Fantasy Cinders and Ashes (Completed)

[Ezri]

"Well, congratulations." Vivian said, slipping back into the polite cordiality she would have with any adult stranger. 'A proper thing to do'-- she wouldn't have imagined Rowan concerning himself with things like that, but clearly that was not the case. Perhaps it was simply a socially advantageous marriage, then-- somehow that was even more baffling than if he had actually fallen in love with someone. Still, that was hardly any of her business, and she had enough problems with her own affairs to dwell too much on his life choices now.

Much more worrying was the complete avoidance of the topic of the demons. Was it frowned upon to discuss it, or were people simply choosing to pretend it wasn't an issue? Neither theory was an appealing one... perhaps Bruno would know, but she could hardly bring up the topic out of the blue with Rowan now.

"Oh no, I would hate to impose." she said; it might not be what Rowan wanted to hear, but until she got a more solid grasp of her new circumstances she couldn't afford to put herself in such a risky position. "But I would love to meet Francesca, of course. Perhaps I could join the two of you."

 

[ArcticFox]

He snorts a little but agrees in good grace. "Concerned to be seen alone with me? I thought we care less about such things than many others. But I'm sure Francesca will be delighted to see you as well."

It is settled, then.

Tonight, you re-enter society.

--

The Assembly is something you could not avoid, even if you wished to. But, in this case, it is wiser not to attempt to avoid it. You may find allies who can help you there - the world runs on connections, and this seems to be even more obvious in Cinders. Perhaps you would be able to find someone willing to speak about the whole demon ordeal openly.

The low peal of a bell rings out. Seven. Time to make your mark on society.

Your entrance, on Rowan's left arm - his spouse, Francesca, flanking him on the right - is beyond reproach. Francesca is pretty and quietly elegant, with kind, dark eyes and an air of mild-mannered amiability. She seems genuinely pleased to see you and lends a thorough respectability to your little party.

You gain a modicum of attention from the spectators lounging around the doors - no less, no more.

"What do you think?" Rowan asks. "Lady Eugenie has made a number of improvements." You had attended a couple of balls, of course, before you went to school, and you haven't been back since.

- Answer.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian couldn’t say that she cared much for high society in general— it was a lot of work focusing on mostly vapid pursuits in an attempt to keep up an image, especially with people like Jocasta around who were eager to destroy a reputation at any given opportunity. But no one could deny its advantages. Being well-regarded was a good way to get what you wanted, and if Vivian had to play that game then so be it. She didn’t think she was bad at it, regardless.

Still, she’d much rather be spending her time on something more productive. She nodded at Rowan, taking in the glimmering sights of the lavish ballroom and everyone in it. “It’s beautiful, as expected.”

Her eyes flicked to Francesca; if it was just her and Rowan she might feel a little less guarded, but as nice as his wife seemed to be she wasn’t sure what would be acceptable to say in her company. “It’s been so long, I can’t quite recall what it was like before... at least, it’s as lively as ever.”

 

[ArcticFox]

The old smoky bog-lanterns are gone, replaced with new stark, brilliant magelights, and the walls are hung with cultivated linden and ashwood - an extravagance.

You notice a striking young man standing near the dance floor. At the moment, he is surrounded by suitors and appears to be enjoying himself - yet, from time to time, you notice a sad expression come over his face.

Rowan notices your gaze. "That is Danaer Grufford," he says with a smirk. "What do you think? His family has shot to the highest level of the gentry just this Season. His cousin is an upstart philosopher - he founded some sort of club for idlers with intellectual ambitions. The father still has some trade connections with the city. An odd family."

- Comment on Danaer.
- Ask about the philosophy club.
- You are not interested in either.

 

[Ezri]

Danaer Grufford’s background matched his aura well; it was no wonder he was being hounded by so many people tonight. Vivian could only guess what was those glimpses of melancholy, but he must be under a lot of pressure.

“I see...” Vivian said and then hummed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts on the subject. It might not a bad idea to speak to Mr. Grufford, but right now there were matters much more pressing than simple socialization. If she wanted to find people interested in challenging or even discussing their new societal bounds, a bunch of upstart philosophers might not be a bad group to consider. “I wonder what the club is like? What a strange idea.”

 

[ArcticFox]

Rowan makes a sound that, in a less cultivated person, would be described as a snort. "They read great works, I believe, and argue a great deal. Oh, and occupy all of Grufford's cellars, and the town library, for excessive lengths of time. I would not trouble myself about it, if I were you."

Rowan gazes at you for a moment longer, and it's difficult to ascertain what he's thinking. "Shall I introduce you?"

There is only so much time in an evening, only so many people one can speak to. It is wise to choose carefully, for it is impossible to do everything at an event such as this.

Do you wish to speak to Danaer?

- Yes.
- No.
- Maybe later.

 

[Ezri]

Rowan definitely did not make the club sound appealing, but Vivian had her suspicions that he wouldn’t be interested regardless of the club’s actual quality. Maybe she was simply projecting too much of his childhood meatheadedness onto him now, but... well, she should take his suggestions with a grain of salt.

Vivian glanced at Danaer again, frowning a little at the group of conversation partners he’d already amassed. It would be wise to make a good impression, but suddenly butting in might win her more attention than she was prepared for. “Perhaps when he’s a little less preoccupied. It looks like he has his hands full for the moment.”

 

[ArcticFox]

Rowan leans in, with another target in mind. "Over there is, by far, the most eligible young man among all the gentry, introduced into society last season. A relation of Lady Eugenie, a Wakeforth, and, by all accounts, heir to that great estate."

You faintly recall hearing something of this before - even back in the city, the Wakeforth name is a prominent one and to have a Wakeforth youngster out is news indeed.

You look in the direction of Rowan's nod and see a gawky, slight young man with reddish hair standing firmly at the wall, arms clasped, clearly intent upon attracting as little attention as possible. Yet, however Alcindor tries to avoid attention, there is something about him that catches the light, all that shyness an attempt to hide a very bright spark within.

The light seeps out, when Alcindor thinks no one is looking - it's visible in a certain sharpness in the eyes, that betrays great intelligence and a keen observant nature. Yet, whenever anyone is nearby, the shoulders relax again into a slouch, the posture becomes demure and deliberately uninteresting: do not look at me.

- Approach Danaer.
- Approach Alcindor.
- Dance with Rowan.
- Try the gambling tables.
- Try some refreshments.

 

[Ezri]

“That’s an impressive pedigree.” She said, eyebrows raised skeptically towards Rowan. Alcindor did not appear to aspire to that description— by all accounts he looked almost intentionally uninteresting. Was he simply not interested in this sort of social event, or could there be more to his behavior? She would feel a little bad thrusting conversation onto someone who clearly didn’t want it, but she couldn’t deny that she was curious.

She looked back to Rowan, still studying his expression. He did seem eager to introduce her to some prominent people, and it would be rude for her to completely rebuff his attempts at generosity. “Perhaps I should say hello, then?”

 

[ArcticFox]

Rowan introduces you to Alcindor without a shred of mercy, correct to the most minuscule details. Alcindor smiles graciously and you sense a kind, quiet, artistic person behind the well turned-out social veneer.

Rowan is called off to some other corner of the room, and you have the chance to speak to Alcindor privately, as much so as is ever possible at these sorts of events.

"I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Price."

Alcindor is rather wan, and, although well-mannered, slightly graceless in his bearing, but with an artlessness that is entirely charming. You exchange pleasantries about the evening, the gathering, and Prosper itself, until Alcindor stirs the conversation toward your experience in the city.

"I have heard about the great museums and art collections, but I have never seen them." There's a longing look on his face. "Do you like art, Miss Price?"

- Answer.

 

[Ezri]

The conversation went smoothly, and while it was as light and shallow as any first impression would be it was a more pleasant talk than Vivian had hoped for. It was a little refreshing to meet someone who was a little out of line with the expected etiquette, even if it was unintentionally so.

Still, it was a shame Alcindor was stuck here, assuming he had to abide by the same rules she did. Although even if he didn’t, his familial expectations might prevent him from leaving anyway...

“I do enjoy art, although I confess I’m not well versed in it.” She said, tapping her chin. “But the museums were undeniably inspiring. If you ever visit them, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

 

[ArcticFox]

"They are unparalleled, I've heard," Alcindor exclaims, evidently forgetting to pretend to be uninteresting. His gestures become free, his voice impassioned. "They even have the words of Mefiso in the city. There are very few other old masters who can paint the light in such a way. It is a beauty that goes beyond the merely technical and that reaches something transcendent."

It's as if you're talking to a different person. Gone is the slightly stiff, proper Wakeforth scion - now, Alcindor's narrow face comes alive, and his manner grows animated, as Alcindor describes Mefiso's works in impassioned tones. When he realises that he kept talking for a while, Alcindor blushes.

"I am afraid I have talked over-long about it," he says. "Not everyone cares for such subjects at-" he gestures "-a lively gathering such as this."

- Make small talk.
- Flirt.
- Ask if he paints.
- Ask something else.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian had to stifle a laugh-- Alcindor's facade had been transparent enough already, and then he dropped it completely at the slightest provocation. It was charming, although perhaps a little worrying. There were people who wouldn’t be as forgiving of that clumsiness as she was.

"Oh no, I don't mind. I’ve been enjoying our talk, really." she said, waving her hand. It was as good a conversation topic as any as far as she was concerned, especially when the thing she was most interested in discussing was probably not suited for public discourse. In fact, as one-sided as it was, listening to Alcindor had really taken her mind off of her worries, at least for a short while. “Do you paint at all yourself?”

 

[ArcticFox]

His blush intensifies. "Yes, a little." Alcindor looks down, betraying himself. Likely more than a little. "I'd love to show them to you, some time..." Alcindor seems pleased, though the veil of shyness again descends.

A quadrille starts, and someone comes to claim Alcindor's hand for the dance.

"It was very nice to make your acquaintance," Alcindor says mournfully, as he is being dragged away.

If the young people of Cinders can all be found in the dancing room, the refreshments room seems to be where the more stately and advanced members of the gentry collect.

On one side of the room, there is a spread of coffees, teas, lemonades, and watered wine, as well as iced cakes and slim sandwiches. Rowan does not even pause to take the measure of the room, but goes straight for the honeyed, watered wine.

There is a distinguished-looking dark-skinned gentleman in military dress standing nearby. His bearing is impeccable, and he watches the room with an eagle eye. He seems familiar. After a moment, it hits you.

Colonel Ayax. His hair is tinged with grey, but you would recognise that martial bearing and upright manner anywhere. His was one of the original founding families of Cinders - he now serves as town Magistrate. If anyone knows about the legal and moral issues of the situation, it is he. Your guardian sat on the Town Council with him, you recall. Ayax knew your guardian well, and, no doubt, was a frequent caller

An elderly lady in a gown decorated with molded roses approaches, holding forth to a crowd of followers.

Lady Eugenie, you guess. She is the Wakeforth matriarch, another Council member, and a formidable force in Society. She knows everything about the families in Cinders, and devotes herself a great deal to the town's upkeep. Her word is near law when it comes to conventions and social norms, and her friendship can aid a person considerably. She is also Alcindor's great-aunt.

Both Colonel Ayax and Lady Eugenie are eminent members of the gentry, well-situated and respectable, and, what's more, highly influential. If you can get one of them on your side, perhaps you will be able to get some answers, or help, while you are stuck in Cinders.

- Talk to Colonel Ayax.
- Talk to Lady Eugenie.
- Don't talk to either.

 

[Ezri]

Alcindor was swept away in a flash, and Vivian was left to find some refreshments and take a breather before she dove back into the fray of calculated socialization. Looking around, she seemed to have found herself in some intimidating company—

The colonel! Of course, he should know what was happening in Cinders. He should know better than anyone. After that realization she found it difficult to think of anything other than this chance at some actual knowledge. Her legs had started toward him before she realized she was moving at all.

Unlike Rowan, however, even in her excitement she could show some self restraint. When she addressed Colonel Ayax he should see nothing more telling than a small light behind her eyes. If she was doing a good job, anyway. “Excuse me, Colonel Ayax?”

 

[ArcticFox]

You were introduced to the Colonel when you were a child, so it isn't too improper to pay your respects. He turns toward you when you call out.

"Miss Price. An honour."

A little silence falls before Ayax expresses his condolences for the loss of your guardian.

- Talk about your guardian.
- Talk about Cinders.
- Talk about the contracts.

 

[Ezri]

The Colonel was an imposing man, and if he and her guardian hadn't known each other then it would be much more difficult to approach him so directly. But even though they weren't well acquainted personally, they had enough of a connection that her introduction didn't feel unnatural. Still, she should try to be respectful of someone with his social standing...

"Thank you. I wish that I had been able to attend the funeral..." It was still a fact that caused her a little guilt, and she paused before continuing. "I realize that I've been away for a while, but Cinders has... changed quite a bit since I was last here."

 

[ArcticFox]

He nods and seems gratified. "Yes, there have been a number of changes. There was a flood in the old Library. Many things needed to be moved, but we were able to reconstruct, afterwards. The result is quite acceptable. We have a duty to protect our public spaces," the Colonel says simply, and that is that.

A long silence falls between you. Colonel Ayax is so reserved that one couldn't help but wonder if he goes into Society simply in order to observe the room.

The evening draws on.

- Speak with Danaer.
- Dance with Rowan.
- Check out the gambling tables.

 

[Ezri]

If he had any inclination to discuss the matter of the demons with her, he didn't seem to want to do it right now. There was no way he was ignorant of it, after all, and she doubted he thought she was speaking about the reconstructed library. But it was good to have spoken to him, even if she didn't get anywhere right now.

But more than anything, their discussion confirmed that looking into the matter at this party was probably not prudent. In that case, she might as well enjoy herself as much as she was able. Gambling wasn't normally her vice of choice, but she'd grown a little tired of the small talk and a little game sounded unusually appealing.

 

[ArcticFox]

The gaming room is elegantly laid out, but the air inside is taut with tension. The card games here could take a life.

A red-faced gentleman, in rather dishevelled dress, is there, already sitting at the table, staring belligerently at his opponent. He looks, at once, imperious and also thoroughly sauced.

His opponent sighs and gets up, leaving several spina on the table. "Mr. Edevane," he says politely, and quits the room with great haste.

The red-faced man - Edevane, apparently - grumbles and takes the spina on the table. If you play, this will be your opponent. And your stakes. Can you afford to wager your spina which could mean your life?

The sharp-eyed woman dealing scrutinises you. "Have you come to play, or to gawk?"

- Play recklessly.
- Play cautiously.
- Cheat to win.
- Observe your opponent.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian had to try very hard to keep her jaw from dropping. All of this time she assumed that spina was kept sort of an unspoken fear, but here people were winning and losing it without any pretense. Until now she had never considered the possibility, but the temptation to easily gain more spina was understandable...

‘Gawk’ was a tempting answer to the dealer’s question— it would not be wise at all to risk her humanity on a card game. She didn’t know how easy it was to lose spina yet through other means, and the difference between five and six of them could be disasterous. And was it ethical, really, to take spina from someone else..?

Regardless, this Everdine didn’t seem like a pushover. If she was going to play, against her better judgement, she should watch him and see if she couldn’t come up with a strategy.

 

[ArcticFox]

Before you can settle and play, there's a commotion at the far end of the hall. A distinct, yet undefinable, quality of air is streaming into the room, and it makes your nostrils sting. It's not exactly sulphur, nor is it iron, nor is it camphor, but a sort of memory of those scents, along with something else bitter and pungent.

A rending sound like the scraping of metal on bone makes the hair on your neck stand on end.

Someone - stumbling down from the games room - has just lost all their spina, it would appear. A pale circle is blossoming around the unfortunate gentleman, and a chill not wholly natural descends.

Two of the Fallen have appeared, grey and vague around the edges, waxen-faced. They have grasped the gentleman by the hands and are apparently ushering him into the centre of the summon-circle. All other noise ceases, instantly, for a period of about thirty seconds, as the other gentry ascertain what has occurred.

Then, conversations resume - backs are turned. This, if anything, feels more sinister than the dread silence of before.

The thralls are doing their work, pushing the person into the circle, but the person resists.

Then, another breath of air. A slice of shadow appears in the summon-circle, a demon, horned and elegantly turned out in a sweeping frock coat of feathers, appears, as if walking from a long way away.

Soon, this person will be a thrall like the other Fallen, grey-faced and placid, an echo of the living. You've never seen a Fall before - the people have been refusing to even talk about demons, but here it is now, and there is no escaping.

- Grab the victim's arm so he is not carried away.
- Try to console him.
- Offer the demon your spina in exchange.

 

[Ezri]

Watching the room turn their backs on the tragedy before them was bone chilling. Everyone in this room knew what they were doing by gambling their spina, and they were well aware of the consequences of doing so, and yet when those consequences became reality they chose to turn a blind eye. Somehow it felt more horrible than if they spoke about it outright. Combined with the smell, Vivian felt her stomach twist into knots.

But she couldn't ignore it. She doubted she could stop it just by grabbing him-- if it were that easy, the city wouldn't be in this state. But she had to do something. As much as the idea frightened her, maybe an equal exchange would solve it.

"T-take mine instead." she offered, approaching the demon with a firm gaze. Now that she'd said it it was too late to go back, and her hesitation gave way to bold defiance. "A spina-- take mine instead."

 

[ArcticFox]

The demon grows still and looks from the spina to your face. He doesn't hold out his hand. There is a strange light in his eyes.

"Now, what would I be doing with that?" he says carefully. His voice is like broken glass, making you wince. There is a curious look in his eyes as he regards you with a scrutiny that would make anyone uncomfortable.

After a moment, the demon chuckles, a scratchy, discomfiting sound. "My dear lady, if it were that simple, the bargain would have been broken long ago. Your concern does you credit, however," he says, seemingly more at ease. "But I fear that - alas - it can do nothing for this person. Fear not, they come to no harm under our guidance. Some might say they exist in a state of bliss. There are many persons who would long to live in this state, I dare say."

The colour has finished ebbing from the unfortunate person's face and they are now almost indistinguishable from the other Fallen.

Two sharp pangs, thornlike, prick your left wrist, sharp enough to draw blood as the spina you'd offered disappear into thin air.

"Moreover - ah," the demon says in a regretful tone. There is no need to say more. What you have done was against the rules that bound everyone. "Let that be a warning," the demon says, and now he grins, maliciously. "And allow me to offer my felicitations on your return home."

The demon bows with a monumental flourish. When his hand reaches the end of the figure, a loud crack rings out. The rending sound pierces the air, opening a tear in the world, the splinter of darkness from which he came. Then the demon takes hold of his new thrall and marches back down that yawning passage until you can only see the bright gleam of his garments and the air around him, until that, too, is extinguished.

The thralls wipe away the summon-circle and then fold themselves into the remnant of that shadow, until they are gone. Now, nothing remains to indicate that anything out of the ordinary occurred, save the shocked faces directly around you.

After another stunned moment, the musicians begin to play again. The other guests smooth the distress from their faces with unsettling speed - a few disheartened dancers move to the floor, but a veil has fallen on the festivities. The reminder of your delicate position is sobering, and not a few people depart soon afterwards.

Rowan finds you quickly. "Are you alright?" he asks, looking concerned. "Francisca would like to go, so we are leaving the festivities."

- Go with them.
- Go alone.
- Find the people you spoke with to say goodbye.
- Gamble.

 

[Ezri]

Speaking to the demon was even more daunting than Vivian had thought it would be-- just listening to him speak felt viscerally wrong, like a voice in the back of her mind was pleading with her to stop and leave. It was good at least that he wasn't angry, but it was little comfort when she couldn't help the Fallen and lost a spina anyway. She grit her teeth but didn't say anything more, stoically trying to bear the pinprick feeling on her wrist.

Her exact mistake was still a mystery-- was it because she tried to interfere, or was it just because she acknowledged the demon at all? It seemed so pointless, to rule over people with the expectation that they ignore you completely. But this might not be something she could apply logic to.

She blinked at Rowan's suggestion, but it did appear that no matter how much they wished they didn't notice, everyone was painfully aware of what had occurred. Did he notice what she'd done, or did she just look rattled in general? Regardless, she didn't want to draw any more attention to her actions than she already had. "Right. All right, then we should go."