World Tree MUSH

The White Palace's gardens are open to the public tonight, as the King of North America is celebrating the ascension of his latest aspirant to eternity, having finally been granted permission by the Emperor. Offworlders, Vampires and their staff are welcome to join the celebration. Given the reluctance of many influential vampires to travel too far from their domains, this effectively makes it a fairly modest occassion.

Diana wanted to take the opportunity to scout the premises, and asked a friend to serve as her excuse. Thus, she's wearing the same red dress and excaggarated features mask that responds to her expressions beneath. "Your excellency." She offers to her companion in a clearly practiced deferential tone, "We have arrived at the White Palace. Though it's been built up since the war, it's still mostly the same building as was once used by mortal leaders before they tried to eliminate their natural superiors in their hubris."

Serrah is looking dour. She's trying to make it look like the 'haughty, brooding vampire' sort of dour, rather than the 'scrappy post-teenager who would rather be doing literally anything else than actually take the role of a vampire countess' sort of dour, and she's finding it unsettlingly easy. She's conjured herself up an elegant red and black ballgown, and she might stand out among the other vampires of this world by the fact that her attractiveness is specifically in an anemic sort of way, and by the unhealthy appearance of her skin.

"Indeed," she says impassively. "I am ... impressed that this world's Empire has accomplished all this by force." She adds a little bit of extra haughtiness as she adds, "His Imperial Majesty Emperor Hartford prefers the finesse of economic control." Her own cover story: she's not here as an ambassador or representative from the Hartford Empire, it's an independent political maneuver against her sire. Totes cool with His Majesty, of course, yeah!

  There are advantages to masks. They mean not having to share one's reactions with the people around them, no matter the situation. They mean the luxury of remaining aloof from the crowd.

  So it is that a masked stranger lingers near the outskits of the gathering. Some manner of fencer, by attire and equipment: The figure is slight enough to be a woman or an effeminate man, clad in armour not dissimilar to the Mediterranean in its style; crisp white silk shirt, gilded black leather cuirass, leather leggings, well-worn boots, a frayed scrap of faded blue fabric tucked at the belt like a tabard. Tooled black gloves.

  A long blonde rope of a braid lies over the front of a shoulder, and the aloof figure toys absently with the end of it while listening.

  The mask is the guise of a stern-faced man, and the hat shades the mask. Black and broad-brimmed in Mediterranean style, it supports a brace of soft white feathers and a knife-like black plume jutting straight up from the band.

  The person is obviously listening to the gathering, with subtle tilts of the head this way and that, telegraphed by the angle of the hat's brim and the bob of its feathers. To look at different folk through the eye slots, too; gaze lingering sometimes here and there at half-familiar features of passers-by.

  In short, this person is less here to mingle and be merry, and more here to look for someone.

  Who knows what their cover story is? Maybe they're here as security. They certainly do have weapons on them: A great big two-handed blade, a buckler, and a rapier at the other hip, all very nicely made. Maybe they're some filthy rich noble's bodyguard for the evening. Or general event security. Or something.

  Proooobably an offworlder, too.

    New world, new people. More humans, it seemed, though some of the residents scoffed at being called such creatures! They were quick to correct her. 'Vampires?' This was the first time she had heard of such things in the realms beyond Hallownest. This.. would require a bit more investigation when she had the time. For now? It seemed her somewhat upscale attire had earned her a random citizen's tip that she probably should head for the gardens at the WHITE PALACE. That had Hornet's attention pretty high! Due to this, she took the offered information, offered her thanks, and followed the citizen's directions to the palace. 

        There weren't nearly enough sawblades here...

    Still, the palace was an impressive one, despite the name initially causing confusion. It made sense that HE wouldn't be here. Some part of her had hoped, but that wasn't the case. Instead she started to mingle, to listen, to try things, but she was even more obviously an off-worlder than the rest. It led to a bit of isolation which hardly bothered her. That was a normal state of her being. It was enough to listen, overhear, and eavesdrop. It was a good way to get the first bits of information she wanted about a new world.

"It is my understanding that in the days of yore, such was the preferred method here as well; but in their hubris the mortals tried to assert control, and in their defeat ceded even the illusion of control." Diana answers Serrah, same deferential voice; playing the part of offworlder who has done the research instead of the native she actually is.

She spies the other offworlders. "His Royal Majesty is bound to appear soon, your excellency, but in the meantime why not mingle with our fellow offworlders." She leads the way towards Hornet, though the strange mask's gaze blatantly turns towards Lucatiel at some points, one of its eyebrows raising.

Serrah nods, following Diana. "Of course, of course," she says, a bit brusquely. She looks over both Lucatiel and Hornet in an appraising manner ...

... and then it might seem as though she's twitched slightly from one posture to the next, like she was a video that skipped ahead.

Diana, of course, would perceive a ripple of light emanating from Serrah, and the world turning more monochromatic with a purple tint, as time stopped. "Okay, uh," she says in her normal tone, "I'm just gonna ... follow your lead on how to talk to them without, like, giving the game away to everyone else, if you think that's a good idea. Unless we can just have a quick timestop conversation?" She shakes her head. "Uh, up to you, I guess," she adds, before resuming time.

  The black hat and mask tilt upward, incrementally, enough to suggest that the masked fencer is probably listening to the distant conversation between Diana and Serrah. When Diana's mask turns toward her, the brazen mask turns to face it straight, staring her down. Definitely not shy, this one.

  It turns very slightly sidelong towards Serrah at the comment; and then tilts, slightly.

  Wasn't she just standing in a slightly different place a few seconds ago? The mask lingers in Serrah's direction, as though staring intently. The figure doesn't comment, yet, but does appear to be Watching Very Closely.

    There's not much to draw Hornet's attention, at least not yet. Even the flick of position by Serrah does seem to turn her head. Did she notice? It's hard to tell from her gaze, and features. Most aren't even sure if Hornet wears a mask or not! Hmm hmm. Questions questions, but so few answers. At least she's near by. These ones seemed like they weren't from this realm as well. That could be good ... or bad..

For one reason or another, Diana doesn't answer Serrah until time resumes. "Of course, your excellency, as an offworlder it is to be expected if you make some mistakes in your etiquette. That is, after all, why you have me." She offers with an incline of her head. She makes it to Lucatiel, that mask turning into an excaggarated smile. "A curious world with particular customs is it not, ma'am?" She asks, "This is Countess Serrah Delany, and I am her guide, Anne Winthrop." She offers.

At this point, the white house doors open, and the trumpets blast announcing the arrival of His Majesty, King Napoleon Washington II of North America and his companion for the evening, Miss Elizabeth On47776, soon to be Lady Elizabeth Washington. The crowd's attention heads for the North Portico, whereupon they stand, flanked by guards and servants.

Serrah meets Lucatiel's gaze, and for a split second, she has an uncharacteristic smirk. "Of House D'Ambrosio," she corrects "Anne", a slightly chiding tone to her voice, before she turns her attention on Lucatiel. "And who might you be, hmmm?" Yeah, no, she's definitely trying not to crack up at this charade, though it's probably only obvious if you're as close to her as Lucatiel is. Unlike Diana, Serrah has no experience at this level of deception.

Her gaze turns towards His Majesty as he arrives, affecting a nod of approval, and she puts on a fangy grin. Again, it would only be possible to see how fake her grin is up close.

  The head of the masked fencer doesn't so much as twitch, staring down the creepy exaggerated smile on the mask of 'Anne Winthrop.' Reflected light from behind the slots over the eyes suggests Lucatiel is staring straight, though.

  "What is it?" The tone is one of disinterest. While the voice is low and hard, it is still clearly a woman's voice, and the head tilts a little in a gesture of focus almost exaggerated. "I don't know you, and you don't know me. Things are better that way..." But they're still asking, prying, and so she heaves a dull, exasperated sigh. There is nothing jaundiced in her reply, though that edge of disinterest still colours her tone.

  "I am Lucatiel of Mirrah." Serrah is eyed for a moment, although the slight sideways tilt of Lucatiel's mask might not be easy to read. And her head is still there, watching, at Serrah's obviously fake fangy grin.

  She at least has the tact not to call Serrah out on it.

  "What are they doing, up there?" Feline disinterest, but it might be handy to be aware of the connotations of whatever this strange, arcane ritual is. Lucatiel's mask turns again, this time to eye Serrah and Diana.

  Hornet, however, is eyed again. It's somehow appraising, despite being hidden by bronze; one warrior sizing up another. "You there." It's not as impolite a hail as the words could be. "Do you know what transpires, here?" A gloved hand is flicked toward the portico.

    Trumpets sound, people speak, a ruler is produced, and Hornet's attention is caught. Some sort of presentation, ceremony, she thought she heard 'ascension'? That's a dangerous word, but one that could prove itself one way or another given certain circumstances. She'd approach, but being hailed by Lucatiel pulls her gaze from the ruler and his companion to the bronzed mask set under a peculiar hat. 

    Not one to be rude, Hornet closes distance. "A ceremony of sorts. I overheard the word ascension for the one alongside the ruler, here. I am not familiar with these hu- ... these vampires, as of yet. From what I have gathered, the human there will become one.. somehow. That is my theory, so far." Serrah and Diana? They are glanced at, possibly acknowledged, but not spoken to. They did not ask a question.

"My sincerest apologies, your excellence." 'Anne' offers rapidly, bowing deeply with her mask turning to an expression of panic. "It won't happen again." She visibly relaxes after some time, playing the part of a loyal retainer kept in line in part with fear; as befits this world.

Lucatiel's question gets a detailed answer, "It's a rather joyous occassion, ma'am. Per the traditions of this world, none may grant the blessing of eternity without the blessing of a superior. Being King, his Majesty requires such permission from the Emperor himself. The Emperor does not often grant such permissions, but as a reward for his loyalty, such permission has been granted."

"In a moment, he will drink every drop of blood in her body; killing her, but before she can move on, he will imbue her with some blood of his own, thereby reinvigorating her body and granting her eternity." Dianne manages to do a decent job of sounding incredibly jealous of miss Elizabeth. "Those who have been blessed with Eternity are, indeed, known as Vampires by traditional nomenclature. They will not age, they will be granted superhuman powers, and they will need no sustenance other than the blood of man, sustenance easily provided by the swathes of humans living under the eternal rule of their empire."

Though, this all happens with pomp and circumstance. Currently, King Napoleon Washington II is holding a lengthy speech detailing his loyalty to the Emperor and praising his aspirant, not keen to waste a good opportunity to hear his own voice.

Serrah nods. "Indeed," she says. "Though we of our own world are of a more ... different stripe. The turning of mortals into immortals is more of a ... business investment." She pauses, and looks between Lucatiel and Hornet, with an expression that more-or-less breaks character.

And then suddenly, the world is frozen and purple and monochromatic except for Lucatiel, Hornet, and Serrah, who is standing between them and touching both of them on the shoulder, which is clearly allowing them to see and move while time is stopped. "-- no, sorry, I can't keep up this charade any longer," she's in the middle of saying, grinning nervously. "Or, I mean, I can, just. Not for a whole conversation with people I'm not hiding from. Uh, I'm kind of anti-vampire, even though I am a vampire, because I was forcibly turned, I'm just here because of ..." She glances at Diana (who can also see while time is stopped, but she is still frozen in time unless she activates her own copied Stop the World). "... because of reasons. And I am actually seriously considering running the hell away before I have to watch a woman getting turned with a straight face." She hesitates, but doesn't continue.

  The explanations from their various sources are all taken in silently by Lucatiel, evidently thoughtful. Or at least refraining from comment in the meantime. In fact, there's such a stillness about her that she must surely be grappling with the detailed explanation of what it is for a soul here to ascend.

  "Wretched." The observation is neither loud nor quiet; a woman not necessarily trying to advertise what she thinks, but one who's also unafraid to hide it. She folds her arms, leaning back against the column. "As wretched as the folk of Drangleic, scrabbling after souls..." Her tone is odd, though. Is that a note of self-deprecation?

  "Thank you." The statement is given with a little more force than might be expected, as though to cut off any further explanation. Lucatiel pushes off from the column and trails past Serrah, Diana, and Hornet; inclining her head to them in elegant, polite gesture. Hornet, at least, she's pretty sure isn't native to this place. There's no call to be //rude//, after all. "Perhaps our roads will cross again... perhaps they--"

  Lucatiel stiffens when her shoulder is touched; Serrah might hear the sudden intake of breath behind the mask. The fencer stiffens even more when the world turns soft around the edges and tinted sort of purple. Well, now, that's different.

  "Then come with me." This, to Serrah; as the fencer turns her back. "I have likewise seen enough. Leave this place, as I intend to. I am searching for something that is not here; I have already spent too much time in this place."

  If Serrah intends to tag along, she might need to jog to catch up. The Knight of Mirrah is already walking away.

    Ehs? What's with this time freeze? These other people? This is all... very odd. She isn't at -all- what to make of any of it at this point.. "What .. just happened?"

After the timestop ends, 'Anne' nods, and triggers a noticable beeping which causes her to look at her wrist. "Your excellency, an urgent message from your sire. You are to drop everything and attend at once." She lies easily, and goes along with escorting Serrah out while the King is in the middle of his speech. Once out of the crowd she quietly offers, "Thanks for coming with me."