Re: The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round Three: The Sable Masque
07-10-2012, 07:31 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Phere was having a hard time coping with this situation. She wanted very much to march straight back into the serving quarters, get out of this degrading maid’s uniform and get back into something that more befitted someone of her status. She resented that the situation had conspired to force her to lower herself to performing menial tasks in what she was pretty sure was a sexually suggestive uniform. Ideally she would have liked to ignore this world, its etiquettes and protocols, and find and seek out each of her opponents individually. However that had been her goal in the previous round and she had ended up in a prison cell isolated from those she most wanted to seek out. Whether she could have avoided that cell by taking a more pressing interest in that musical world was irrelevant; she could not afford to get locked out of this castle a second time. She had been lucky to be allowed back in the first time and she did not have the power to force her way back in. It was only that she knew she could scant afford to break the protocols of this world that kept her pride barely in check.
What was more was that she felt like she was under scrutiny, and, of all people, she would know when she was being watched.
And so, reluctantly, Phere found herself doing as she was bid. She picked her way through the crowd, holding aloft a plate of finger food which she did not recognise but which had a delectable aroma. As she did so, she caught snippets of conversation from the revellers that surrounded her. Most of it she quickly filed away as uninteresting and irrelevant, such as the gossip about, oh, wasn’t such a person looking simply resplendent this evening, and oh, did you see this other person who was in the same dress that she wore to the Winter Ball last year; what an embarrassing faux pas! However there was information to be gleaned; she picked up upon the fact that this was a prelude to a grand coronation that would be taking place later and there seemed to be something very interesting that was being discussed in subdued tones by a group of men dressed in similarly subdued tones, who would stop talking whenever she found herself in earshot.
She was almost being drawn into the glamour, the grandeur and the intrigue of the masquerade when amongst the crowd she happened to spot a familiar face. Klendel was milling around with a group of the less interesting kind of party-goer. He wore a twinkling midnight black dress and a domino mask that couldn’t even begin to conceal his identity, and she was a little surprised that such a thing was not causing more of a fuss. This was a perfect opportunity, not only had she stumbled across another battler but one who had previously proven to be useful. She could use him again, though it would mean temporarily acting outside of the parameters of her role. It would be worth it. She didn’t think that five minutes talking to a guest would be seen as anything too untoward.
“Excuse me, wench. Wench.” Phere was suddenly drawn back to the here and now by an angry voice coming from about knee height. She looked down into the irritated red face of a short and cross man. “Does it look as though I am capable of reaching the lofty heights at which you are holding those snacks?” He sneered. The Empress momentarily scowled before remembering where she was and the pains she had gone to to get here.
“Here you are sir.” She said, passing the plate down to the dwarf. Temporarily unburdened she made her way through the crowd to her ally.
“We need to talk.” The whisper caught Klendel by surprise. It was unmistakably Phere’s voice but what he was looking at was a white-masked maid. He had noticed a couple of them milling around the room, but in his musings about his potentially awful plan he hadn’t really noticed as one of them had approached him.
“What are you wearing?” Klendel whispered back.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Phere retorted. “We should speak in private. I am drawing undue attention.” Klendel’s attention snapped back to the crowd of revellers which he had positioned himself to infiltrate and noticed that he was getting a couple of inquisitive looks as Phere walked away.
“Excuse me.” He said. He quickly gauged the mood of the group and continued: “You just cannot get the help nowadays.” He followed it up with a look that was calculated to indicate a general distaste for the serving class and turned to follow Phere as the group took the cue to complain about their own personal servants. As he followed her Klendel noted that Phere’s pace was not the self-assured stride that he had seen previously, it was meeker, much more timid than she could possibly have been feeling. It was interesting. Eventually Phere nipped through a door off the main hall into an empty corridor that lay beyond, a minute or so later Klendel followed her through.
For a moment the pair stood there simply looking at one another, neither wishing to speak first and show their hand, so to speak. When they did, the subject of their clothing was not touched upon again. Klendel had noted how Phere was attempting to fit in but for all he knew she was simply trying to make the best of the costume she had arrived in, as he had been contemplating doing. Phere on the other hand had barely given Klendel’s dress a second thought. Either way it was not worth broaching.
“I want a status report. Who died?” Phere asked; the tower had indicated Nalzaki’s death, but she felt it would be a good idea to have this verified by someone she could, if not trust, then at least believe. Though it was the tone of the question that Klendel seemed to focus upon; she had spoken in the same low whisper she had used in the crowded hall, and Klendel responded by warily glancing this way and that. “We’re being watched.” Phere explained.
“Are you sure?” Klendel asked taking another glance up and down the corridor.
“Trust me, I'm the expert when it comes to this kind of thing.” Phere hissed. “Now stop acting so incredibly conspicuous.” Klendel returned his focus to Phere and she irritably she repeated the question.
Phere’s condescending attitude grated upon the Cog, but he was careful not to show it. “You tell me.” He replied indifferently. “I was busy at the time.”
“I’m assuming you were not busy for the duration?” Phere asked. “Give me some idea of what happened.”
“How about we trade;” Klendel proposed, “for every question of yours I answer you answer one of my own.”
“Unacceptable.” Phere hissed. “You work for me remember, we have an agreement.” There was a contemplative pause. While that was indeed true that agreement had been made a couple of rounds ago when Phere had had a certain degree of power and influence. Klendel had no great affection for the Empress; her attitude irked him even if he was to overlook the fact that she was part of ruling class that he hated.
The pause had gone on a touch long for Phere’s liking; “Co-operate or I’ll kick up a fuss and I’ll get us both ejected from here.” It wasn’t much of a threat but her instincts told her that Klendel wanted to remain part of this masquerade as much as she did.
Klendel scrutinised Phere’s blank white mask, to be honest he doubted that even if she hadn’t been wearing it he would have been able to read her expression. Instinct told him that it was a bluff but he didn’t want to test it for a scrap of information Phere could get quite easily from talking with someone else. Up to a point it was actually sort of advantageous to have Phere believe he was her lackey, it never hurt to have your enemies underestimate you, or better yet not realise that you were their enemy at all.
“I was with Harmon and Cascala.” Klendel replied, he couldn’t help but notice that Phere stiffened at Cascala’s name. “She was acting oddly, barely lucid; Cascala that is.” Phere hmmed thoughtfully.
“Watch out for her.” She said. “She’s dangerous, cannot be trusted. Carry on as you were, blend into the crowd and find out what you can about this round. Get back to me if you find out anything interesting.” She paused. “Tell a maid you have a message for Meredith. They’ll see that I get it.”
“Anything else?” Klendel replied sarcastically.
“Yes, if the situation deteriorates to the point where we desperately need to move on I would recommend Cascala be the target of choice, but if Harmon is around then she is also acceptable.” Phere continued. “If you see Ivan before I do make sure to fill him in on this.”
“Excuse me?” The voice came from behind them, a white-masked maid peering through the doorway. Before Klendel could turn to see her, Phere slapped him in the face.
“I’m not that kind of girl!” she said at a volume much louder than their previous whispers, and without hesitation she strode past the Cog and towards the doorway where the maid awaited her. It was not the perfect cover, a determined observer would have seen Klendel follow Phere inside and know that the implication she was making did not hold true, but even that was far from enough to expose her. As she left, the maid followed her and engaged her in terse conversation that Klendel did not overhear.
He rubbed his face, more out of appearances than anything else, and contemplated his next move.
Phere was having a hard time coping with this situation. She wanted very much to march straight back into the serving quarters, get out of this degrading maid’s uniform and get back into something that more befitted someone of her status. She resented that the situation had conspired to force her to lower herself to performing menial tasks in what she was pretty sure was a sexually suggestive uniform. Ideally she would have liked to ignore this world, its etiquettes and protocols, and find and seek out each of her opponents individually. However that had been her goal in the previous round and she had ended up in a prison cell isolated from those she most wanted to seek out. Whether she could have avoided that cell by taking a more pressing interest in that musical world was irrelevant; she could not afford to get locked out of this castle a second time. She had been lucky to be allowed back in the first time and she did not have the power to force her way back in. It was only that she knew she could scant afford to break the protocols of this world that kept her pride barely in check.
What was more was that she felt like she was under scrutiny, and, of all people, she would know when she was being watched.
And so, reluctantly, Phere found herself doing as she was bid. She picked her way through the crowd, holding aloft a plate of finger food which she did not recognise but which had a delectable aroma. As she did so, she caught snippets of conversation from the revellers that surrounded her. Most of it she quickly filed away as uninteresting and irrelevant, such as the gossip about, oh, wasn’t such a person looking simply resplendent this evening, and oh, did you see this other person who was in the same dress that she wore to the Winter Ball last year; what an embarrassing faux pas! However there was information to be gleaned; she picked up upon the fact that this was a prelude to a grand coronation that would be taking place later and there seemed to be something very interesting that was being discussed in subdued tones by a group of men dressed in similarly subdued tones, who would stop talking whenever she found herself in earshot.
She was almost being drawn into the glamour, the grandeur and the intrigue of the masquerade when amongst the crowd she happened to spot a familiar face. Klendel was milling around with a group of the less interesting kind of party-goer. He wore a twinkling midnight black dress and a domino mask that couldn’t even begin to conceal his identity, and she was a little surprised that such a thing was not causing more of a fuss. This was a perfect opportunity, not only had she stumbled across another battler but one who had previously proven to be useful. She could use him again, though it would mean temporarily acting outside of the parameters of her role. It would be worth it. She didn’t think that five minutes talking to a guest would be seen as anything too untoward.
“Excuse me, wench. Wench.” Phere was suddenly drawn back to the here and now by an angry voice coming from about knee height. She looked down into the irritated red face of a short and cross man. “Does it look as though I am capable of reaching the lofty heights at which you are holding those snacks?” He sneered. The Empress momentarily scowled before remembering where she was and the pains she had gone to to get here.
“Here you are sir.” She said, passing the plate down to the dwarf. Temporarily unburdened she made her way through the crowd to her ally.
“We need to talk.” The whisper caught Klendel by surprise. It was unmistakably Phere’s voice but what he was looking at was a white-masked maid. He had noticed a couple of them milling around the room, but in his musings about his potentially awful plan he hadn’t really noticed as one of them had approached him.
“What are you wearing?” Klendel whispered back.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Phere retorted. “We should speak in private. I am drawing undue attention.” Klendel’s attention snapped back to the crowd of revellers which he had positioned himself to infiltrate and noticed that he was getting a couple of inquisitive looks as Phere walked away.
“Excuse me.” He said. He quickly gauged the mood of the group and continued: “You just cannot get the help nowadays.” He followed it up with a look that was calculated to indicate a general distaste for the serving class and turned to follow Phere as the group took the cue to complain about their own personal servants. As he followed her Klendel noted that Phere’s pace was not the self-assured stride that he had seen previously, it was meeker, much more timid than she could possibly have been feeling. It was interesting. Eventually Phere nipped through a door off the main hall into an empty corridor that lay beyond, a minute or so later Klendel followed her through.
For a moment the pair stood there simply looking at one another, neither wishing to speak first and show their hand, so to speak. When they did, the subject of their clothing was not touched upon again. Klendel had noted how Phere was attempting to fit in but for all he knew she was simply trying to make the best of the costume she had arrived in, as he had been contemplating doing. Phere on the other hand had barely given Klendel’s dress a second thought. Either way it was not worth broaching.
“I want a status report. Who died?” Phere asked; the tower had indicated Nalzaki’s death, but she felt it would be a good idea to have this verified by someone she could, if not trust, then at least believe. Though it was the tone of the question that Klendel seemed to focus upon; she had spoken in the same low whisper she had used in the crowded hall, and Klendel responded by warily glancing this way and that. “We’re being watched.” Phere explained.
“Are you sure?” Klendel asked taking another glance up and down the corridor.
“Trust me, I'm the expert when it comes to this kind of thing.” Phere hissed. “Now stop acting so incredibly conspicuous.” Klendel returned his focus to Phere and she irritably she repeated the question.
Phere’s condescending attitude grated upon the Cog, but he was careful not to show it. “You tell me.” He replied indifferently. “I was busy at the time.”
“I’m assuming you were not busy for the duration?” Phere asked. “Give me some idea of what happened.”
“How about we trade;” Klendel proposed, “for every question of yours I answer you answer one of my own.”
“Unacceptable.” Phere hissed. “You work for me remember, we have an agreement.” There was a contemplative pause. While that was indeed true that agreement had been made a couple of rounds ago when Phere had had a certain degree of power and influence. Klendel had no great affection for the Empress; her attitude irked him even if he was to overlook the fact that she was part of ruling class that he hated.
The pause had gone on a touch long for Phere’s liking; “Co-operate or I’ll kick up a fuss and I’ll get us both ejected from here.” It wasn’t much of a threat but her instincts told her that Klendel wanted to remain part of this masquerade as much as she did.
Klendel scrutinised Phere’s blank white mask, to be honest he doubted that even if she hadn’t been wearing it he would have been able to read her expression. Instinct told him that it was a bluff but he didn’t want to test it for a scrap of information Phere could get quite easily from talking with someone else. Up to a point it was actually sort of advantageous to have Phere believe he was her lackey, it never hurt to have your enemies underestimate you, or better yet not realise that you were their enemy at all.
“I was with Harmon and Cascala.” Klendel replied, he couldn’t help but notice that Phere stiffened at Cascala’s name. “She was acting oddly, barely lucid; Cascala that is.” Phere hmmed thoughtfully.
“Watch out for her.” She said. “She’s dangerous, cannot be trusted. Carry on as you were, blend into the crowd and find out what you can about this round. Get back to me if you find out anything interesting.” She paused. “Tell a maid you have a message for Meredith. They’ll see that I get it.”
“Anything else?” Klendel replied sarcastically.
“Yes, if the situation deteriorates to the point where we desperately need to move on I would recommend Cascala be the target of choice, but if Harmon is around then she is also acceptable.” Phere continued. “If you see Ivan before I do make sure to fill him in on this.”
“Excuse me?” The voice came from behind them, a white-masked maid peering through the doorway. Before Klendel could turn to see her, Phere slapped him in the face.
“I’m not that kind of girl!” she said at a volume much louder than their previous whispers, and without hesitation she strode past the Cog and towards the doorway where the maid awaited her. It was not the perfect cover, a determined observer would have seen Klendel follow Phere inside and know that the implication she was making did not hold true, but even that was far from enough to expose her. As she left, the maid followed her and engaged her in terse conversation that Klendel did not overhear.
He rubbed his face, more out of appearances than anything else, and contemplated his next move.
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Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You