Party at Revelers, Part I

["House Ginaz" <house_ginaz@hotmail.com>]

A log of last night's party at Revelers. I've collaborated with Angelos, who 
witnessed the beginning of the party; I lasted a lot longer though so 
between the two of us we covered a good chunk of the festivities. I'm sure 
it continued into the wee hours but it was 2am here so someone else can fill 
in the goings-on at the very end.

Here are the descs, I captured most of them (but not all, I think). 
Apologies if I missed yours.

Descs:

Lucia

     Lucia's long black hair is pulled back into a thick braid that reaches 
about half-way down her back. Her eyes are dark, almost black, and set wide 
apart over high cheekbones. A thin, delicate nose and lips compliment her 
sharp chin. She is about six feet tall in her boots and she wears black 
cloth pants tucked into her boots and a white poet's blouse, with full 
sleeves gathered at the wrist, and a loose collar. A grey whaleskin vest and 
a belt with shield, low across her hips, complete the outfit. A slip-tip is 
only partially concealed in her left boot.

Varota
A dark-skinned, well-built man in his early forties. His black hair is 
slicked and swept back into a thick ponytail, emphasizing his open brow and 
beautiful almond-shaped black eyes. He is long-limbed and wide of shoulder, 
of elegantly-made head with chiseled fine features. He is dressed in a very 
elegant burgundy waistcoat, a white lace cravat peeking out from within, 
with dark trousers in a discreet stripe and leathern buckled shoes to 
complete the ensemble. He has an easy, engaging smile and a merry tenor 
voice, speech slightly accented of his native Chusuk.


Scaurus
A calculating and cold glare just about sums up the nature of Charles 
Scaurus, the Managing Director of CHOAM and Imperial Treasurer. His eyes are 
blue within blue and little white remains as the watery pools of spice 
addiction shine like beacons in the night. His hair is a jet black, sleeked 
back to show an often creasing forehead and plucked black eyebrows. He seems 
to be of a medium height, perhaps 6' or a little shorter, but is certainly 
not a tall man. His skin, even though it is fairly obvious he is not the 
youngest of men, remains unblemished and very few wrinkles can be seen other 
than on his forehead.

For a man of his status, his attire is usual attire is somewhat bleak. He 
wears a black suit, complimented by gold cuff buttons with lions on them. On 
his right hand are two rings for House Scaurus and House Corrino, as well as 
a third on his left hand for CHOAM. Imprinted on the left breast of his 
uniform are the lion of House Corrino, serpent of House Scaurus and in gold, 
the letters CHOAM.

Charles Scaurus carries himself with an air of pride and often disdain for 
others. He is coveted in importance and arrogance, and his face seldom 
wavers from the proud, rather daunting look he gives.

Angelos
A man who can only be described as /thick/, dressed in an intricately folded 
white toga. A crown fashioned from some green leafy foliage sits atop his 
graying head, and the toga is fastened with a large golden brooch. His beard 
looks to be about a week old, and is pure white and very thick. His face is 
lumpy and slightly wrinkled, and the creases at the corners of his mouth and 
eyes make it look as if he's about to smile ever so slightly. He walks with 
a very pronounced limp, aided by a white cane fashioned of marble with a 
golden handle. Despite this injury, he cuts an imposing figure, looking like 
an ancient philosopher.

Anakiel
        Anakiel's time on Kaitain has shaped him into a much greater 
creature than when he first set foot on its manicured soil. He stands tall 
and straight, unbowed by gravity's incessant pull, his over seven foot tall 
stature setting him out in a crowd. Instead of a fragile spacer's build, 
however, he's broad of shoulder and sleekly muscular...not burly, as so many 
of the Harkonnen are, but compactly powerful like some jungle predator given 
human shape. Maturity has stripped the boyish roundness from his features, 
leaving a strong jaw and chiseled features. His eyes are a fierce green, 
like emeralds, bright and glittering beneath oddly delicate brows. His hair, 
cornsilk-pale and soft as unspun silk, is no longer allowed to flutter free 
but is rather braided back into dozens of severe cornrows and then gathered 
into a long tail. Rows of black and scarlet beads clatter softly with each 
movement of his head. He remains a magnificent creature, but less of an 
exquisite dove and more of a pale-plumaged falcon.
        He's dressed in a truly exotic outfit this evening, though it's 
perhaps not one the nobles of Kaitain are too used to seeing. A bodysuit of 
glistening black material hugs every curve and angle of his sleek frame with 
subtle precision, revealing the feline shift of muscle with each change in 
the light. Tall boots of black patent leather reach to his knees, the 
pronounced heels no doubt contributing a great deal to his distinctive 
height. His arms are bare, exposing the black and scarlet face of a stylized 
wolf snarling viciously from his right bicep. Cascades of iridescent black 
material cascade from his shoulders, down his sides to slim wristcuffs 
forming jagged, rustling wings and a glossy cape that flutters with every 
movement. A necklace of black iron and indigo jewels glitters about his 
neck, reflecting the light like a thousand cruel eyes. He wears makeup, 
subtly executed to make his too-green eyes seem all the more bright when 
outlined in kohl, a swath of blue sweeping outward from his eyelids and back 
into his hair. His lips have likewise been painted crystal-blue, making him 
seem like some lovely, frozen angel.

Lynx

        Green eyes gleam from behind a half mask of lustrous dark grey 
velvet, outlined in black. The velvet sweeps back into a slight ruff of 
whiter fur, and up to pricked, tufted ears. Pearly fangs protrude slightly 
from beneath the silver-whiskered lips of the mask. The fair-skinned, smooth 
shaven jaw is all that's left exposed of the human wearer beneath the Lynx's 
visage...that and a bit of ash-blonde, cropped hair.
        His form is leanly slender, rather than massively 
muscled...heightening the impression that here is one who's left the end of 
physical childhood not all that long ago. His shoulders are square though, 
and his hands strong and deft. The general sense of his movement is not a 
catlike strength, but a sense of barely contained energy, like a tightly 
wound spring.
        He wears something akin to a cassock or close-fitted robe of deep 
cobalt velvet, buttoned to the waist where it flares out over black 
breeches, which are in turn tucked to glossy black boots. An elaborate 
collar of black leather and chain is snugged around the pale throat. From a 
silver-studded belt hangs a kindjal curved like an cat's claw, in an 
intricate silver sheath.
        The peridot-colored eyes glitter with a nearly feverish intensity, 
wide and fierce - coming close, one can see that they've been subtly painted 
in silvergrey, and lined with kohl, making them even larger and brighter 
than usual. Unsually for him, there's a faint scent of spice and musk that 
lingers in his immediate vicinity.

Satyavrat

        Beneath a plated iron helm inlaid with gold, the occasional curled 
black locks of hair spill across this man's face, partially covering his 
temples and cheeks. Brown eyes encased in a blue sheen gaze warmly at you 
beneath the helm's central pike, positioned at the ridge of a narrow face 
the color of sun-warmed earth.

        A tunic of linked metal chains covers his torso, falling in gentle 
clinks to the middle of his thighs. A colorful undershirt of bright yellow 
with green starlets and border clings tightly to his upper arms where it 
emerges from the armor, running up to his wrist guards and down to his 
knees. Simple blue pantaloons are tucked into high red leather boots.

        Completing this Paladin's garb are a scarlet cape billowing about 
him from his neck and a longsword held in a leather sheath at his waist. A 
round shield is in his right hand, the Rising Phoenix of House Rastanyev 
emblazoned upon it.

Ekaterina
        A young woman, masked in a silver domino, her coppery curls caught 
up elegantly with an elaborately carved wooden comb, pthalo blue eyes large 
and darkly luminous in the set of her face. Her nose is almost adorably 
impish, settled smoothly above the seashell pink of her undisturbed lips. An 
ornamental piece of tear-shaped solidite hangs between her brows, and a band 
of carved wooden rings forms a chain around the narrow span of her throat.

        Sophistication rests so blithely on her cheeks, it becomes barely 
noticeable after a moment. She smells vaguely of off-world citrus, a tang 
not unpleasant to the nostrils.

        The neckline of her gown is square, but modest, hinting only at the 
transformation of the youthful flesh beneath. The gown itself is a sheath 
constructed of dark blue silk, faintly lustrous, and patterned with 
arabesque swirls of golden silk embroidery. A short train cascades from the 
back of the dress in a blue and gold swirl, sweeping the ground behind. A 
sari-wrap of the same fabric covers all elegantly, tiny golden tassels 
forming a staggered fringe at the hem.

Serpent

        This tall young woman appears to be in her mid-twenties. At just an 
inch under six feet tall, she manages both statuesque voluptuousness and 
lithe athleticism. There's nothing soft about her, yet she maintains an 
almost aggressive femininity. Her white-blonde hair is worn braided back 
against her scalp, and then left loose to hang down just past her shoulders. 
This heightens the sculpted angles of her cheekbones. Her eyelids have been 
shaded with silvery gray shadow and outlined with kohl to emphasis her 
bright blue eyes even more. The silvery-grey color actually spans out over 
the flesh of her face and on down her body, and if one gets very close, the 
detail of reptilian scales can be seen drawn over her flesh. She wears no 
mask, and as such the entirety of her face, including her full, pouted lips, 
remain revealed. They are glossed lightly to luscious effect, and though 
shaded in such a way as to make her appear to have a serpent's mouth. It 
provides her with an arrogant, dangerous beauty. She moves with confidence, 
her stance and movement predatory.

        The grey, scaled sheen that runs over her face continues down the 
length of her body - and only a slightly dark tube beandeau top and a high 
cut pair of bikini cut bottoms interrupt the smooth flow of the body paint, 
designed to make her appear as the first of all the temptations, the snake 
in the garden. Every other inch of skin is revealed, every sculpted, sleek 
muscle displayed and sinuous. If she has a scar, a flaw, or a blemish on her 
body, it has been cunningly hidden.

Germina
Lady Germina is a petite woman with curly, shoulder length black hair. Her 
tresses are pulled back from her face to reveal her bright green eyes and 
full lips. Gerimina has a beautiful figure that moves gracefully, almost cat 
like.
        Germina is dressed in a richly elaborate gown of deep green silks. 
The bodice of the dress, snug in all the right places reveals an ample 
amount of cleavage, though the deep neck line which falls to a v between her 
breasts. The skirts, while full, are slit at the side, almost to her thigh 
which, when sitting would reveal a good portion of her slender, athletic 
legs. The ample and poofed leg o mutton sleeves are long and cover the 
bandages that are wrapped around her wrists almost fully, exposing only a 
bit of white gauze.
        Her hair is piled atop her head today in an intricate pattern of 
braids and knots, a few strands falling losely abou ther face. She wears a 
rather dour expression as if judging all those who pass within her sights.
        At her waist she wears a personal shield generator. Around her neck 
hangs a necklace given to her on her sixteenth birthday by her father. The 
pendant shows the insignia of House Venhei.

Ophelia
The Queen of Hearts,
She made some tarts,
All on a summer's day.

The Knave of Hearts,
He stole the tarts,
And took them clean away.

Of average height, she carries the olive-toned complexion known to her 
mother's side, though not as dark as most. Her lips are full, her nose 
rounded and smallish. But her eyes are rimmed in thick lashes, and the 
irises so darkly colored as to nearly be indistinguishable from the pupils. 
Her face, however, is covered at the top half by a white silken mask, red 
hearts decorating its edges.

Her thick, black hair is absolutely straight, resisting any and all efforts 
to hold the curls so stylish and luxurious to have. So instead, she wears it 
pulled back and plaited into several braids which are gathered at the nape 
of her neck. Though simple, the coif is very elegant. Atop her ebon head, an 
ornate crown sits, fit for a queen.

She does not have the small waistline, either, of the fine young ladies who 
favor the waif look. Ample in bosom, her figure surely depends on rigid 
corsetry to contain that hourglass shape. The tightness of her very low-cut 
bodice threatens disaster momentarily with every breath, yet, amazingly, 
everything remains held together. She wears a gown of deep, rich burgundy 
velvet, the sleeves nothing more than short caps at the tops of her arms 
which leave the soft skin of her arms bare. The skirts are wide and full, 
and whisper across the floor as she walks. Hearts embroidered in gold adorn 
the skirts of the gown, and jewels adorn her neck, ears, and fingers. A long 
strand of pearls is looped around close to her neck, and then a second much 
longer loop hangs nearly to her waist, while pearl and garnet earrings 
dangle from her ears. In her hands, she holds a sceptre, equal in 
ornamentation to the crown on her head.

Ali-Hamal


        From storybook pages in a plume of imaginary smoke comes this 
fellow, a tower of jolly sinew - newly sprung from some tarnished lamp of 
ancient Araby.

        He is a mountain of flesh, this creature, muscled and scarred from 
ages of laborious toil; as a bull, he is, with chest ungirt with harness or 
leather and skin rubbed deep burnished crimson aglitter with flecks of 
golden dust. His head is shaved clean, his ears and one thick nipple hung 
with hoops of gleaming gold - the sharp lines of a Manchurian beard framing 
a stubbornly square-shaped chin gives him a devillish quality. Dark eyes 
flash with perverse mirth from beneath heavy brows; what jest the towering 
fellow bears in mind is fodder for the imagination.

        He wears a broad leather girdle about his waist, plainly stamped and 
broad as a man's hand, and beneath that billowing harem breeches of 
brilliant crimson silk - he wears no shoes, simply plain bands of gold about 
toes as thick as door-pegs. More leather binds his left forearm in the shape 
of a broad bracing-band - but for the right, where there must have once been 
a mate for his ham-sized hands, a smooth brass cuff covers the void of 
severance. He is djinn of strange and motley make, indeed....

Conium
        Coni is a slender, tall and stately woman. Her blonde hair, close to 
white in color, is often pulled back in a tight weave. A torque sits at the 
crown of her head, on elone blue star sapphire adorning the center of her 
forehead within the platinum setting.Her face, chiseled and long, supports 
high cheekbones just below her blue within blue eyes, only recently 
acquired. A fine boned nose sits above pale pink lips and a square yet 
delicate chin.
        Coni can be found in form fitting gowns that show off her overly 
slender figure. She generally opts for black dresses in matte fabrics, plain 
in appearance, yet cut to emphasize her form in all the right places, 
especially emphasizing an ample bust line to which the front of her dress 
dips down into her cleavage. Slender sleeves flow into bells at her wrists 
where the fabric seamlessly turns sheer and flowing. The skirts of her 
slender dresses are always straight, with a slit up the side to her knee. 
Generally a short train of the same sheer fabric at her wrists trails a foot 
behind her.
        At Coni's throat lies a thick platinum chain, adorned at the center 
by a blue star sapphire, surrounded by diamond son either side. More 
platinum rings adorn her fingers in countless patterns and shapes.
        Coni's mood is generally pleasant if somewhat removed, as if she is 
constantly observing and judging every action around her.

Dracula
        About average height but the body is built solid, and chiseled like 
a fine Greek statue alluding to the strength and agility of a skilled boxer 
and fencer. The lips are formed into a straight line under glowing blue with 
in blue eyes of a heavy melange diet. Close inspection of the Romanesque 
face and nose tell the story of grueling boxing matches but overall the face 
is handsome. A mustache and connected goatee are black as night. Hair of the 
same color is cut short and styled smartly. Each ring finger has a single 
platinum banded ruby ring adorning it. A thick, bulky platinum chain hangs 
around the neck. The collar of the long sleeved, black silk shirt is left 
open to give off a casual mood. Same as the shirt that's tucked into it, 
black silk pants hang loosely with a platinum shield belt around the waist. 
Platinum tipped boots made of some unknown black leather catch the eyes as 
they move in a steady gate. Draped over the shoulders is a black cape that 
is clasped together by a platinum emblem of House Moritani. From the mouth 
are white, pointed vampire teeth.

Shadow_Warrior
Clearing eight feet in height with inches to spare, this giant /person/ is 
shrouded in the deepest black. Only eyes of warm slate are visible through a 
tiny gap in the clothing, which is wrapped in a way that conceals every bit 
of skin that might show through. Even the size of the person inside is 
unclear; the height would suggest some form of stilt or other device is in 
use, and the shrouding is so thick that even though you might guess the 
person inside to be rather slim, you cannot tell for sure. Two ridiculously 
large swords hang at the figure's back; the traditional katana and wakizashi 
of the samurai, as it appears that this shrouded figure wishes to evoke the 
ancient and honorable warriors of legend.

Jacob
Tall. Thin but muscular. Apparently totally hairless (as far as you can 
tell). Seven feet plus of sinewy muscle, oiled to a sheen for the occasion, 
this man is clad only in a loincloth of black fur. Golden bands encircle his 
wrists and ankles and simple sandals adorn his feet. A gigantic sword rests 
in a scabbard at his belt, the handle of which could accommodate the hands 
of three normal-sized men. He stands straight and regally, walks fluidly, 
and makes for a very imposing figure.

Sen
        A youthful figure, small and lithe, untouched by the ravages of age, 
disease or malnourishment. The wiry, spring-woven person before you looks to 
be about five foot one, with a complexion which could be described as 
'peaches and cream' without the peaches. There is something immediately 
striking about her, a self-contained kind of presence setting her apart from 
others. Upon second glance, she is vaguely alien in appearance, too sexless 
and sculpted to be quite human. She rather resembles an achingly beautiful 
boy, or a large, all-too-knowing child. The strange little person's hair is 
stark white, not even blonde but rather with a tinge of silver to it, and 
cropped close to her head on the back and sides.
        Her hands are refined and expressive, with long and tapered fingers. 
It seems she speaks almost as much with her hands as with her lilting 
voice.. they are the hands of an artist. Judging from her quick, evaluating 
gaze, she appears to have an opinion about everything she sees. Whether she 
actually expresses that opinion or not, it's quite evidently there, glinting 
behind preternaturally bright green eyes. Overall, she gives an impression 
of androgynous artifice, an interloper in the natural world, but the eerie 
beauty she possesses is tempered by a lethal, unforgiving nature.
        The alabaster girl is wrapped loosely in a robe of some iridescent 
cloth, wound over her shoulders and about her slim body in a soft, 
translucent cloud of Grecian grace. Impressively, a huge pair of snow-white 
wings project from her back and arch high above her head, leading feathers 
nearly touching the floor. Amazingly, these wings seem to be alive. They 
move with her as she walks, powerful pinions twisting subtlely to help the 
little creature balance upon her bare, dainty feet.
        At her waist, hanging from a loop in her belt, she carries a 
slender, elegant sword of glistening silver, like her hair. It appears to be 
on fire, although the multicoloured flames licking from the exposed blade 
have no effect upon the androgyne, her wings, or her raiment.

Ballroom -- Revelers (Kaitain)

     The first impression upon entering this large, domed ballroom is one of 
music. Not just the melodies that waft from the low stage at the far end of 
the hall, but the room itself with its sweeping curved walls and columns, 
large floral patterns, and complementary shades of green and pink and gold, 
accented with black. Everything is designed to draw the eye toward the 
central dance floor crowded with revelers.
     Women in flowing gowns and men in formal black, or costumed in motley, 
whirl across the dance floor, parade along the colonnade, or enjoy 
refreshments on the raised patio. Almost everyone is masked and these are 
often elegant and elaborate creations of papier mache! and lace or gauze and 
glitter, feathers, beads, ribbons, gold leaves, even precious gems and seed 
pearls, as each reveler strives to out-do the next.
     Murals painted on large wall panels copy watercolor techniques with 
washes of muted shades over which are drawn black outline sketches of a lush 
garden on Caladan, a high walled pleasure palace of Gamont, the exotic green 
Pleniscenta bloom of Ecaz, and the mysterious spaceship Ampoliros. The floor 
is carpeted in royal purple surrounding the paler wood dance floor of faux 
Giedi marble in white with violet and gold veins.
     The costumes worn here are as varied and distinctive as the 
imaginations of the revelers can produce. Slaves dance with mysterious cat 
creatures. Smugglers disappear into the shadows with princesses. Paladins 
share tables with jesters and clowns. And figures in black cloaks and 
featureless white masks pass through the crowd incognito.
                    <There are places here. +places/help.>

Players:
Scaurus                                            Lucia
Varota
Exits:
Wide Marble Staircase <U> leads to Balcony -- Revelers (Kaitain)
Mirrored Door <MD> leads to Hall of Mirrors -- Revelers (Kaitain)
Lacquered Door <LL> leads to Ladies' Lounge -- Revelers (Kaitain)
Columned Door <GL> leads to Gentlemen's Lounge -- Revelers (Kaitain)

Lucia bows to Varota, "I would be inclined, thank you. And the name's Lucy."

Angelos dodders into the ballroom, looking exceptionally cheery today. 
Spotting a familiar face, he hustles towards Lucia, cane clattering mightily 
along the way. His cane whacks a large servant on the upswing, but Angelos 
is convincingly chagrined and the man looks mollified. Angie continues on 
his merry way.

"Lucy", Varota repeats, unconvinced of the formality of the nickname, "it 
is. And I think someone is looking for you," he adds, pointing his chin at 
Angelos.

The proverbial party-pooper, Scaurus enters in his dim and bleak suit, 
showing little care for costumes or otherwise. Indeed, one might be 
surprised to even see the man there, but perhaps his activities at the 
Palace for the current time are expendible, and House Corrino must always 
been seen with the Landsraad in these matters. So the Treasurer placed his 
own head on the chopping block, so to speak, and has made his way to this 
dirty little hole to watch others partake in activites which mother told him 
never to do.

Lucia's attention is drawn to the cane-wielding Admiral, and she doesn't 
bother to hide her grin as he flails innocent waiters on his way across the 
room. She bows to Angelos and greets him, "Sir, have you escaped your 
aides?"

Angelos bustles nearer to Lucia and Varota. "Ah! Lieutenant Stavros!" He 
executes a silly mock-salute, but his broad grin indicates his humor rather 
than any ill intent. Hearing Lucia's remark, he whips around suddenly, 
surprisingly agile for an old gimp, and frantically looks for his ever 
present aides. Satisfied that his has indeed ditched them for the moment, he 
sighs heavily and grins. He leans in close to Lucia, who can smell his 
sweetly whiskey-soaked breath, "Those young lads think that just because I'm 
old I need to be looked after. But I know a few tricks of my own, you know." 
He winks conspiratorially.

Lucia winks back and then gestures to Varota, "Have you met Master Varota, 
proprietor of Revelers?" To Varota she says, "Admiral Karyotis is Warmaster 
of House Atreides."

Two young Atreides-clad soldiers can be seen all the way on the other side 
of the ballroom. One attempts to calm down an enraged partier, also 
apparently a victim of the wayward cane, while the other does his best to 
locate the old Warmaster in the crowd.

Varota bows respectfully. "Lord Admiral," he says pleasantly, "be most 
welcome to Revelers."

Angelos's eyebrows shoot up like startled caterpillars. "Master Varota! It 
is a pleasure indeed." He bows, leaning heavily on his cane, and grins again 
when he is finished. "I've heard of your prowess, being a bit of a musician 
myself."

The Sardaukar protecting Scaurus never did loose him. Good lads, they are, 
keeping a close eye on the Treasurer, who has already decided to move to his 
own table (the largest of course) and order a drink. With a careful once 
over with the portable snooper, he peers into the glass curiously, wondering 
what exact concoction he's taking.

Scaurus sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Lucia glances over toward the soldiers, but it is Scaurus who claims her 
attention.

Varota shrugs a shoulder, "If you think I am of any use with a baliset, 
milord, you have been quite misinformed," he jests.

Angelos scowls good-naturedly. "And I got /this/ ..." he gestures at his 
very crippled leg ... "during a tete-a-tete with the headmaster's wife at 
the Academy." Clearly, he is also jesting.

Anakiel comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Lynx comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Ekaterina comes in from the Ladies' Lounge.

Satyavrat comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Lucia raises her eyebrows curiously, "You did? I'm...impressed, Sir."

Anakiel strides in, a sleek grey feline on his arm, not far ahead of the 
esteemed Lord Reeve. His blue-painted lips are quirked in an enigmatic 
little smile.

Varota inclines his head to Angelos, "Touche, sir," he says with a broad 
smile. "Now, if milord will pardon me?" He already has a foot towards the 
door.

Angelos nods quickly towards Varota.

Serpent comes in from the Ladies' Lounge.

Scaurus sips at the drink he's been given, some kind of wine, though he 
can't pick which. He leans back in his seat and watches the entrance with 
just a slight measure of interest. Scaurus doesn't dress up for occassions. 
There is no sense of sociality about the man, and you might even be correct 
in guessing that perhaps that suit of his is actually his skin.

Serpent enters, pausing by the entrance to gauge the other party-goers.

Looking just slightly ridiculous (but nonetheless quite pleased with 
himself) in his Paladin's garb, Satyavrat saunters in alongside the latest 
Rastanyev on Kaitain, the Lady Baroness Ekaterina. Leaning towards her for a 
moment, he asks, "Would you care for something to drink, my Lady?"

Varota makes off to approach the incoming Rastanyev party. Picking the most 
august-looking of the bunch he bows double to Satyavrat. "Milords and 
ladies," he intones, "Welcome to Revelers, I am the proprietor and most 
incorrigible Reveler. May I be of service?"

Lynx rests one hand on the arm of Anakiel, regarding the rest of the room 
brightly through the velvet of his mask.

Satyavrat returns Varota's bow with one of his own, arm shifting noisily to 
get that over-sized shield out of his way. "Ahh, Master Varota, is it not? 
Good evening to you, sir. On this occasion, I defer quite completely to 
m'Lady Stalinsky's wishes." An unobtrusive step backwards places Ekaterina 
in the center of the man's focus. Well, Lily...tell the man what you want!

Serpent grins a touch as Varota approaches the Rastanyevs, and slips further 
on in, her grey form sliding through the others easily.

The tall coppery curled woman, the baroness apparently, inclines her head 
with a slow gesture of the affirmative. "If you would be so kind, a blush 
wine would be pleasant." Her eyes are not questing far and wide, quite 
content with her immediate surroundings for the moment.

Lucia flags down a waiter and asks for a couple of large glasses of whiskey, 
one for herself and one for the Admiral. While she waits for the drinks to 
appear, she watches the influx of nobility.

Lynx gestures with one hand towards one of the tables, murmuring archly to 
Ana.

Varota quirks a brow, pivots on his heel and repeats the bow to Ekaterina, 
"Thousand pardons, Noble Born." He recovers quite well, all things 
considered, "I am Claude Emile Sebastian Varota, late of Chusuk. May I offer 
the Lady anything? Anything at all?"

Anakiel might not be noble, but you certainly couldn't tell it from his 
bearing. Every catlike step is carried out with a precision and grace that 
most people spend their entire lives learning...which perhaps he has. A 
moment is spent, stooping slightly to listen to his companion, then smiles 
and nods, stalking off to a table amidst a rustle of glistening black vinyl.

Serpent selects a corner, and plucks a flute of champagne from a passing 
server. She sips, content to watch the others for the moment.

Germina comes in from the Ladies' Lounge.

Jereth comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Lynx pads softly at Ana's side, before settling primly at one of the flimsy 
looking little tables.

Lynx sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Jereth looks around, nodding once hen notices germina walk in..

Scaurus crosses his legs, looking deeply into his glass, and so wishing it 
were spice coffee, though he assures himself to show just a tiny bit of 
social abilities. And thus he looks up...and attempts at a smile. A smile 
which, for the terribly ugly second it lasted, fades back into nothingness.

Germina joins Jereth and nods at him slightly.

She is appropriately sedate, Ekaterina is. Her genuflections are careful. 
Looking to Varota with not a single trace of chastisement her head inclines. 
"Simply a round of your blush..." Peacefully, she looks to Satyavrat, and 
questions, "You knwo the lay of the land, my lord... direct me."

"Of course!", Varota says cheerily. "Anything ze Lady requires. I believe 
the La Molle table has been cleared for Your Excellency and her entourage."

Anakiel sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Satyavrat's eyebrow quirks upwards. Blush wine...how wonderfully Rastanyev. 
"Perhaps we might ask the Master Varota if he would be so kind as to treat 
us to a proper Rastanyev anthem," he suggests with a light smile. "Something 
appropriately merry as to celebrate the birth of the Earl's children." He 
looks back to Ekaterina briefly. "And I'll expect a dance, Lady Baroness." 
With a quick nod to Varota, he indicates the direction to his escort. "To 
the La Molle table, your Ladyship."

Lucia accepts the two glasses of whiskey from the returning waiter and holds 
one out to Angelos, ordering two more of the same to be brought when these 
are gone.

Angelos graciously accepts the whiskey glass and holds it up in the air, 
clearly expecting a toast from Lucia.

Serpent watches, swaying slightly to whatever music is currently playing, 
almost unblinking in her amusement. There's a few murmured gasps as she's 
passed by some of the other revelers who have a chance to look at her 
costume...or lack thereof.

Ekaterina responds smoothly, "That is most excellent, I thank you." She says 
to Satyavrat, "What a splendid idea.. but let us sit a moment and see what 
becomes of the evening. And though I do not generally dance with men other 
than my husband..." A measured shrug. She is already moving to the site.

Ophelia comes in from the Ladies' Lounge.

Rhedek comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

In the myths of the ancients, the lynx was reputed to personify the quality 
of vigilance...but this feline blinks, just short of gawking, as he catches 
sight of the serpent. Raising one hand, he motions in her direction.

Serpent calmly uncoils herself, and strides over to the lynx. Her gleaming 
silver-grey skin glints under light, highlighting the detailed scales.

Varota greets Ophelia and her company with a deep bow from the waist. "Your 
Excellency, what an honor it is to host you this eve. Be most welcome to 
Revelers."

Anakiel notes the wave, tilts his head, then breaks into a smile. He stands, 
once more putting himself head and shoulders above most of the revelers, and 
graciously pulls out a chair for the Queen of Reptiles.

Lucia raises her glass, "To the past...may it never catch up with us." She 
grins and downs half the whiskey.

Angelos grins and mutters something about his aides never catching up 
either, and throws back the entire glass in one fell gulp. He smacks his 
lips and smiles contentedly.

Serpent drapes herself into the throne so graciously provided by Anakiel - a 
perfect spot, where she can watch all the people as they enter.

Germina passes through the door into the Ladies' Lounge.

Lucia leans in close and murmurs to Angelos, "There's someone I'd like you 
to meet."

Anakiel pushes in her chair for her a bit before once more resuming his 
seat.

        With a mighty sound the doors to the gentlemen's lounge swing open, 
guided by the thrust of a mighty foot; thusly burst into the room does a 
great tower of a man appear, beringed in gold and shaved of head.

        "All hail the Queen of Hearts! Pay ye heed and tribute, all ye pyons 
who bask before Her glory!"

        This is emitted from the djinn's mouth, a thunderclap of velveteen 
bass - and so is royalty truly announced.

Grinning, the lynx slips down from his seat to make a crouching, arch-backed 
obeisance to the serpent - like nothing so much as a cat asking to be 
petted. Next he'll be rubbing on her ankles.

Angelos's eyebrows wiggle slightly, again looking very much like large gray 
caterpillars and indicates his interest in meeting whomever Lucia has in 
mind.

Satyavrat winces visibly at the oafish declaration, but peers a bit longer 
at the announcer than would be otherwise warranted. He leans over to 
Ekaterina, whispering something to her just as their blush wine arrives in 
tall, clear glass flutes.

Serpent rolls her eyes. She does at least refrain from hissing and continues 
to sip her champagne. The lynx is stroked, absently.

Jereth looks around quietly as he grabs a glass of waterfrom passing by 
waiters..

Varota grins at the sudden crowd, feeling quite pleased with himself. 
Although his eyes are mostly occupied in drinking up the Serpent. He has the 
appearance of a man in dire need of strong drink.

Scaurus rests on one arm, sighing lightly and twirling the wine around in 
his glass. At the announcement, he gives a look and raised brow toward the 
Queen of Hearts, then returns back to his /most/ interesting wine. Oh 
look...a bug.

Lucia finishes her drink and trades it for a fresh one for herself and 
Angelos before she rests her hand on the Admiral's arm and leads him over to 
Scaurus' table.

Anakiel purses his lips a bit, managing -not- to roll his eyes. He does look 
slightly amused, however, the dark angel just sort of draping bonelessly in 
his chair.

Ekaterina raises an eyebrow at what is whispered to her, swishing the liquid 
in her fluted glass about once, twice, thrice-- she leans slightly to return 
quiet speech, vaguely amused.

Lynx gives a fleering grin as he catches sight of the Queen of Hearts, 
before licking his lips and reaching up to tap the dark angel on one thigh.

<<Lynx thinks: Mother space..she must've hired siege engineers to design 
that corset.>>

Angelos wanders curiously over, following Lucia obediently. With surprising 
deftness he manages to snatch two more drinks and down them on the way over, 
one from a waiter and one from a rather surprised patron.

Even as the Gentlemen's Lounge doors open, so does the Ladies' Lounge, 
admitting the announced Queen of Hearts. As regal as her costume, so is her 
demeanor, as she smiles and nods to those nearby who greet her. She glides 
to the djinn's side, placing her hand on his arm lightly, and glances around 
at the other costumes present.... perhaps seeking familiar eyes beneath gilt 
masks.

Conium comes in from the Ladies' Lounge.

Anakiel tilts his head momentarily, then glances down at the Lynx with a 
curious expression, head tilted to one side.

Dracula comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Dracula exits out of the lounge looking for the person he escorted in 
through the crowd.

Lucia gives the Sardaukar guard assigned to Scaurus a brief glance, then 
smiles as she bows to the Imperial Treasurer, "My Lord Count, a pleasure to 
see you again. May I present the Warmaster of House Atreides, Admiral 
Karyotis."

Ekaterina mutters to Satyavrat, "... but... way... behave,... Reeve.... 
think that... disguises truly... correspondant... and... they... to flaunt 
their lack of taste... Strange,... almost... I... not... expected..."

Serpent makes a vague gesture torwards the food, catching the Lynx's 
attention. A brow is raised - no speech needed. She slides one sleek, naked 
thigh along the other, draped in her chair as if it were a chaise instead.

Satyavrat arches an eyebrow and looks slyly back at Ekaterina over his wine 
glass, his response voiced low and laced with amusement.

Conium finds the so-called Dracula and rejoins him with smile and a nod.

Jereth passes through the doorway into the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Scaurus looks up to Lucia, eyes widening for a moment. Was that an instant 
reflex to go for his dagger, and give her a death stare? Hmmm no...he 
restrains himself, and then allows what might pass as a bit of a smile, and 
nods to the Admiral, "A pleasure, I'm sure, Admiral Karyotis. Count Charles 
Winston Scaurus, Imperial Treasurer and Mangaging Director of CHOAM."

Angelos bows extravagantly, nearly stumbling, and speaks clearly (somehow). 
"My pleasure, Count. May we join you?" He doesn't wait for an answer but 
pulls up a chair, very, very close to Scaurus.

Dracula smirks some but not a lot as he looks to her and offers his arm to. 
"What do you think?"

You sit down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Paladin mutters to Blue_Phoenix, "... nobleborns of Kaitain are... my 
Lady,... they've... but... peers... judge... Although... are... Ulricke,..."

Paladin shudders lightly as he nods towards the Serpent. Not a fan of 
snakes, lizards, or other scaly beasts is he.

Conium looks around and nods. "It's quite busy here." She smiles back at her 
escort almost happily.

Scaurus' automatic reaction is to move away a little bit, the smell of the 
whiskey on his breath reaching the Treasurer's nostrils. With an inside 
shudder, he says, "I would be glad to but...I er...would be...happy to have 
you." There. Being social isn't that hard.

Lucia hesitates before sitting down. She would have waited for the Count's 
permission, but as Angelos is already seated, she pulls out a chair.

Lynx returns to his seat, though this time he's perched on it. One hand 
reaches delicately to pluck up one of the blue grapes brought by as passing 
waitress, then proffers it to the Serpent. As he catches mention of his 
Mistress's name, he turns that half-mad smile on the Paladin, and inclines 
his head slightly.

Lucia sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Paladin's eyebrow arches suddenly. Well, it's not like he should be *that* 
surprised. He touches the fore of his helmet in a mock salute towards the 
Lynx and his table.

Serpent smirks a touch, and licks her lips delicately. It's almost shocking 
to see that her tongue isn't forked. And then she lifts her chin, opening 
her mouth to accept the grape from the Lynx's fingers. Hell, if the rest of 
the Landsraad is too stiff to be decadent in a house of revelry, /she/ will 
not disappoint.

The woman by Satyavrat bends saying at a normal volume, "The end of the 
universe Garrashu occupies is not nearly distant enough to not hear such 
over brunch, or tea." Dressed as a phoenix in blue, she sips lazily upon her 
blush.

Anakiel smiles at the Paladin, ice-blue lips framing teeth of crystalline 
white. He winks at the knight, blowing him a cold jasmine kiss to accompany 
it, before standing and stretching. "I," he informs his table in vaguely 
petulant tones, "Wish to go dance. It's much too....-frumpy- in here 
currently."

Lynx gives a decidedly imperious nod, letting his eyes half-lid lazily. 
Fingers linger on the Serpent's lips for just a moment longer than is 
proper, before he again offers a grape.

        If the Queen's escort sees any faces that he recognizes, he 
expresses no care; nor cares he to wear a mask, it seems, for the beneath 
that shaven scalp it is the very face of the Harkonnen Warmaster that grins 
between those ringed ears. The towering giant offers his lady handless arm, 
the cuff that masks the stump there gleaming brass, and awaits her touch and 
guidance toward whatever goal she's got in mind.

Dracula nods indeed. Alright, his custume isn't that amazing but it was in 
hurry to get ready. He glances at the Bene Gesserit at his side, "What would 
you like to do?"

Angelos looks curiously into his whiskey, squinting intently. He downs it, 
again throwing back the contents of his glass with alarming speed. He yawns 
loudly and turns to Scaurus, smiling softly. He looks /really/ tired.

Paladin sits back in his chair with a bemused smile pulling on his lips. He 
responds in turn, normal volume having been asserted; it's like some kind of 
game for them, clearly. "How interesting, my Lady," he responds. "Many would 
think Garrashu far too out of the way for any news at all. Though perhaps 
this particular item engenders itself for quick transport; gossip travels 
faster than any Navigator, hmmm?" He takes a somewhat un-gentlemanlike swig 
of his wine, but at least refrains from belching or slamming the glass back 
down.

Jereth comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Conium looks at Dracula and smiles. "I should like for you to choose." She 
nods thougtfully. "Certainly there must be things you would care to show 
me?"

Jereth walks back in, changed..

Varota moseys over to the small knot of people around the Serpent. There is 
a merry tinkle in his eye as he calculates his approach. With nods and warm 
smiles for his friends, he makes every effort to be visible.

Paladin sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Blue_Phoenix sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Serpent lets her eyes slide over to Varota as he approaches, and takes 
another grape from the Lynx's fingers. Let the fuddy-duddies stand around 
like puppets.

Paladin discretely straightens his back to turn back towards the Serpent's 
table; though on this occasion, the Blue Angel is given a bright smile and a 
raised glass of wine.

Anakiel, shortly on his way to the dance floor, finds Varota immediately in 
front of him. He pauses, head tilted slightly, looking down at the fellow 
with a bit of curiosity before stalking up to him."Something I could.... 
help you with," he murmurs.

Jereth walks around, looking for whom to speak to.. he notices the Queen and 
walks towards her.. obviously royalty gets treated first..

At the table, Lucia smiles as she sits down, "I was surprised to find you 
here, My Lord...after our last conversation. Pleased though."

Lynx watches Ana, earlier smile faded to the ghost ofa smirk. He continues 
to offer the grapes, happy to play body servant.

Laying her hand on the offered arm of the giant, the Queen gestures vaguely 
to the far side of the room. Beneath the edge of her mask, her red-painted 
lips curve into a delighted smile, as she murmurs to her escort, "It 
seems... the more interesting people of the party are over there. Perhaps... 
introductions are in order, hmm?"

Scaurus moves further to the edge of his chair, attempting to keep a 
composed face and not tell this man to get out of his presence. And the gaze 
of the Treasurer rests upon the serpent, blinking for a moment at the grape 
taking, and suddenly remembering what Ezhar's birthday would be all about. 
With a look to Angelos again, he reassures himself that things could be 
worse.

Jereth bows deeply.."Good evening, my fair Queen of Hearts.. I am Robin.. 
And how has the evening found such a lovely lady as yourself?"

Varota is brought up short by Anakiel. Both his brows go up as he steals one 
more glance at Serpent before replying. "I do believe I should be saying 
that to you, sir. Would you care for drink? A gentle narcotic?"

Serpent grins a touch at Varota from over Anakiel's shoulder, and goes back 
to enjoying her meal. She stretches in the chair, letting each sleek muscle 
extend languorously before coiling up again, feasting on grapes, sipping 
champagne, and watching the rest of the nobles make a mockery of the 
celebration.

Anakiel taps his chin for a moment, then ahs. "Quite. Please have a goodly 
sized bowl of frostberries delivered to my compatriot's table." He reaches 
out to brush a blue-painted nail lightly along Varota's jaw... though he 
doesn't pursue the issue should the smaller man pull away. "Yes, I think 
that should be adequate. Ah, and a glass of Surakan dark rum for myself as 
well as whatever my associates wish to drink.

Angelos's eyebrows lower, the fuzzy caterpillars seemingly giving in to 
gravity. His eyes slowly close and start open quickly, as he fights 
valiantly against the onset of sleep.

        "You shall not address the Queen in such a direct manner," rumbles 
the djinn to whom the Queen is attached. "Pay proper homage, knave! Have ye 
not been properly schooled in manners fitting for the royal court?"

Dracula nods to Conium. Things looks to be in full swing and guides Conium 
along with him. With everything how it is. Soon he finds himself near 
Scaurus. "Lord Scaurs, good to see you again."

Lucia nudges Angelos, "Sir? Shall I summon your aides?"

Jereth waves of the Djinn.."Why don't you ditch the stick in the mud and i 
get you something to drink, M'Lady?"

The phoenix lady continues to placidly sip, looking out over the sea of 
swaying bodies, though never looking any way in particular until her 
attention returns to the table. "Do you recognize other faces-- doubtless 
they are different now than I would see them in the vids."

Serpent's eyes widen slightly as she watches Jereth. Oh, goody. There might 
be blood soon. And it probably won't be the djinn's.

Varota smiles, as only a man sure of himself in his home can smile, and 
gestures for a waitress to attend Anakiel's order. "Instantly, sir. Now, if 
I may?", he makes to continue his way.

Serpent sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

        Ah, but the djin says nothing, at least for the instant - he merely 
awaits Her Highness to scatter the rabble with words of dismissal.

Conium strolls along on Dracula's arm seemingly quite happily. She continues 
to survey the room and all those that she passes with a faint amusement.

Angelos waves absently at Lucia and slowly ... slowly ... drifts off to 
sleep.

Angelos begins to teeter in his slumber and very slowly ...

... he ends up slumped against Scaurus, his head leaning lightly on the 
ancient man's shoulder. He snores loudly.

Paladin furrows his brow, raising his glass to polish off his contents...my, 
that was quick! He leans over to his companion to say something, though it's 
exact phrasing is lost in the hubub of the room.

Paladin mutters to Blue_Phoenix, "None... interesting,... the Queen... 
should... the snoring gentleman... an Atreides..."

Scaurus looks about, suddenly finding a little more comfort in his wine. As 
the old man leans on Scaurus' shoulder, the Treasurer suddenly leaps up, 
almost tripping over his own chair, with a sweat and widened eyes. Coughing, 
he looks to Lucia, "I do believe I'll find another place to be seated...." 
With eyes blinking, quite astounded by the erratic behaviour, Scaurus 
searches out another place, which hopefully will be bereft of old men 
hanging off him.

Anakiel laughs softly, shaking his head, and paces out to the dance floor, 
his glossy black train following him like the ruffling of great inky 
pinions. A bit of time is spent, drifting about in time to the music, before 
he seems to get tired of the formulaic dance. A brief dervish spin flares 
out his glittering train in a midnight-hued arc, scattering dancers out 
beyond the reach of his arms.

Winding to a stop, he offers the disgruntled dancers a brilliant smile and a 
perhaps somewhat mocking bow, before twisting fluidly into a dance of his 
own. On one hand...it's blatantly obvious it's no dance ever learned in the 
hallowed halls of nobility. On the other, it's veritable poetry, if of a 
potentially rather bawdy variety. It's almost as though the towering blonde 
hasn't a bone in his body, yet the muscular control to keep his seven-foot 
frame in constant fluid motion regardless of the whispers of the music.

Laughter rises from the la Molle table, the phoenix's sweet alto melting in 
the air with controlled mirth. She bends, coppery curls shifting with a bob, 
and whispers again.

Serpent chuckles lowly at Scaurus' discomfort, and then she looks to observe 
Anakiel's dancing with delight.

Though her hand tightens on the arm of the djinn at her side, the Queen of 
Hearts looks first from her escort to the man in tights in front of her. And 
with a wicked grin, she leans towards the man in tights and lays a rather 
risque kiss full on his lips, patting his cheek as she steps back from him 
again. "Perhaps later, young knave. I'll come find ye, perhaps.. if my genie 
doesn't grant all my wishes..."

Angelos also leaps to his feet, clearly startled by the motion of his 
pillow, looks around wildly, and shrugs. Sleep wins out once again, and he 
sits back down, face against the table, and passes out once more. Many foes 
has he vanquished, but this soldier cannot resist the siren's call of 
Morphius.

Scaurus stands and leaves the table.

Argent whiskers nearly brushing the Serpent's hair, the lynx whispers in her 
ear for a moment, like a familiar instructing his witch. As she nods 
permission, he slips away from her and pads in the direction of Lucia.

Lucia shrugs, "Sorry 'bout that, Count...." She stands and bows to Scaurus, 
then flags down another waiter. As the Lynx approaches her, she smiles.

The the Atreides Admiral passing out on Scaurus must have caused him to not 
notice Count Dracula. Turning to the lady at his side he shrugs. "Care for 
anything, my lady?"

Lynx offers a hand to the Atreides, as if to draw her close.

        "All my wishes are for you, my Queen," the towering spirit of fire 
and air rumbles, squinting a bit perhaps at the kiss laid upon the mouth of 
the impetuous man - ah, but those who serve have not the luxury of protest, 
do they?

Lucia rests her hand in his and allows herself to be drawn in.

Blue_Phoenix sits down her half-filled glass on the table with a glassy 
clink. "I did so promise, therefore I will. No doubt the experience will 
give you fodder with which to scald the ears of others with." She rises 
easily, and presents her hand.

Varota makes his round of the Le Vavasseui table, inclining his head to 
whisper to the Serpent.

Shadow_Warrior comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Lynx jerks his head at the table he just left, murmuring softly.

Scaurus decides not to sit, but rather to stand off at one side, watching 
the dance-floor. When at Ezhar's party, do as Ezhar would do, so the old 
Emperor used to say. Obviously he never considered men such as Scaurus in 
his little parties, though he does take a deep breath and remind himself of 
the saying once more, attempting somewhat to psyche himself into things.

Paladin's eyebrow arches once more in sheer appreciation. Here is a woman to 
shame the Iron Maiden Ivanova herself. "I speak only truth, my Lady. When it 
suits my liege." With that, his sword is set upon his chair and the Lady 
Ekaterina is led onto the dancefloor; apparently, he intends to dance with 
shield on arm.

Jereth beams brightly and bos..."As you wish, My Queen.."

Shadow_Warrior enters so stealthily that you suspect no sounds would be made 
even were this room utterly quiet. He is flanked by two much smaller men, 
dressed similarly. He scans the room, expression unreadable through all that 
cloth.

Jereth finds a corner of the room to recess to for now..

Paladin stands and leaves the table.

Blue_Phoenix stands and leaves the table.

Paladin walks out onto the dance floor.

Serpent smiles a touch, her reply to Varota's whisper spoken at normal 
volume. Though she does not raise her voice, it nonetheless hangs in the 
air. "Temptation welcomes all who would seek it; though it be unfortunate 
that there are few who celebrate this day here and now, in this place, who 
are appropriately honoring it."

Blue_Phoenix walks out onto the dance floor.

Anakiel continues to dance blithely on, although movement on the dance floor 
has ground to a halt in a ring about the whirling blonde. The choice of 
ballad currently playing is a long one, yet the dark angel shows no signs of 
tiring or even slowing, his graceful movements alternating lewd and coyly 
flirting by turns, as though he was singlehandedly attempting to seduce the 
revelers around him without benefit of the spoken word.

Lucia glances at the Admiral, but decides he'll be all right where he is, at 
least until his aides find him and make him go home again. She smiles at the 
Lynx and nods.

Paladin mutters to Blue_Phoenix, "... we dance around... my... him?"

Varota laughs a soundless laugh at the Serpent, his eyebrows dancing. "It 
took only a man and a woman to invent sin."

Angelos, snoring loudly, is apparently drooling slightly on the table.

Lucia stands and leaves the table.

Lynx motions back towards his table, already turning one heel to return.

Conium continues gazing about the room, eager to meet many of the people 
within, despite the masks and such. She grins up at Marco as she continues 
along on his arm, and tugs a bit on him, as she leans over and whispers 
something to him about finding a drink.

Serpent smiles. "Yes," she purrs. "Imagine how lovely it would have been if 
it had been more then one of -both-." Her eyes dance.

Blue_Phoenix is led, walking at a pace of leisure with the Paladin. "Yes. I 
had heard of that as well... other things as well, of you. A friend was most 
kind in obliging me." She bends then to whisper something, that is lost.

"As well they should be," the Queen responds to the djinn, still grinning. 
"And right now... I wish for a glass of wine. What vintages do they have, I 
wonder?"

Shadow_Warrior signals for his two companions to mingle, and they quickly 
weave their way through the crowd. He himself (at least, it moves like a he) 
accepts a drink from a waiter, bringing it deep into the cowl of his outfit. 
When it leaves the shelter of the cowl it is half-empty.

Varota doesn't miss a beat. "Quantity is a waste without quality. And much 
sin can be bourne of only two sinners."

Lucia follows Lynx to the other table, where she bows to the Serpent but 
doesn't interrupt the conversation.

Serpent drawls, "Indeed. With suitable time, space and..." she lets her eyes 
glide up the dark minstrel's body, "imagination." Her eyes then slide toward 
Lucia. "Ah." she remarks, and waits patiently.

Shadow_Warrior seems to be devouring the room with his eyes, which glint 
slightly from the darkness of his cowl. For now, he waits.

Lynx remains patiently silent, head slightly bowed.

Anakiel eventually does wind down as the song draws to a close, folding 
himself inside his glistening wings momentarily, before uncoiling and 
offering a sweet smile to the mostly still-gawking crowd on the dance floor. 
He seems almost to have a prance in his step as he departs the dancefloor, 
though it could just be the tall heels on his boots making him sashay more 
than usual. Or....well, no, it's probably on purpose. He's swaying in a most 
coy fashion as he returns to his table, lightly flushed from his exertion 
but little more.

Lucia says, "My Lady, please allow me to compliment you on your choice of 
costume."

        "I shall bring my Queen a tray of vintages, by your leave." Already 
the djinn's gray eyes flick across the ballroom expanse, picking out masked 
revelers aplenty - feeling some great degree of pride to operate here 
without such veils. Ah, does he hate them. Masked faces, masked bodies - ah, 
but what is this? Though he be dangerously near the event horizon of 
whatever singularity hides in the Queen's depthful cleavage his attention is 
strayed by the queen of serpents, who cares not to mask her body near at 
all; certainly there is a flash of lascivious appreciation for that most 
wicked and beautiful creature, but his duty to his Queen is far too fresh 
and newly-mint.

Dracula nods to Conium as she whispers to him. "That would be nice." His 
dark blue eyes wonder looking at all the costumes. Noticing the serpent his 
eyes go wide suddenly and the Count blinks. With his head he motions to the 
Serpent and whispers to Conium.

Serpent preens. "Thank you." she says. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Though 
I hear you have thought of late perhaps, to handle a more avid snake then 
myself."

Varota narrows his eyes, seeminly intrigued at where this exchange may lead.

Lucia adopts an innocent expression, "I cannot imagine what Your Ladyship 
means."

Scaurus places the now empty wine glass on one of the tables, and leans 
against one of the columns in the ball room, content, it seems, to watch 
from a little distance the workings of debauchery. Can he socialise? He 
probably wishes so at times, but it isn't exactly as if the man is the most 
attractive fish in the sea.

The phoenix in blue waits the measure, and then lightly executes the ladies 
part for the bransles. It is relatively simple, to start in genuflection to 
partner and follow upon the tether of a hand in graceful, almost planetray 
revolution. She smiles, and says to her dancing partner, "Are there such 
nights here, often?"

Serpent simply smiles. "Perhaps you don't, and then the more fool thee. Bear 
in mind, sweet Atreides, that sometimes, the prettiest of snakes are often 
the ones that serve the sharpest bite." her expression smoothes. "Ware 
yourself of these pretty snakes, I implore you."

Paladin's smile, having faded a bit since the Lady's last comment, 
re-asserts itself. "Many," he says in agreement, stepping lively to the 
music. "Although not all are so...colorful." He takes advantage of a 
half-turn to lean a bit closer to the Phoenix, making a low comment.

The Queen nods her assent to the djinn's announced departure, also looking 
about at the other revelers and their merry-making. She spots the tall 
warrior, her eyes narrowing behind her mask as she puzzles over his possible 
identity.

Paladin mutters to Blue_Phoenix, "My... her 'friends.'... my... the 
subject?"

Jereth walks up to Scaurus, himself without an escort as well.. "Good 
ecening M'Lord.. I belteve we met the other night? After the last Court 
session?"

Conium leans back over toward Dracula and nods. "If you wish, m'Lord." She 
smiles at him, seeming willing to please in whatever way she can.

Anakiel plucks one of the pale frostberries out of the bowl on the table and 
nibbles on it with delicacy...luminescent green eyes searching the crowd 
with some fair interest.

Lucia allows her gaze to wander over the mostly exposed body of the Serpent 
and smiles, "Some of us prefer a little danger in our love-making, My Lady."

Ekaterina rotates on the leaned revolution passing under the Paladins arm. 
On the count, she changes directions. Difficult not to become dizzy-- 
gratefully though, the next part of the dance calls for both hands to form 
arcs with their arms over top, and ideal slowness of pace for talk. Her lips 
move, but to all but the closest, her words are swallowed.

Scaurus suddenly looks up from his dazed position, his eyes in the direction 
of the Serpent. What?! He /is/ a man after all? Surprise surprise. With a 
quick movement, he turns to Jereth and nods, "Indeed, we did, how are you 
Master Crane?"

Lynx narrows his eyes, as he notes Luc's roaming eyes.

Dracula guides Conium along as he takes a glass of wine in hand. The 
atmosphere seems to have done him good. He looks more relaxed now and 
possibly not as cold. The Count nears the Serpent and nods respectful, "I 
must say, that your outfit is quite...unusual." He swallow wondering how 
this can even be legal to be out on the street.

Jereth nods.."Fine.. seem to be faring about as well as you with this whole 
debauchery though..."

Serpent takes this opportunity to uncoil herself, stretching her body 
languidly. Scales ripple and gleam, muscles slope under flesh. "That may be 
true...but sometimes a savage bite can be one of most bitter poison." 
Unblinking eyes lift to Lucia. "Take your chances as they come."

Anakiel plucks another berry from the bowl, contemplates it, then eyes the 
Lynx sidelong...the fruit is waggled at him in a distinctly seductive 
fashion.... ah, Harks. At least -they- can enjoy a party.

Scaurus mmm's lightly, nodding several times, his mind clearly elsewhere, 
"Sociality is not my particular forte, though I suppose you could have 
surmised that yourself."

Shadow_Warrior's companions near him again and he mutters something to them. 
They begin to tug on his wrappings, and his costume, apparently held on by 
rather delicate closures, begins to fall away from him. He steps down from a 
pair of low stilts and reveals himself ... his new costume is much less 
mysterious.

Lynx glides over to the angel, and bends just a little to accept the offered 
fruit.

Paladin laughs lowly as he continues to dance with the Phoenix, slowly 
pacing across the floor in the jokingly solemn nature of the dance. He seems 
to be enjoying himself quite thoroughly.

<<Paladin thinks: Great Mother, take me in my sleep.>>

Jereth raises an eyebrow as he hears something ovwe his communicator...

One of the samurai attendants gathers up the discarded black fabric and 
rushes it out of the room.

Paladin mutters to Blue_Phoenix, "... We... the same... we not?... the... 
of... twins, for..."

Varota keeps his gaze at eye-level, determined to avoid unseemly staring at 
the object of his attention, now that she's on her feet. Of course, he 
fails.

Jacob strides purposefully towards the Queen of Hearts, his disguise 
discarded
and pretenses dropped.

Lucia bows, though she never lowers her eyes, "I always do, My Lady...I 
always do." She smiles as she straightens and appears to be on the verge of 
saying something more, but she changes her mind and merely waits to be 
dismissed or addressed once again.

        And off he goes, charged with providing his Queen with leisure; 
passing a slave with a serving-tray he snatches it from the woman's hands. 
Ah, and here we are - his broad hand open and balancing the tray he begins 
to wander along the tables, bidding guests give up their glasses to set upon 
the silver plane.

        Vintage after vintage does he collect, white and reds and every 
shade in between the spectrum that possesses such liquid intoxicants; and 
eventuallly, he comes to the place where the Serpent languishes in her 
perfect, wicked beauty. Come close, he sees that body, remembers its grace 
from many hours witnessed in the practice halls. The machinery of that form 
is well-known to him though he has never seen it quite so baldly. And with 
this recognition fresh in mind the big man genuflects before the sinful 
lass, smiling as a eunuch might, and lowers the tray before her.

        "O sinuous, lithe, and lucious maid," the djinn rumbles thickly, 
"May I have the glass that you balance in your fingers? My Queen, she has 
need of differing vintages, you see, and yours is the last of the variety 
which I have made my target."

Anakiel feeds the berry deftly to his kitten, meanwhile allowing his other 
hand to run lazily down the outside of his leg. No...it's not 
fondling....quite. Perhaps a good thing the Lynx isn't as scantily clad as 
the serpent. Or...well, on the other hand, perhaps it's a pity he's not.

Angelos awakes with a start but quickly fades back into his dream-filled 
reverie, snoring happily.

Serpent remains reclining in fact, and says simply, "You may call on me, if 
you choose." to Lucia. And that's clearly a dismissal, before her eyes 
alight on the djinn. She extends the glass to him and says, "Now bear in 
mind I expect it either returned and refilled, or a new one brought." She 
smiles lowly at him, a sudden wicked glint, a premonition of promise, and 
then finally her eyes stray again to Varota.

The feline leans into the caress, blatantly, as he punctures the berry with 
sharp teeth. He sinks again to crouch, half-kneeling, between the Serpent 
and the angel.

Jereth looks around, drinking from a glass that he thought was water.. he 
grimaces, usually staying away from alcohol.. but drinks it anyways, so as 
not to be rude..

(to be continued in part 2)
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