library where she paces between stacks -- using the relative silence and solitude to sort through her schemes. but if she comes upon someone by surprise (or if they catch her by surprise), her smile returns in full force. with a thoughtless flourish, she gestures at the stacks themselves. did you know these are the best surviving examples of gustav of val fontaine's cabinetry work? she comes out swinging -- hoping to deflect any questions as to why or how long she's been in the library.

but now and again, and without much fanfare, she can also be found by the verchiel fountain. she is seated on the stone lip, her mask removed and abandoned on the fountain beside her. the monument is meant to celebrate a victory, yes, but she can't look on the brothers commemorated there without feeling a personal ache. margaret sits there, lost in thought, for a good chunk of time. the fountain is just far enough away from the main festivities that she can enjoy the music without feeling as though it might, like a tidal wave, pull her under. ]

( ooc: you can find peggy's plotting comment right here. feel free to drop me a line if you'd like to arrange a wildcard/alternative to the above options. )

Main festivities

[bibliocorn]

[This has already been a really weird time for Sunburst, and Peggy showing up all smiles and charm is quite possibly taking second place in his list of weird things happening this event. His brow furrows as he stares down at the hand on his arm, then back to her.

Gosh, he hates it when this place plays with his friends memories. ]

Um...thank you? It's...not what I'd normally wear. Are you enjoying yourself, Peggy?

[Because why would she have any other name than 'Peggy'? ]

freya mikaelson | ota

[deathlessness]

[Lady Freya Mikaelson loves the Game more than she likes to drink, and does she like to drink quite a bit. While the Mikaelsons have a reputation of being kind and congenial to your face, that doesn't change the fact that they can turn on you in an instant if what you say isn't what they want to hear, and Freya is no exception to that either. You even make so much as a implication that you might harm her brother, and you might find yourself marked for a very dangerous cocktail in your future.

That being said, this is a party after all, and no one has pissed her off yet, so she is doing her best to enjoy herself. She's dressed in sleek, beautiful formal wear, with a lovely golden mask that curls around her features, obscuring the top half of her face from view. Often times she can be found with a drink one hand, and the other extending to whoever is closest with a sly smile in place.]

Do you think I might be able to trouble you for a dance?

[She is more than comfortable with being forward enough to ask for it, and her preferences seem to be open to all genders and races. She's not here to cause trouble - she's just looking to have a good time.]

[saunteredvaguelydownwards]

[Never giving away what side your loyalties lie on is a sure-fire way to get yourself on the metaphorical shitlist of many people, and Lord Anthony Crowley has never shown any inkling that he fears what might happen to him as a result of both this, and the rampant rumours about him being an apostate.

But still, one does not go out of one's way to aggravate the Mikaelsons. Even he would be able to tell you that.

He looks entirely delighted with the proposition, the black and white mask he wears not hiding the pleasure in his expression as he takes her hand with an equally sly smile curving his lips.]

It would be no trouble at all. Shall we, my lady?

Jemma Simmons / OTA

[bravejemma]

[Jemma comes from an Orlesian family of no major importance, though they are prominent in academic circles and institutions. A few of their progeny were taken to be mages at a young age. Although Jemma is not one of these, she is interested in it and any conversation on the subject will be welcome.

Not a naturally talented liar, she has nonetheless learned to play the Grand Game in her own fashion. The nice thing is that when the only rule is to not get caught, one can play any way that one wishes. She has a personal distaste for the dishonesty in it, and were it to fade away, she wouldn't be upset at all. This somewhat lends her sympathy to Tillie, but she doesn't care for the militarism tied to it. She hopes some peaceful agreement can be reached -- because no matter who is in charge, the business of academia becomes more difficult during war.

She appears in the main ballroom, dressed to the nines and masked to match her family crest, all propriety and social pleasantness. She'll take periodic detours away from the ballroom over the course of the night, to side corridors and a library where magnificent shelves hold tomes and volumes of history, philosophy, magical theory, and anything and everything else she could ever want to learn about. Or she'll slip out to the gardens and the fountain, where she can take a moment to let the fresh air hit her face -- the one bother about the masks is that one can get so sweaty underneath them.]


[ooc: Late plotting comment or your can hmu on plurk @ lizimajig.]

library

[naughty_nurse]

[Mikan doesn't realize anyone's come in just yet. She's silently reading in a corner, eyes fixed. She's under the Lacie employ, but with her supreme nursing capabilities, she's taken care of anyone from any house.]

Hmmm...

[forwearemany]

(The "golem" known as Legion is an unknown newcomer, surrounded by mysteries and rumor.

Most of them are probably not true, of course. Like the one about how they turned on their owner and snapped their neck with their bare hands. Or that they're actually responsible for some high profile assassinations, the exact ones changing each time the rumor is told.

Those... can't be true, right? They certainly look menacing enough for them to be, all sleek an polished and black and glowing, with a massive hole in their chest, empty save for something glowing deep inside.

Are they even really a golem? There might be a few rumors speculating about that too.

Perhaps you'd like to try and find out?)

[mettatonvevo]

[Mettaton is well-known throughout the nobility for his curiosity and penchant for getting into trouble, so it's to the surprise of no one when the man slides up towards the golem as they observe the party. He looks over them with interest, barely masked, as he lets his attention on the party fade a bit.]

Do you have a name, Golem? Who do you belong to?

Nageki Fujishiro | OTA

[mourning_ghost]

[While Nageki comes from a noble family, they have hardly been important lately. After his parents died, his remaining relatives let some Ferelden servants handle caring for him. He has little taste for the Game (and can be a little too blunt with his opinions to be good at it anyway). The only reason he is here now is because his relatives insisted upon his presence. They support Lacie and so Nageki does as well. He does appreciate her attitude towards academics, but who he personally supports doesn't really matter.]

[He spends just enough time in the main area to eat enough food before he wanders off to find the nearest library. No one will miss his presence and he'll consider his evening well spent if he can spend the entire time reading books.]

[After grabbing five or six books that look as though they might be interesting he searches for a quiet corner of the room to sit in. A place where no one will just stumble across him. He slips his mask off his face and settles in.]

[naughty_nurse]

[Quiet footsteps echo in the corner. Mikan, a skilled nurse under the Lacie hand, gathers some books before realizing she's not alone.]

Huh...?

tim wright | ota | i'll match your formatting

[postictal]

[In this universe, Timothy Wright, you still know better than anyone how to cultivate a lie.]

[He's not nobility. He doesn't have a list of names a mile long. He doesn't have any noteworthy lineage. He's not important. He's not anyone you know by name, nor should he be. He's where those with actual stature need him to be: dumb, obedient, and not overly predisposed to argue. He knows his place, doesn't he? A spotty past with the chantry isn't enough to prevent him from falling through the cracks.]

[It's not clear which party he's working for, whether on the books or off them; but to that end, does it really matter? He does what he's told, and those demons that once plagued him have left him silent and dull, and perfect to be ordered around without consequence. Just a servant to nobility, and one that people can be plenty loose-lipped around.]

[Still, if you want information, he's one of the best ways to get it - provided you can pay for it. He hears things, mostly: things about Lacie, things about Tillie, things about a third party that's managed to slip in through backdoors like him. He does the dirty work, it's fine. Sorts through the silt and grit to get to the nuggets of actual, quantifiable information beneath.]

[And if you can incentivize, he'll even be willing to pass some of it along.]

[shslliar]

[They're on the same level. Not that Kokichi's notoriety mattered when he slipped into the party unnoticed. He doesn't think anyone's noticed the extra servant sneaking about in between tasks, and he'll make sure nobody notices him catching up to Tim in private.

For a chat, of course. He has the bribe ready.]

So... What do I owe you for a moment of your time?

shepard | ota | i'll match your format!

[normandysbest]

[She arrives with more fanfare than she'd like.

Shepard knows that missing this event would be too much political blowout to warrant not making it. The leader of the guard is counting on her, she knows, to make a strong show with her challenge to the crown, and frankly the idea of never having to do this again is motivation enough to show. Her mask covers her face enough, but it's impossible not to know who she is with the shock of short cropped red hair and the all too obvious facewear. The Phoenix has arrived-- so keep the fires burning low.

She knows it's scandal enough that she doesn't show up in womenswear, but for her, that's plenty standard. Pants and boots snake upwards in gold patterns to a matching vest, overlayed by a large overcoat she seems unwilling to shed. Perhaps most importantly, her sword is still prominently displayed at her hip. A warning. Maybe not quite so much should someone decide to start something around here.

Mostly she can be found standing back from the ballroom with a drink in hand, or pacing through the corridors looking for anything interesting. But ultimately, she's horribly bored. So she'll be watching, waiting, and lean over to anyone who might be nearby with a little grin.]

Everything seems pretty calm, huh? Like we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

[ooc: plotting comment is here or feel free to hit me at cancerously for anything else!]

[mypartnerintime]

Maxine pauses, drink halfway to her lips, as Shepard makes her comment. The younger woman's eyes flash beneath her silver and amethyst mask as she looks over the speaker- taking in the bearing, short hair, and scandalous fashion choices.

Maxine fights a smile, keeping her face straight. She'd never dare make such a deliberate faux pas when it comes to dress. Nor would she ever compliment it outright- but she just has to admire the bravado.

She does so privately, in her own mind. Outwardly she's a model of unimpressed nobility. The drink finishes its trip to her mouth, and she takes a long sip to hide any real interest, before she finally decides to reply.

"I don't suppose you've brought that shoe?"

Sunburst | OTA

[bibliocorn]

[Perhaps your first sighting of Sunburst during this event will be right at the start, though you might not strictly realise it's him right away. Sitting on the floor in the palace gardens is a distinctly human member of the Inquisition. Still bespectacled, hair and beard frazzled, but completely human. He stares at his fingers in wide-eyed terror, waggling them like they're alien objects to him. His terror turns into full on hyperventilation as he runs one of those hands over his forehead and finds an important body part missing. ]

Oh noooo. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening.

[Or maybe you'll find him in the ballroom later on. He's still definitely unhappy, but at least he's found a chair at a table. He's trying to keep his head down, and avoid eye-contact with anyone at all. Sometimes, he stares intently at some foodstuff on the table, perhaps a little cake or a piece of fruit. Until he remembers he doesn't have telekinesis proper any more and exhales, annoyed. He reaches out with his arm to push it closer to him, before leaning down to eat it right off the table, you know, like a horse. ]

[And, of course, if there's a library, Sunburst will always find it. Always. Being around books at least makes this entire experience a little more bearable for him. He can be lying chest-down on the floor, a book on the ground in front of him. Turning the pages takes a little more effort, trying to nudge them along with a hand mostly held in a partial fist, but the contents make it worth it. ]

Wow! Is magic really seen as so bad here? [A pause. Oh right. He's supposed to be blending in. ] Uhhhh in Orlais? It's very different in... the place I'm from. Which is absolutely in this... Thedas.

[[OOC: plotting comment let me know if you want a wildcard!]]

[naughty_nurse]

[At the library, someone comes over to him, her shadow coming over his body.]

Excuse me... is there something wrong with your hand?

[It's Mikan!]

Asgore - OTA will match

[alphyswhatsabara]

Dressed in the colors of the Inquisition is a large, silver-skinned, bushy yellow bearded, horned man who must be, well, approaching eight feet in height (exclusive of the extra height his sweepingly tall horns give him). It is a striking look, even without the masks nearly everyone else seems to be wearing here. But then again, anyone nearly 8 feet tall and horned would look striking.

The first words out of his mouth -- if you are close enough to hear them -- is (lub dub lub dub lub dub lub dub) "I have blood." He spends several moments feeling his pulse at his wrist and at his neck, then pressing his hand to his chest, to feel the beat of his heart. He reaches for the sides of his head to feel for large, floppy ears which are no longer there. He seems very confused, but then again he's a Vashoth and he's in Orlais -- of course he'd be confused.

Later on, he'll be in the ballroom, eating snacks and hoping none of it is poisoned (Orlais! Come for the Masques; Stay because you died at a Masque!), trying awkwardly to blend in, which is utterly impossible when you're as tall as he is. Come on over and pester him because you think it's hilarious that he's even in this room.

He can also be found not in the ballroom because, while he is technically royalty and knows that until his death he was a king, he was a much more homey sort of royalty than the nobility of Orlais seem to be. Everyone seems to want to... find reasons to not like you and everyone begins by not liking him. He wanders through hallways, visiting the kitchens to tell everyone what a good job they're doing, visiting the stables to tell everyone what a good job they're doing, the library hide in an armchair with a good book...

library;

[keephersafe]

Uh...

[R has never seen one of the Qunari before. He's heard about them, he's seen drawings and illustrations, heard descriptions of how they look at the place they come from, but he has never seen one.

That plays a good deal into why this elf is standing at the far end of a row of bookcases, openly staring.

'There's another guest in the library, go and tell them they're not supposed to be there'. It had to be a joke, didn't it? He was supposed to go up to this--... this, and tell him to leave? Mythal protect him.]

Y-you're not s... supposed... t-to...

[Help.]

ota | any format

[angewiesen]

The nicest thing about being in the royal guard was the uniform. As Jean stood with his spear to the side of the festivities, everyone decked in regalia and artfully bemasked, he was glad he didn't have to fuss so. Sure, what he was wearing now was not his daily, simpler uniform, but he could still move in it, and see. And he didn't have to calculate the exact meanings of every bit of embroidered silk, the messages that everyone was silently sending to one another in every shape and symbol... And it was best for a spy to be unobtrusive, and also in plain sight.

(There was a small, vain side of himself that wished he could make a show of it, but such displays rarely lasted-- those who's intentions were clear were poor players in the Game.)

Hopefully, if fate allowed, this farce of a Game would end soon enough.

Being a double agent was a precarious balance. He had to his job. To protect Lacie and her position in court. To gain the trust of those around him... and simultaneously betray them with every confession gained, and every bit of connivery successfully eavesdropped upon. He had to have a good memory for when he was able to meet with one of Elsie's counter-operatives, because anything written down was twice as likely to be discovered. And he had to be as bland, dull, and forgettable as possible.

He was glad that he had risen high enough in the ranks to be allowed to attend the Masque, even in the capacity of work. Important information could be gleaned here, if he managed to be in the right place in the right time. Cracks in Lacie's armor, failings in Tillie's plays to put the current Queen in checkmate. Anything was helpful to Elsie's uprising, and her followers that tired of the Game as Jean had.

He had friends and allies here. Some he could recognize. And some, who were far higher in the ranks of the uprising than him, he couldn't. And others, well, maybe he could whisper the right thing in their ear to help them have a second thought. That maybe this should all end. That maybe, there was a brighter future waiting for them not so far away.

[thecourier]

"If you're not having a good time, you'd be best telling your face to show otherwise."

A quiet word murmured into the rim of a glass from a man in his early forties dressed in the clothing of a chevalier. It comes along with a quirked eyebrow and a slightly crooked smile, and he lowers his glass to waist-height as they share the same view.

Danyael doesn't wear a mask - a deliberate oversight, given that he has no interest in the moves of the Game - and it allows the amusement on his face to be clearly seen.

"Amazing, isn't it. We teeter on the edge of war, and they throw a party."

Maxine - OTA

[mypartnerintime]

Ballroom

Despite her dislike for events of this kind- the mingling, the clothes she has to wear, the way she has to act- Lady Maxine stands with practiced elegance at one side of the ballroom. On the wall next to her hangs a painting that was commissioned for this particular event: Lacie, standing with with regal poise and a captivating, subtly commanding aura, the beauty of her dress dimmed only by the beauty of her features. Her gaze at the viewer is inviting and open, but the slight tilt to her chin speaks of superiority.

Maxine nods at anyone who stops to look at her painting, a warm smile flashing briefly underneath her silver mask. The small amethysts set into the mask glint slightly as she tilts her head.

She doesn't bother talking, though. She knows what to do. Wear what she's asked to wear- today a vibrant purple dress, far more eye-catching than she'd wear of her own accord- and stand next to the painting. Let everyone see that you don't just paint for Lacie. You're actually there for her. To show and be shown.

Her practiced formality wavers the tiniest bit if anyone approaches to actually talk, eyebrows twitching in surprise. All the same, she receives them with a step forward and a shy smile.

"Enjoying the event so far?"


Gardens

The event has gone on late by the time Maxine decides that she can leave the painting unattended. The gardens offer fresher air and quieter surroundings, but most importantly darkness and solitude. She finds a relatively secluded fountain and sits on the edge. Once she feels that she's alone, she removes her mask carefully and stares into the water, watching her reflection ripple and blur amid the glinting caprice coins.

The earlier poise has mostly disappeared in these moments. Instead she appears closed and introspective, brown hair falling forward to obscure her made-up cheeks. The sounds of the party give way to her own thoughts, and she slips into unawareness, not noticing if anyone comes close.

gardens »

[mucked]

"You know, the music might actually be improved with a bit of distance."

A stranger sits beside Maxine. And that stranger, mask missing, arranges the skirts of her deep purple dress as she perches on the fountain's edge. The reality of her comment is tested in the immediate silence that follows. From where they sit, trills and notes from the ballroom's festivities can indeed reach them -- floating through open windows and ajar doors.

"It can get so very loud inside the palace."

Natasha Romanoff | MCU | OTA

[outstandingbalance]

[At an event like this, not everyone can be noble. The rich and powerful need people to play their songs and tell their tales while they indulge in their extravagant festivities, people to carry news from the road, people to add some variety to the mass of masked elite. At an event like this, they also often as not need someone else to get their hands dirty—to trade secrets for them, to steal for them, to commit murder for them, all while they put themselves on display at dances and feasts to make an alibi out of everyone in attendance.

A notorious bard, Natasha fulfills all of these needs and more.

Publicly, she can be found preforming wherever there are people gathered. Her voice has a raw, creaky edge to it, at odds with her otherwise polished performance. The songs themselves vary wildly, following the whims of the crowd. Between sets, she's always available for a few words and a drink.

And clandestinely, she makes her presence known in other ways—her calling card, the mark of a red hourglass, left to be found by the right noble, planting the right rumor about a particular assassin being in attendance, insinuated so subtly that by the end of the the conversation, the squire or laundry maid she'd been speaking to is convinced he'd brought but the widow's apparent visit themselves.

There's no connection drawn between the two, public and private kept carefully separate, but either way she makes herself available in her way.]

[startingpoint]

[ Technically - given his lineage in a prominent Orlesian family - Kurt would have relatively little to concern himself with this evening other than representing his family well amongst the many guests, and being sure nothing goes terribly awry.

Except no one in his family, in this sphere of his life, has any idea that he's working for Elsie, trying to ensure her successful claim to rule from within. It's all carefully done, his missions carried out with utmost secrecy.

But he has to be on guard at all times, especially tonight. He's distracted, though, by the woman singing for the crowd, and he follows her after only a moment of hesitation. ]

You were good up there. Do you take requests?

[ He smiles softly. ]

Danyael Palmer | OTA

[thecourier]

[Danyael (or simply 'Dan', to those a little more familiar with him) managed to get a drink in his hand from the moment he first stepped into the gardens of the palace and hasn't been seen without one since. Despite being a chevalier - and therefore bound to Tillie by default - he has no interest in the machinations of either person vying for the throne and is only here because it would create far too many problems for him if he didn't show his face.

He keeps to the edge of the main festivities, carefully but firmly turning down everyone who thinks to ask him for a dance, and has chosen to forego wearing a mask altogether. Orlesian he may be, and here by request, but he has no care for any damage to his reputation that showing his face might cause. It's terribly gauche, but he's never been reprimanded firmly enough about it to give that too much thought. Perhaps it has something to do with only being half Orlesian.

More often than not he finds his way out to one of the balconies, where the music filters out through half-open doors and lace curtains and the fresh air allows some respite from the near-cloying suffocation inside despite the grandness of the room. The Grand Game is so tiring, he feels weary just from being in the same room as it. He'll head out to the rear gardens often, too, giving the air that he is ignorant of the ball entirely and the fact it is occurring is only on the periphery of his concerns. It is a strange thing, when the place is so magnificent, to have someone turn their nose up at its splendour so easily.

Late on in the final night, he finds a caprice coin discarded on the floor, and flicks it into a fountain. Hopefully, it wasn't yours.]

[wriggedywrecked]

[He's heard of this guy. It's a ballsy move, not wearing a mask. Richard tried that once in his younger days, and the scandal eventually led to him being accused of practicing black magic. Guards were even sent to search his house and a whole lot of his potions and such were either confiscated or destroyed. Very annoying. It's not worth the trouble at this point.]

[Still, this might be the only guy here who's worth talking to who isn't with the Inquisition. Richard finds him as they're both seeking more booze. You have to be drunk to survive these stupid parties.]

Lord Danyael, right? Bold move, n-not wearing a mask.

Nathaniel Howe | OTA

[noble_son]

[At first, he hadn't been sure of where he was, or what the significance of the - in fact very stunning - red uniform he was wearing, but Nathaniel is nothing if not a quick study and had soon recognised the accents that surrounded him as being Orlesian. After that, it's only a matter of time before where he is becomes apparent, and... well.

He's actually a little excited about it.

Despite being well-travelled before and after joining the Grey Wardens, he had never got so far as visiting the Winter Palace. Why would he have? There had never been enough influence in his life to bring him here.

Nathaniel takes his time looking around on the first day of the festivities. He walks the gardens, does several circuits of the main hall and ballroom and even manages to get himself caught up in a waltz. It's the closest that anyone will have seen to Nathaniel enjoying himself in some time, and his familiarity with the location (to a point) and the culture of the place lends itself well to not sticking out like a sore thumb despite knowing very well that none of this is real.

When he's finally satisfied his curiosity, the second and third days find him mostly in the ballroom when festivities are ongoing, or in one of the various courtyards when there's a lull or a need to get away from the noise. Once or twice, he steals down to the library to look through some of the books there, finding himself distracted for at least a couple of hours.

In the early hours of the mornings he can be found on one of the balconies that face east, looking out to the horizon with a quiet longing. Home is that way, and it's only being so close and yet so far from it that makes him realise how much he truly misses it.

All the while, he's keeping a keen eye out for any trouble. This isn't the kind of place where one wants to land in hot water, whether they're aware of what's truly happening or not. Need any help? Your friendly neighbourhood Inquisition member is on hand.]

[morework]

[ Cullen joins him on the balcony come early morning. He understands Nathaniel's look, even before the first word between them falls. ]

We could steal some horses and try to make it.

Anthony J. Crowley | OTA

[saunteredvaguelydownwards]

[The mask that Anthony Crowley dons for this particular occasion appears fairly modest in comparison to the others that can be seen about the palace. It was, of course, chosen entirely deliberately. He enjoys watching people trying to read what little they can see of his expression, trying to figure out if they really did just see that little smile pass over his lips or if they're only imagining what they'd want to see.

He's sure that he's only here because one side or the other would like to win him over. Crowley is only a minor noble in the grand scheme of things, but the lands he holds are of tactical interest. It's certainly not because of that, that his allegiances have always remained difficult to pin down, but it does serve to make him a person of interest in the court despite his lower standing.

Crowley flits about the main festivities, looking every inch the demure and politely interested party guest, but he is always listening. The best places for it are the balconies, the odd stairway and, of course, the interior and exterior gardens where people can so easily be lulled into the false idea that they are not being overheard. There's nothing that stops the heart quite like hearing a soft murmur of 'hm, interesting' as you spill your latest tidbit of gossip into what you thought was a private ear.

There's also his odd tendency to end up in places that he shouldn't be. The servants quarters or the royal chambers, or the upper floors of the library as if he simply got lost and has no awareness that he's not supposed to be there... even if he had to get through two locked doors and over a balcony to get to where he is.

Rumours are abound that Anthony Crowley is an apostate mage, yet it's something no one has been able to solidly prove. There are scraps of evidence, all easily explained away by things that have no basis at all in magic, but the rumours persist. Crowley does nothing to confirm or deny them, in any respect.

Maybe he's a mage... maybe he's not.

He eats, drinks, and is very merry indeed, never shy to take up someone's offer of a dance or even to ask for the honour himself.]

[itchtokill]

[Kol does plenty of his own consorting during the course of the party, but he does a lot of watching as well. And this bloke? Well, he'd been dancing with Kol's sister earlier and that's enough to get him curious. Sure, it could be innocent. Just a party-goer seeking the fun of dancing with a beautiful woman. Fine. But there was much more underfoot at this particular party and he couldn't help being a bit suspicious.

He spots him somewhat isolated on a balcony and decides it may be the best time to make his presence known. Where the man may have been alone, or mostly so at least, suddenly someone is sliding up next to him, staring down at the crowd below.]

I hate to be spoilsport, but I must ask: What did you want with my sister? [He wouldn't reveal it outright, even if there was some secret to spill, and Kol isn't naive enough to believe it would ever be that simple. But the conversation had to start somewhere.]

R | OTA

[keephersafe]

[It's a slimmer, slighter, more pointed-eared version of R that flits awkwardly around the gathered nobles and lords, often carrying a tray of glasses or small, light nibbles for the guests to take from him.

Renaros, to most, simply 'R' owing to a childhood speech impediment and lack of ability to say his own name in less than fifteen syllables that still persists to this day, has been a servant for as long as he can remember. What he can remember tends to vary from day to day, with his memory of at least half of his life somewhat damaged from a fall in his teenage years. He gained his position in the palace through pity and the right word in the right ear, and has quietly worked ever since, making sure he doesn't get under anybody's feet while managing to be everywhere and entirely unnoticed at the same time.

It is that very thing that made him ideal for the ranks of Elsie's machinations, and he had not been difficult to persuade.

He keeps away from the centre of the ballroom, though is often lurking around the edges or out on the balcony, standing idly while nobles pick at whatever happens to be on the tray he's carrying. His breaks, such as they are, are taken in the servants quarters or the kitchen, the latter in which he does his best to make it look like he's doing something, while trying not to do anything.

But an agent of Elsie always has to have their ear to the ground, and while R may be regarded as a little slow, he isn't about to let down someone who thinks he can have some use other than simply being a servant. So, he listens, though his eavesdropping skills aren't stellar and rely mostly on simply being unnoticed thanks to a combination of being serving staff and an elf.

Towards the end of the last evening of the festivities, he does venture towards the centre of the ballroom, shyly watching from the upper level as people dance. It's an enchanting thing, after all.]

feel free to check me if I'm assuming too much!

[angewiesen]

[While he stood his post, Jean noticed R going about his job as a servant as the Masque unfolded. The two of them were more or less acquainted as part of Elsie's resistance, so he recognized his face. Most of the time they artfully avoided each other to keep from raising suspicions, but tonight it would be within reason for two of the serving class to speak to each other. They might have a chance to share important information.]

[When relieved of his shift for his own break, Jean wandered down to the kitchens to grab something to eat. He normal ate pretty well, as he made more than a modest sum with his work, but tonight's fare was definitely out of his pay range. He wanted to take advantage of this moment, to live like nobility would, if only for a second. Maybe once Elsie had risen up, the lower classes would be able to enjoy finery like this every once in awhile too.]

You've done the cooking, right? [He initiated small talk. Everyone that knew R for more than a few seconds was aware of his speech impediment, so it was fine if he did most of the talking.] Do you recommend anything?

Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy | OTA

[mandrakes]

[Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, an Orlesian lord who could so easily have risen higher in the ranks of noble reputation and the Grand Game if he didn't have certain eccentricities in semi-recent years involving several odd, unexplained fires and strange items being found in his home that briefly held him up as a potential magic-user. All charges were found false and dropped, but the mark against him remained, and his reputation had never recovered from it.

Yet, he still remains important enough to be invited to magnificent galas such as this, and his support of Lacie still holds enough weight to be taken notice of. Regis is an old player of the Game, but has lost no wit or guile with his age and is the kind of opponent that few people would want to have directly focus their attention on them.

But he is pleasant and affable, wearing an unusual gold and white mask that shows half of his face, and is certainly open to speak to anyone as the ball goes on. He's a very fine dancer, and isn't shy of the ballroom as he coaxes men and women alike to take to the floor with him. At the fountains he isn't shy about how many caprice coins he has to toss into the water, though he isn't stingy about offering them out, either.

If he isn't mingling, his steps have likely taken him to the library or the palace gardens, where he appears to prefer to keep to himself yet still offers a friendly smile and conversation to anyone who might join him.

Regis has an easy way of talking, a kind of false openness that teases out more pieces of information than he ever reveals about himself. People immune to his machinations and schemes are rare, though one can be found here in the form of his not-quite-niece Margaret.]

[itchtokill]

[Some reputations have a way of spreading further than anyone ever might have hoped-- or wanted. This particular Orlesian lord? He has to be one of the ones in that category. And Kol may be a bit of a fan. Hard not to be by one of the best players of the Game he's ever known of.

Not that a single ounce of that will shine through when he approaches him, casual and almost like he's speaking with an old friend.]

Quite the turnout, innit?

Mikan Tsumiki

[naughty_nurse]

[As a nurse under Lacie's employee, Mikan has sometimes been the deciding factor in these little wars - but she doesn't just help those who are under Lacie's rule. To her, it doesn't matter who you work for, she will heal you. As a result, many have tried to lure her to their side, if not get rid of her altogether. She sincerely hopes this ball is a chance to get away from all that... but she doubts it.

At the ballroom, she offers longing glances, but sticks to the wall, too shy to ask anyone herself.

During quiet moments, she retreats to the library for some peace and quiet to do her research.

In the kitchen, it is Mikan's duty to taste-test everything to check for poison. She's built up immunity over the years.

All the while, her dress seems to be a bit bulky, but that is because she's always carrying hidden medical supplies underneath. At least the mask is decently pretty. Has she saved your life before, the life of your friend or enemy? Or is this a new chance to win her over or get rid of her?]

[entreats]

[ As a member of a noble family in support of Lacie, Ange does know Mikan. Not personally - she's not enough of an active participant in the game to have gotten hurt that badly before - but she's probably had family members who have been helped by her before. It's inevitable with the way things always go.

And with Mikan looking all wallflowery in the ballroom, it's like she's just waiting there to be picked on by some Tillie follower. So fine, fine, Ange will be a good person for once and go over to her to make sure that doesn't happen. ]

You shouldn't stand around by yourself like that. You never know when someone here decides you're easy prey, you know.

sans (human) - ota

[punful]

[1: Open to Nobles: No one ever notices a servant, and that's always been fine by Sans. It's always better not to be noticed, because it means no one gets mad at him, and it means he can observe and collect information without anyone the wiser. And it pays to be observant, often literally. Sans might belong to Lacie's household, but he really doesn't have a horse in this race. When nobles go to war, it's the commoners who die--if Lacie wins, things continue as normal, but if she doesn't, there's a chance all her servants might be executed. Either way, he doesn't plan on sticking around in Orlais for very long after these ridiculous festivities. He's finally saved up enough from selling information to get the hell out of Dodge. This is a dangerous place for anyone--but doubly so for someone who's secretly a blood mage. It's not something he's proud of, but if he wants to survive he knows he has to get as far from the Chantry as he can.]

[In the meantime, he's skirting the edges of the party, mostly cleaning up after nobles or fetching things or opening doors. He's quiet and he keeps his head down and his servant's mask on, the picture of an obedient servant. He's keeping an ear out for juicy gossip and an eye out for the small handful of nobles who know him as an information source. Always good to have some powerful people who might owe you a favor someday.]

[2: Open to Servants/Commoners: He's more relaxed with fellow servants, a bit more talkative, even a bit of a jokester. There aren't many people he trusts, but pretty much all of them are of the common variety. He's casual with members of Lacie's household, but a bit more aloof with anyone who came here with some other nobles. He's not the only servant who figured out that nobles will talk freely around people like him, and it pays to be cautious when everyone is looking out for number one.

He knows better than to strike up a conversation while in view of any nobles, but he's often found in the kitchens, hallways, or assorted servant passageways. He might be letting the cooks know that they need more hors d'ouevers or booze out in the ballroom, or maybe he's getting rid of some trash or dirty mop water, or maybe he's just running an errand for some noble. Whatever the case, he's probably down for a conversation, even if it's just to shit-talk the aristocracy.]

Servants

[shslliar]

[Ooh, neat. Someone he can get info from.

He catches Sans in one of the servant passageways where nobody else could hear.]

Say, heard anything new about those nobles lately?

Stan Pi-- I MEAN, STANIMIR PINEWOOD | OTA

[charlastan]

[Stanley Pines has absolutely no business being at this party.

The truth is that he was actually run out of Orlais a couple of years ago for selling unsuspecting suckers equipment that was barely a step above garbage. Turns out the Shield of Shielding, finest shield in all of shielding history, falls apart after one strike from the most mediocre of swords. Then there was all of the really bad counterfeit art, the toy dog smuggling - if you name it he's probably done it. Point is, the people of Orlais are not his biggest fans.

On the other hand, there is absolutely no reason he should take advantage of a potential civil war to steal some guy's identity and go to a fancy three-day party, and maybe screw things up for some very specific nobles who know what they did. Or just trash the place on his way out, that could be fun. He also plans on so much stealing and pickpocketing, and as long as no one's looking it's perfectly legal, probably! He hasn't been paying a ton of attention to the rules of the Grand Game, but that's probably how it works, right?

So - eat a bunch of food, drink a bunch of alcohol, steal anything of value that isn't bolted to the floor, and maybe a little property damage. Sounds like a good time!

(Where's the real Stanimir? Don't worry about it! Surely he's fine and not tired up and gagged somewhere for three whole days! He's totally good, really.)

When the new Stanimir gets to the party, he does a pretty decent job hobnobbing. He's pretty sure that people thinking he has money is enough for him to act however he wants, so he doesn't spent much effort actually studying what Stanimir is like. Who knows, maybe he's wild at parties! You don't know him!

In the party can be found by the food eating and drinking like he's half-starved, mingling with actual nobility and seeing how many absolutely outrageous lies about Stanimir he can get away with, and occasionally pick-pocketing anyone in the general vicinity. Sometimes he breaks from the crowd to see if there are more interesting things to steal in other rooms or to listen in on information he could sell to Elsie later.

Do you like his mask? He made it himself!]

1/2

[krmvgivv]

[This event doesn't seem so bad all things considered. If the worst Dipper has to contend with is a weird outfit and fancy food, he'll consider himself lucky. He hasn't figured out yet why some people have fancy old-timey clothes and him and Mabel have a weird soldier uniform, but he's not too stressed about it.

First thing, of course, is to find Stan. Finally, Dipper sees an old man in a weird mask trying to stuff a ham in his jacket. And... well, it might hide some of his face but that weird orange nose is still all too clear.]

Grunkle Stan!

[He grabs Mabel's hand and tugs her with him.]

There you are. Weird event, huh? Think it's from one of the old pre-tech people?

garrett hawke | ota

[bloodmagics]

[This isn't an event, this is Hawke's worst nightmare come to life. It's bad enough he has to wear this uncomfortable outfit as part of it, but being in Orlais? Maker take him now, he's ready to join you at your side. It doesn't help that the Champion of Kirkwall and everything that happened in his city is both old news and suddenly hot gossip, given his appearance at the event. Especially as an apparent formal member of the Inquisition.

But this is all events from his future, technically, even if they are a twisted version created by Wonderland. It's... unsettling.

Which is why he spends the majority of the first day in a horrible mood, constantly grumbling about Orlais and every little thing that he comes across. In the private company of the rest of the Inquisition, at least. Around everybody else he's as polite as ever, if understandably wary about the Game and everything it entails.

And if he happens to duck into a dark corner to avoid nobles gossiping about the Champion of Kirkwall, that's his business.

The second day brings a Hawke that's actually doing the job the Inquisition was hired for. It's not great, but it gives something to do besides stuff his face -- though, he does a lot of that too. Trying to keep the peace for a bunch of nobles is pretty boring, but it gives him something to focus on that isn't constantly grumbling how Orlais is the actual worst and that Ferelden is so much better.

He can't exactly use his magic to keep the peace, but if you need a big, buff man to calm things down, he's your guy.

On the third day, he abandons all pretense of doing the security job to find somewhere to lay low until the event ends. Given that he's not allowed in a lot of rooms, this is trickier than it should be so there's a high possibility he'll be seen climbing something he shouldn't. Or ducking into a room he shouldn't.]

Day three

[shslliar]

[Sorry, were you trying to hide? Because you just ran into someone who looks like a servant. What he's doing in a room he's also not supposed to be in is a mystery, but he immediately pockets whatever he has in his hand the moment he hears someone coming...

Wait. The inquisition? Okay, he'll play cool and put on an act.]

Sir? I don't think you're supposed to be here.

Becks Atherton | OTA

[insincerecharm]

{Something ain't right here, why can't you see it | Early Event

There's something unnaturally jarring about the way Events like this happen. The whole mansion and grounds beyond it are so quickly, seamlessly changed out for something else entirely, and no one ever notices a thing. Becks isn't sure how it happens. She knows the general rug-swept answer is 'magic', but even after her months in this place, that's still sometimes a little beyond her scope to accept.

Still. It's amazing, the transformations that can take place at Wonderland's whims. And she can't help taking in the scene before her: People amassed in the ballroom, dancing, drinking, a few getting up to rather questionable practices. She seeks out familiar faces, but will be pleasant enough to anyone who decides to speak to her.

{If you can't beat 'em, party with 'em | Late Event



After a certain point, there's just no use in trying to do anything about the extra knowledge she has at the moment. No amount of trying to convince anyone that it wasn't real would do any good-- to them, this was their entire life. There were no other worlds, no Wonderland. There was only this life and anything beyond the scope of their altered memories was met with vitriol.

So, eventually? Becks gives in, or gives up, however one might wish to phrase it. She drinks, she chats, she dances. She wanders the palace and takes in all the pointless intricacies of the place. She makes her way out to the gardens for a breather. She can be found almost anywhere, likely with a drink in her hand.

[truehumanity]

[Starlight doesn't recognize the human she approaches, but honestly right now she's not sure if that's because she's never met her or because Starlight's just really bad at remembering human faces without her magic to help her cheat.

But the human's wearing the same outfit Starlight is, and that's enough to make her pretty sure she can at least talk about Wonderland with her, and maybe take a break from pretending she has any idea what she's doing as a human.

She plasters on a grin and forces her fingers open. She has hands not hooves. She has to remember that. She walks over to the human on her two legs and waves.]

Hello, fellow Inquisitor. Mind... taking a walk with me?

Georgia Mason | ota

[choosetruth]

[Lady Georgia Carolyn Mason may not be a noble by blood, but it's hardly like anyone can deny her claim when she and her brother are the sole heirs to the Mason family fortune. Even if Georgia is doing her best to distance herself from her adopted parents, arriving in an almost scandalously simple dress and a mask crafted from print paper, with dark glass to protect her sensitive eyes from the light. It doesn't do much to hide her identity, especially with her hair cropped as short as ever, but that's sort of the point.

Her parents are loyal to Lacie, but she's never made her own loyalties clear. Her opinion on the Game, on the other hand, is very well known, at least to anyone who's been reading her newspaper. Not only has she written several extremely sharp opinion pieces about how barbaric it is, she's also used the platform to catch and publicly out several would-be players.

She doubts she's especially popular with this crowd, deep in the high society as they are, but that's not going to stop her from being as firmly herself as possible. Anyone who seems interesting may attract her attention, and anyone who catches her attention is in danger of finding themselves the subject of an interview. She stalks up, a pad of paper and a pen in her hand, and fixes them with a piercing look through the dark eye pieces of her mask.]

Have time for a few questions?

[She avoids the dance floor at all costs, but at times she can be found grabbing food. She avoids alcohol, however, as well as any food she hasn't seen someone else eat first. Call her paranoid, but she hardly wants to be a victim of the game she hates so much. It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

The other place she can be found is, well, anywhere. She's a reporter, and there are secrets hidden here for those bold enough to go after them. There are a lot of places she isn't supposed to go, and if she knows the nobility, that's where the bodies are usually found.

Often literally.

Let's just hope she doesn't become one of them.]

Day 1, because I said so

[insincerecharm]

[Becks is still trying to piece all of this together, the point, the purpose, what doom may be looming on the horizon. She's seeking out people she knows because at least that means they'll be possibly reasonable, unless they've been taken under the Event's wing. But it's as good as any place to start. Though, finding the familiar is harder to do when so many of the party-goers have hidden their faces under masks, simple and intricate alike.

A familiar voice goes a long way, though, and she spins on her heel when she hears that question.]

Thank God. [She mutters quietly.] I've been looking for you.

Kol Mikaelson | OTA

[itchtokill]

{Leave your cares behind, these are the good times | Early Event
Kol Mikaelson is no stranger to a little mayhem, he's made quite the name for himself for it. If the scales are tipped for calamity, it's entirely possible he may be behind it. Pray to anyone that will listen if he gets his sights on you for anything, because Kol is ruthless when he's feeling bored and murderous. The Game is his lifeblood, and he thrives in everything it stands for. His sister is the only one he really listens to about anything, ever, so mind your manners if Freya isn't on hand or nearby or you may end up seeing just how good a player he is.

He wears a simple mask, but it conceals enough of his face that it's nearly impossible to completely recognize him. He winds his way through the party early on, indulging in little more than idle chatter and something of keeping up appearances.

{Knock you out the frame, game on | Late Event


Eventually, though, Kol gets bored. Dancing and drinking are great forms of entertainment, but honestly, he needs something more exciting to keep his attention. There's a Game to be played and he intends to play it well. Perhaps you notice that something of value has gone missing. Or maybe he's just intruding on your conversation, inviting himself in for a little gossip. Wait long enough and he might even get bored enough to get violent-- and lay blame on anyone in the vicinity he can.

rick "richard" sanchez "saint" - ota - did you know that sanchez derives from the word "holy"

[wriggedywrecked]

[OTA: Richard Saint does not want to be here. He hates parties. He hates all this fancy bullshit. Every once in awhile he thinks he'd rather just be a commoner than just enough of a noble to warrant an invitation to parties like this. He'd rather be at home making explosives. But at least these parties have free food and lots of free alcohol. He at least bothered to dress up and wear his mask, because he's not stupid enough to openly mock any of the royals by showing up in anything less. He's given the bare minimum of effort, which is to be expected of a lesser noble.]

[Richard mostly stays near where the alcohol is, or alternately he stays outdoors away from the crowds. People who don't know him might assume he's just being a wallflower. People who do know him probably also know about his reputation for misanthropy, his disdain for politics, and the small handful of public reprimands for "ignoble behavior," mostly public drunkenness. And that time he was accused of being a mage because of his interest in alchemy.

Staying on the edges of things also allows him a good vantage point in case anything interesting happens, like someone getting murdered or whatever.]

[Open to Inquisition: One of the main reasons he showed up tonight instead of committing some kind of small-scale arson to get out of going is because the Inquisition is slated to be here. They're the only group in the current day who might actually appreciate his skills. The people who regularly fight demons and other weird shit probably have need of a hedge apothecary who specializes in explosive chemicals, right?]

[Richard is the least subtle noble in probably all of Orlais, so he doesn't do the thing where he tries to cozy up to the Inquisition and start with small talk and offhand comments. He doesn't beat around the bush. He just goes up to whatever Inquisition folk he can find and asks, "Hey, so how do I join?"]

[normandysbest]

[Well, if he gets lucky, there will be a stabbing, mostly because there's someone carrying around live steel out here.

Shepard is not a party person. Shepard is a chavaier, who would rather be out in the field and doing Anything But This, but she was personally asked and Tillie needed the backup and yatta yatta yatta. So she's here by the booze by the end of day 2, praying for this to just end already, just griping for conversation that isn't stupid.

She picks him because he looks like he can put 'em away, and she needs that kind of energy in her life right now.]

So you, uh, got a favorite here?

[Drinks, food, people, who cares, she'll just see what he says.]