Fantasy The Order of Seven - closed for now

[SilverFlight]

The Order of Seven

Lore & Overview
Characters
Shadow Archives
​

Queen Victoria sits on England’s throne; the Prussian empire is strong and France is embroiled in political turmoil. The industrial age creeps up upon the unsuspecting, pushed forward by opportunists and those who barely understand the power they are beginning to command. Poverty is rife, as is the golden spectacular that is the aristocracy. This is a world of smoke, steam and electricity, of new machines and old traditions but most importantly, it is a world of change.

Strange happenings have always occurred: unexplained things, mysterious things. A set of hauntings, a string of murders, a series of disappearances. Not many pay them much mind…except a select few. There are some who can read the messages written in blood, or ghostly tales or the footprints of the unseen, some who can feel the waking of ancient slumbering things or sense a disturbance on the ethereal planes. Trouble is brewing, trouble of a supernatural character.

There is a single organization that is tasked with controlling these phenomena, to protect the unknowing and quell the angry thrashes of the unknown. These are the ghost hunters, the vampire slayers and demon killers. Those of mankind who delve into the darkness, and some who are even of the darkness themselves…

With the growing unease among the members of this group it was unanimously decided to create a task force, one that would investigate the elevated levels of supernatural events, silence the most harmful and track their source. The best and the brightest were called from all around the world to join forces and put a stop to the writhing evil that is beginning to wake.

Chapter One

​

It had just finished raining. The night air was still as mist collected in the alleyways and narrow corridors of Montmartre. The winding highstreet was streaked with the gold of flickering street lamps and here and there, artists and vendours packed up their easels and wares and headed home.

Not all was quiet: from several windows, laughter mingled with golden light and together they poured out into the dark quiet, a defiance to the cool peace brought by the late storm. People in fine clothes, drank wine and talked on balconies. Inside, the soft sound of instruments and a sultry voice, signing to them, a patriotic song celebrating their liberation and the bloody end of a tyrannical monarchy. This, to the nobles here, was seen as “keeping their heads down” and there were several such salons alight with revelry, but only one held interest for The Order...


There had been a murder, an inventor and automaton maker who had recently created one of the most exquisite mechanical wonders of the century was found dead in his workshop in the Quartier Latin in Paris. Though a murder in itself was hardly reason for their involvement, there were several strange occurrences that alerted the leaders enough to take notice; the perfect case for a budding team.

The wonder in question, was due to perform its miraculous feat in a salon here in Montmartre and it was in this salon that the members were asked to meet.


Thaddeus leaned over the railing of a terrace, looking down on the rest of Paris from his vantage point half-way up the hill. Le Oiseaux Rare had an open balcony right onto the street, a set of elegant steps leading from that to a gilded interior hall.

The scent of the night was heady, the rain bringing the subtlest aromas to his enhanced nose: coffee, wine and sugar from the parlour down the street, the smell of wet copper and stone from rooftops, smoke from a pipe lit a block away. Thaddeus tried to lose himself in those scents, because everything else about the city, seemed to remind him of…’Bastien.

He stood and stretched, shaking off the stubborn pain. They were to meet in the hall, and Thaddeus could already see people collecting there. Blue velvet curtains hung in the doorway, shielding the treasures that were tucked away within. He made his way to the entrance.


The entrance hall was spacious, mirrored walls making it moreso. Along those walls, in lit glass cases were a rare collection of tiny automatons: Beetles, birds and little dogs, open for the viewers to wind and watch. They were an excellent diversion, Thaddeus loved seeing how they worked, a jumbled collection or cams and cogs made to resemble life. It was extraordinary.

He had not met most of the members coming today, but he had memorized their names and descriptions from the dossier which was handed to them all. He bent to examine a small copper rabbit, wound to eat a head of peridot-studded lettuce, it’s gears whirring and clicking as the little creature repeated it’s pattern, never once deviating.

Epiphany Naberius Cashi MechanicalSnake BELIAL. laceanddoodles Dominaiscna idalie ADarkAndStormyNight Bone2pick

 

[laceanddoodles]

Giselle​

A salon in Paris on a rainy evening. It was so seductively normal that Giselle was on the verge of genuinely enjoying herself. She’d struck up a conversation with a couple of men who’d recognized her from some ball, last spring— it was lovely. Still, she was well aware that she was here for a purpose, and as she glanced around, she spotted a face she recognized from the dossier.

“Pardon me, Monsieurs,” she said, and ducked elegantly out of the conversation.

Giselle was a lithe little slip of a girl, with warm brown eyes and vibrant red hair. She was dressed for the occasion in a simple evening gown of sky blue silk. There was practically no ornament to it, save tastefully places rosettes of the same fabric. In its simplicity lay its beauty— the marvel of a well constructed dress, the intrinsic elegance of perfect craftsmanship. In motion, she and the gown were fluid and graceful, and it seemed to glow in the low gas light. She wove through the crowd towards— she believed his name was Thaddeus, if her memory served —with a pleasant smile dancing across her face.

Giselle was loathe to admit it, but Order functions were often quite frightening and quite draining, for her. She felt akin to Sisyphus— trying to prove her worth and earn forgiveness for The Incident and come across as competent and an equal to all these incredibly intelligent and powerful individuals felt to be an unending and impossible task. Still— she was one of only two locals on this team, which meant she had a clearly defined task. Make people feel welcomed, guide them through the city and help to make it all feel a bit less foreign. She could do that, at the very least.

She approached Thaddeus and her little smile blossomed into a grin.

“Monsieur Thaddeus, no?” She extended one slender, gloved, hand to him. “I am Lady Giselle Laurent, it is a great pleasure to finally meet you.”

Around them, mechanical creatures ticked and whirred. The murder weighed on her mind, along with the strange and mysterious goings on. It was all Giselle could do to pray that she would prove useful. In six months as a proper member of the Order, she had yet to be allowed to do anything real. She was fresh out of her training, and as she looked up at the man in front of her, she hoped against hope that her terror wasn’t evident on her face.

“Is this your first time in Paris?”

——
Mentions: SilverFlight

 

[SilverFlight]

Thaddeus' attention was drawn from the rabbit by the voice of a young woman calling his name. He turned and blinked before managing a small bow at the waist.
He held his green felt top hat in both hands, thumbing the brim as he spoke.
"Lady Laurent, c'est à moi le plaisir." He spoke softly, and his English accent muddled the words a bit, but it was understandable at least.
"It is indeed, likely for a few members. I'm afraid we'll be relying on your guidance quite a bit for this task. I apologize for the imposition."
He turned partially, to give her view of what had held his attention: the little mechanical rabbit.
"Do you like them?" He asked, doing his best to start a conversation.
laceanddoodles

((I will allow multiple posts out of round, but they should be short, conversation posts like this, for long posts and story-based posts I'd like most people to have had a turn first. keep it reasonable, if a convo goes beyond about 10 posts, consider moving it to Shadow Archives))

 

[ADarkAndStormyNight]

Joseph
​

Joseph sat at a desk, reading and re-reading each dossier by candlelight. Thaddeus, Gabriel, Clementine... In his mind, he felt like he needed to get this all right. It was frightfully nervous, to say the least. Of course, Joseph had hunted quite a few beasts in his time- that wasn't the problem. But this mission felt like his first REAL mission- his first one without someone helping him out.

As he was studying the small slips of paper, he heard a knock on his door. There was only one person that could be.

"Come in, Marquis," Joseph said, hiding the dossiers away. The silver-haired Frenchman slipped into the room, and stood by the door.

"I ordered you a stagecoach. Are you ready?" he asked, in his thick, accented English. Joseph could (technically) speak French, but he often preferred the conversation be his native tongue. "If things go south, I'm not going to be there to bail you out of it... Do you understand?" he added. Great, Joseph thought, glad to be reminded that I AM going to mess up.

"I'll be fine, Marquis," Joseph said, and stood up, blowing out his candle, and slipping the dossiers into his small trunk. "The coach is outside?" The Marquis nodded. Joseph went to leave, and the Marquis turned to him.

"I promised them that you wouldn't mess up. Don't make an ass out of me."


The stagecoach ride was long and boring. Despite living in France, which Joseph always amalgamated into one big city, the inn Joseph and the Maruis were staying in (to avoid any suspicion) was far from the bustling city of Paris. Joseph reviewed the dossier a few times, to make sure he got everything right. Werewolf, Demon, Faerie. He was especially shaken on that second one. Demon. Werewolves were human half the time anyways, and Faeries pretty much just do their own thing, but Demons? He didn't like the look of that.

The stagecoach barreled down the street marked on the map- Montmarte. I'm here. He stopped the driver. "I can take the rest from here," he said, and hopped out of the coach. He was still a little early- I guess my readiness got me thirty minutes ahead of schedule. He went to the nearest bakery with a light on, bought himself nice loaf of bread, and then walked towards the assigned meetup.

Inside, there were an assortment of mechanical animals, possessed to do a repetitive series of one or two tasks, over and over again, in some sort of absurdist nightmare.

"These things creep the hell outta me," he said, almost instinctively. When he looked up to find that there were two others in the room (Giselle and Thaddeus [Werewolf] as his dossier knowledge taught him), he realized he probably just left an awful impression.

"I mean, Hi, the name's Joseph," he said, grinned, and reached out his hand. Ok, that's still not good, but it's better.

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[laceanddoodles]

Giselle​

“There is no imposition— not at all. It's always nice to feel needed, and I do hope that all of you come to love my dear city as much as I do!" Her brown eyes sparkled as she said this, and she opened a fan that had been hanging by a string around her wrist, fluttering it lightly. All she had to do was tell herself that she was playing hostess-- that this wasn't too different from any salon or soiree she'd put on. There was no need to fear. Besides-- most of the team was English. It was amusing to consider that there would be less open hostility from Englishmen than from her fellow French, but it was true. Emotions ran high in the Parisian chapter, regarding the events of That Night. Some people pitied her, a lot of people blamed her. It would be nice to spend time with people who were a bit more removed from it all.

She gazed down at the little rabbit, tilting her head slightly to the right.

"The artistry is incredible," she said. "It's so delicate." For a moment, she fell quiet, just watching the rhythmic and repetitive movements of the tiny rabbit, before another voice cut through the room. A distinctly American accent. She turned, looking up at Joseph and laughing breathily. She liked Americans, they never even tried to hide what they were thinking. You always knew where you stood with them, and in the few times they'd interacted, he'd always been pleasant with her. There was very little trace of blame or resentment, and he had seen the bodies that night.

"Monsieur Joseph! What a pleasure it is to see you again. It has been an awfully long time. Have you been acquainted with Monsieur Thaddeus?" She did not take the extended hand, assuming it was for Thaddeus. Instead, she merely fanned herself a little more, making sure to position it so as not to hide her face.

----
Mentions: SilverFlight ADarkAndStormyNight

 

[ADarkAndStormyNight]

Seeing as no one yet shook his hand, Joseph just let it merge into a bow directed at Giselle. "Madame Giselle," he said in his best professional voice, "the pleasure's all mine." He heard someone say that in a movie once. "Please excuse my lack of initial pleasantries. I'm quite exhausted from the ride." That was, in fact, a lie. He just didn't like to make a fool of himself around everyone. He hadn't really talked to Giselle too much, because more often than not he was by the watchful side of the Monsieur, but it was good to see a familiar face.

"I don't believe I have-" Joseph said, turning to Thaddeus. "How are you doing, man?" And there's the unprofessionalism again, rearing it's ugly head. Damn. Joseph decided to reach his hand out again- that's what he was supposed to do, right?
________________________________________________________________
SilverFlight laceanddoodles

 

[SilverFlight]

Thaddeus took the proffered hand and shook it gently. The casual ease with which Joseph spoke made him relax just a little.
"Thaddeus Grey, at your service. I am quite well actually, and, creepy as they may be," he let slip that he had overheard the offhand comment, a gentle reminder that werewolf ears were keen even in human form. "I find them quite fascinating."
He pointed to the rabbit. "See here? The spring loaded mechanism turns the gears there, which then move those cams, that in turn move the head and ears independently. Can you imagine the precision you would need to make pieces so small?"
The little rabbit glimmered in the lamplight as it's movement slowed and then stopped. Thaddeus picked it up carefully and offered it out for anyone to take and wind again. The little key was made to be it's tail.
laceanddoodles ADarkAndStormyNight

 

[laceanddoodles]

Giselle​

"It is, indeed, a tiny marvel. And the stone setting, the quality of the filagree? Very impressive." She glanced between the two men, then around the hall. "Shall I fetch a waiter to bring either of you a glass of champagne? Personally, I know I'd love one." She picked up the little rabbit absentmindedly, winding the key and holding it on the flat of her palm, watching it tick and whir into motion. "And I don't mean to presume, Thaddeus, but if by chance this would be your first champagne in the city..." Her little smile was playful and inviting. So far, this was going far better than she had feared. She'd always meant to get to know Joseph better-- she found his American ways to be charming, even if they did catch her by surprise. And Thaddeus seemed lovely, if rather British.

----
Mentions: SilverFlight ADarkAndStormyNight

 

[SilverFlight]

Thaddeus looked a little nervous when offered champagne. "Oh, no, thank you for the kind offer Lady Laurent, but...I don't drink."
Anything that loosened inhibitions was a bad idea for a werewolf, and even though the moon that night was shrouded, he could still feel its dangerous pull. If he was being truthful it still frightened him, even after so many years of perfect control.
"I'm afraid you will find me a rather boring attache this evening."
laceanddoodles

 

[Dominaiscna]

Collaboration post: Krishna Cashi and Lilith Dominaiscna

Lilith walked with an open umbrella clutched in one hand, and her skirts in the other. Though it had long stopped raining, the glimmering sheen of water on cobblestone ground was enough to make her nervous. However, she tried her best to keep this unease from showing in her face. In an attempt to ease her nerves, she turned to her fellow vampire, Krishna. The two had come from the Order's Parisian headquarters and had made the long travel together to the assigned meeting place.
"Mr Jameson," she uttered softly, offering the vampire a sweet smile. Her gaze flitted across the view of the street in front of them before landing on companion. "If I may ask, how are you adjusting to your new form, with training and whatnot?" After a pause, she added gently, "Though I understand if this is a subject you would rather not talk about."

Krishna ducked his head to avoid being speared by the umbrella's edge as he stepped carefully over a puddle in the dipped cobblestones. The night was cool and gentle, the wind rife with petrichor and the imperceptible tang of smoke and liquor.
He followed close to Lilith but kept a few inches of space between them, just enough that they could both comfortably traverse to the building ahead.
"I've had few years to adjust to the nightmare." The words were out before he could stop them, and he winced slightly, wishing he could take them back. He stumbled over an attempted recovery.
"That is, never in my wildest...dreams had I envisioned myself so..." He fought for words again. "Changed."
Krishna took a moment to steal himself against his nerves, the wind the only sound between them for a few heartbeats--or lack thereof.
He forced a small laugh, then "training went well. I finally got the upper hand on Thérèse. She is frighteningly adept with those daggers of hers." Krishna glanced up to the building ahead.
"I'm afraid I'll have to rely on you for distinguishing any other....Tainted at the gathering, however." He murmured, trying his best to hide any lack of confidence in his voice.

"I shall do my best," Lilith replied lightly, throwing a glance in Krishna's direction. "If I am not mistaken, aside from the humans, there will be a fae, a werewolf and a demon joining us. Quite the mixed bunch, aren't we?"
Her gaze flickered over his face before returning to their surroundings. She could sense his pain and bitterness, and it reminded her greatly of her own, only much, much more. Though she was tempted to continue on the subject, it was not the time nor place for such a conversation.
However, after a moment of silence, she turned to him, offering a reassuring smile. "Few wish this fate upon themselves, Mr Jameson," Lilith said in a soft voice. "It certainly does not seem so at this moment, but things do get better. I can promise as much."

Krishna watched his feet pass over another puddle, the low gaslight reflecting orange in the brackish water. He removed a glove to inspect a pink crescent scar on his hand, a perfect semi-circle to fit a jaw of sharp teeth. The similar scars on his neck and shoulder seemed to ache in tandem. He slid his glove back on, then slowly met Lilith's gaze through lowered lashes. His tentative smile was somber as he said, "your words are a boon unto my s-soul, Ms. Beaumont." He'd almost said 'damned' soul, but quickly remembered she, too, was a vampire working for The Order. The last thing he wanted to do was slight her.
She looked well put together this evening, as she always did, with her dark hair pulled away from her gently freckled face. Hers was the only familiar visage in his company since England, and despite the foreboding sense he had for tonight, he decided it was nice to have someone he knew to walk into it with.
All too swiftly, yet after what seemed an eternity, the awning for the meeting locale loomed around them. His nerves swelled again and it took no small effort to quell them into submission. He was used to formal gatherings of people, having attended many such meetings with Nathaniel on business deals. His companion in those meetings, however, had never been a vampire.
And he hadn't been one himself.
Krishna motioned for Lilith to pass him the umbrella, then offered his arm for her to take, idly unbuttoning his coat to reveal the dove-grey suit beneath.

He pressed a hand to the door, turning to Lilith one last time.
"I'll follow your lead. Shall we?" Then he pressed the door open and guided her inside.

 

[laceanddoodles]

Giselle
​

"Oh, nonsense, nonsense! You are quite charming already, I could not imagine being bored by you. Or anyone of our number, for that matter. We all have such interesting stories to tell." She set the little rabbit down on its pedestal, and slid her free hand into the crook of Thaddeus' elbow.

"And you, Joseph? Would you like a glass?" She smiled warmly, and her eyes darted towards the door, noticing two newcomers, both recognizable from the dossier. Splendid. The last of her fear was melting away, and she was becoming more comfortable and confident by the second.

Mentions: SilverFlight ADarkAndStormyNight Cashi Dominaiscna

 

[ADarkAndStormyNight]

Joseph
​

As much as Joseph wanted to just appreciate the handiwork of the animatronic, the sheer amount of effort and precision it required, he was still put off by the monotonous movement of the machine. It was disturbingly hypnotizing. Back, forth, back, forth. Each gear had a purpose, each spring was sprung. For a second, Joseph was back in the factory where he spent a good deal of his youth. His hands were strained, his skin was dry and burnt. He smelt the gas, the oil, the blood. The filth.

Joseph hated the factory. He was driven away from the hideous image in his mind by a soft, French voice. What's she talking about? He heard Thaddeus say something about not drinking- oh! She must have offered to get us some drinks, probably champagne, seeing as they were in France. Giselle was still obviously acting as hostess.

"I, for one, am parched- I'd love a glass." Joseph figured that's a better response than the good old American I want to get fucked up. He smiled at her his best smile. "If it isn't too much trouble," he added, just in case he didn't presume the question properly. "I'm sure we have time until everyone starts arriving."

It was around this time that a pair, man and woman, entered the room- they were shockingly beautiful. Inhumanly beautiful. This was, of course, because they weren't human, a fact Joseph knew from the dossier. The two were vampires, and while the sight of one nearly shot a shudder down his back, he managed to stay calm, and flash them a smile.

"Joseph!" he blurted out, losing his sense of control. Crap, you're not doing well. Maybe you need that glass more than you thought. "Is my name, nice to meet you," he said, covering. He recognized them as Lilith and Krishna... who the hell names their child Lilith? That's setting yourself up for disappointment there.

______________________________________________________________________________________
laceanddoodles Cashi Dominaiscna

 

[Cashi]

Krishna blinked rapidly three times, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness of the salon he stepped over the threshold into, keeping a delicate grip on Lilith's hand against his arm.
His gaze took in the small crowd gathered first with inhuman speed; then it noted the mechanical devices, then the three distinguished individuals not 5 paces away. The decorations around the room were--wait, mechanical devices?
Krishna's focus narrowed on the little clockwork rabbit in the one man's palm, then moved on to some of the other animatronics.
Amazing.
Nathaniel would have loved this.
He shied away from the thought like one might shy away from a too-hot stove. Instead, he returned his attention to the handsome man before him whose hand was thrust in the direction he and Lilith arrived from.
Joseph...
He had no idea who these people were, and cast a wary glance at Lilith, watching her reactions for any insight.
Hesistantly, he reached out a cold hand and carefully, oh so carefully, gave it a quick pump.
His voice was too quiet as he dropped his gaze and said, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Joseph. My name is Krishna Jameson."

ADarkAndStormyNight Dominaiscna laceanddoodles SilverFlight

 

[idalie]

Clémentine d'Avignon​

Clémentine could barely contain herself when the French chapter had announced she would be working in tandem with an international team. She barely had the time to read through the dossiers and neither the attention span, although their names were a jumble of memory and their potential abilities a mystery. Guillaume had frequently told her that such scatterbrained thoughts were a death wish, deploring her lack of organisation which now, since his passing, had devolved into leaving crumbs between expensive library volumes and folding maps along the method of mistaken origami. It would be no surprise if one day exhumed, that Uncle Guille would’ve rolled himself eleven feet deep with a scowl.

Between her excitement for the new team, cousin Margaret had come to stay with her own letters of invitation to join their growing group of weird and wonderful Musketeers - of whom she was sure there were more than three and yet still decided it was of best description.

The family home was alive with fêting and fussing, something which took one's mind off the dreary and subdued nature of the brick and mortar who felt Guilleaume’s passing as deeply as Clem did. Or so the dreamy girl in her wanted to believe, for it was a little comfort to own in a world which had shown itself to be as vast as it was fickle. She had not covered his portrait however, peering down beneath a sheen of oil paint as his eyes flickered in unspoken intelligence and wit. They followed you from room to room and in the shadow of evening candlelight, you may have mistaken his lips to be smiling. A guardian and master of his hearth even in death.

Preparing to leave for the salon in Montmartre, Margaret had helped lace up Clémentine and in exchange, they had swooped and curled their hair into low buns and ringlets. Between the sincerity of the night ahead and the murder of that poor inventor - it was as if they had regressed into girls again. Giggling and preening before evening fell, still, Maggie would pause and for those seconds of silence and indecision, a melancholy would wrinkle her brow.

Coming to the part wherein they had arrived without incident, Clémentine had parted briefly from Margaret as she wandered between the exhibitions of automatons. Her favourite so far had been a small dog with it’s wagging tail and toothy grin, each clicking a cause for the cogs to tick him along. A few discussions with some other wanderers and she at last, came to pause by the group she briefly recognised. Theodore, wasn’t it? And the redhead, Isabel? Oh, who had time to wonder what they were called!

Approaching with a little run in her step, surreptitiously trying to stop her dress from taking her out at ankle level - Clémentine brushed any loose hair from her forehead and beamed.

“Hello, hello! I’m not too late I hope,” Her accent somewhat garbling the English whilst she glanced between them, “You are the… fellows? I am to meet?” Clem threw herself into the fray with a forgetful tone, inclining her head. “Mm, you’ll have to excuse me for being so late! This place is wonderful to lose yourself in, non? So full of lively little creatures, you’d think it was real from afar.”

“I would say I’ve heard so much about all of you! But I’m admittedly a bad reader.” She laughed, the type which sounded neither ladylike nor elegant but charmingly overjoyed.

SilverFlight laceanddoodles Dominaiscna Cashi BELIAL. ADarkAndStormyNight

 

[Dominaiscna]

Lilith Beaumont
As soon as they had entered into the space of the Salon, Lilith's eyes flicked across the new scene that lay before them. Her gaze very quickly hopped from one person to the other, first Thaddeus, then Giselle, and finally Joseph, all of whom were recognizable from the dossier. Her eyes narrowed slightly in deep interest, similarly to how a predator watches its prey.

Instinctively, the corners of her lips pulled up in a gentle, sweet smile.

Her attention was drawn to Krishna, when she felt him shift beside her. The man seemed very nervous, and Lilith gave his arm a little squeeze of encouragement before turning back to Joseph.
Her mouth opened in response, but she was cut short by the entrance of Clementine. The young lady seemed rather scatterbrained, but nevertheless very endearing.

"You need not worry, Miss d'Avignon. It seems you are right on time," she said, with a light laugh before gesturing to herself and Krishna.

"I am Lilith Beaumont," she continued before turning to look at her fellow vampire, "and my dear companion here is Mr. Krishna Jameson. It is lovely to make your acquaintance."

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[BELIAL.]

Margaret Bowles

Location	Salon Event - away from main group
Company	No-one currently
Tags	idalie

Of all the outcomes that could have been, Margaret was at least pleased to know she'd not be in Paris alone. She'd been with the Order for a year and a half now, the training only recently cemented in her mind, but the idea of traveling Paris alone somehow made the woman tense up. She'd slain her fair share of bumps in the night since then, just barely coming out with a scrap of sanity, but leaving London made her chest clench. Perhaps it was that London was her safe place, as well as her hell. Being away from her daughter, as well, made Margaret hesitate. She cherished Norah. Her daughter was the remnants of a fractured marriage, and what was once good in the world. Norah represented good. To Margaret, this was the bare minimum of motivation she needed to wake up every single day. Maybe God would forgive her for all the tragedy she'd dragged along with her if she managed to right a few wrongs; banish the occasional demon or two back to hell.

Paris was a memory, and a new chapter to Margaret. Staying with her cousin was the wisest choice, and the most comfortable for her. Plus, it gave them more time to catch up. It was less than half a year ago that they'd been brought together for their Uncle's funeral, but to Margaret it was a lifetime between. Where London was droll and grey, Paris was... life. La vie culturelle, to put it in an agreeable language. More than enough times the city overwhelmed her, but she'd managed to swallow her panic and carry on. Clem was wonderful company was well, doing a good job of twinkling away in French to distract Margaret.

Being back at the grand home that Uncle Guillaume and Clem had lived in certainly brought a few emotions to Maggie. The last time she had been there was the funeral, but she hadn't been in the headspace to truly appreciate--and remember-- the place. The energy within the home had been particularly strong shortly after Guillaume's passing, and only worsened Maggie's headaches. At least, six months later, his presence had faded a bit. Though still strong, and she knew this by the way her eye would always catch his portrait's, it was livable. She could breathe, and focus, for once.

It would be needed.

But being back into the swing of things, and even bustling to get ready for the evening's salon, brought a sense of normalcy to Margaret. Maggie'd never been one for being particularly done up-- she wore her corset tight and her skirts rather plainly. Back home, she barely remembered to make herself presentable most mornings. A mess of hair, bundled up into a bun, and a few buttons loose at the neck was Maggie's usual. Here, with Clem, at least there was a sense of girlish sensibilities that she hadn't been able to absorb in... decades. Maybe when she'd been there that winter in their youth, she had felt the most like a normal girl. The house was bustling then, alive with the energy of their eccentric Uncle and Clémentine's own sweetness. Now, she remained at least. But Maggie found the halls a little more empty than she'd like, and the shadows a lot more darker.

There was nothing to it, perhaps just her headaches setting in, but she remained vigilant where her cousin could not.

She took delight in helping her younger cousin prepare for the evening. A proper salon was something that Margaret hadn't attended in a long, long time. Far before Nathaniel's passing, or disappearance. The idea of it made her stomach turn, and she found herself getting lost in those shadows when Clémentine was pulling Maggie's hair into delicate shapes. A quick prod from the blonde and all was well again, Maggie's smile turning her face from blanche to pink in mere seconds. She'd had to borrow one of Clémentine's gowns, Maggie not being one for having dresses that would fit the air of France. It was a beautiful, cotton and silk piece. The underskirt was shy, to Margaret's relief, and did not bloat her as much as she was sure the other french ladies would look like. It was a dark, but vibrant red that stood out against the pink of Maggie's cheeks and lips (with enough prodding to her already gaunt complexion). The bodice dipped low, a tuft of cleavage barely visible, but the sleek bend of her tiny waist gave some amount of weight to the barely there decolletage. Kid gloves, a slip of jewelry around her neck and ears, and a small fan and bag confirmed that Maggie was ready to go. The two women made haste to their carriage, quickly walking to match the speed of their conversation.

It was nice, for Maggie, to feel young again.

Arriving at the salon, she wasn't surprised that Clémentine made way for some shiny exhibit piece. Maggie could only flap her mouth like a fish, fuming a bit at being left to her own devices for the time being. Although she was sure that Clem was simply making polite with their other task force members, as Maggie could remember from the images, she still felt slighted. As well, she wasn't sure how big that group was going to get. The idea of having to smile, and make polite, made her stomach turn. Flapping her fan to hide her sneer, she shook her head and tried to distract herself with the little creation behind the glass.

It seemed that there were a plethora of mechanical animals, all operating to mimic their usual habits. Margaret was aware that these belonged to the deceased inventor, who had been working on a variety of wonders. What she wondered was why he had focused on animals so much-- there were other things, truly an accolade to his abilities-- but a fascination on the animal form. Was he simply intrigued with the motion of nature, or trying to replicate it?

Tilting her head over her shoulder, looking back at Clem with the others, she distinctly could feel the press of a force on the back of her neck. The feeling of death, but not death itself, was managing to wiggle its way into Maggie's brain. Like a needle, albeit a dull one, she could decipher that the vampires that were in their task force were within that group over there. Doing another look, she confirmed her own suspicions to see their faces. More the reason to stay away, until needed most.

They'd read about her anyway, just as she'd read about them. What was the purpose of mingling?

She let a low sigh exit her throat, moving her gaze back to the glass.

But they were fascinating machines.

 

[MechanicalSnake]

GABRIEL ​

Montmartre, despite being a Paris neighborhood, still had a unique village atmosphère. Cobblestoned narrow and winding streets, quaint houses, vineyards, lovely windmills, romantic alleyways and long stairways, excellent restaurants, quiet squares. At the same time, the place had a more posh yet bohemian feel than any village possibly could, populated mostly by artists who either had too much to spend, or didn‘t care about their pockets being empty. Gabriel strode through its streets confidently, even though he did have to stop and consult the map every now and then. His hotel room was conveniently close, which meant he could take a little walk before heading to the event. It wasn‘t the best room one could wish for, but it would suffice, and if (when) he got drunk, he would be able to get to his bed without having to call for a carriage or risking he‘d get robbed and wake up on the pavement.

He had never been to France before; his family consisted solely of hateful nationalists and „frogeaters“ was the nicest word anyone in the household has ever used for a French person. They would never have taken the children to Paris, the cradle of sin. As an adult, he somehow couldn‘t find the time to travel much – university, the projects he‘d have hated to abandon and his friends were constantly keeping him busy. But now he was here, hoping they wouldn‘t wrap up the case too soon, so that he could explore this wonderful place. It felt more like a vacation than anything else; even the rain different greatly from the constant drizzle in London. In Paris, instead of clouding the streets in fog, it made them glisten with a myriad of brilliant colors. And Frech people, from what he could see, had a great taste for fashion, more daring than the Britons. Perhaps he could wear bolder things here than the black suit with an embroidered vest he had chosen for the first meeting with his new colleagues?

And Gabriel‘s already unusually elevated mood got even better when he arrived at the location and entered the world of tiny automatons, the very embodiment of scientific heaven. „Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,“ he dropped cheerfully, automatically making a beeline for the tray with champagne glasses first thing. Fully aware that it would have been more polite to socialize first, inspect the machines later, he decided to – once again - ignore good manners and headed straight for the closest items on display. What lovely creations, carefully displayed in a way that made them have the greatest possible effect, their shine and constant movement enhanced by the glass cases and mirrors on the walls. He picked up a random beetle, while sipping the fizzy alcohol, and briefly inspected its details.

An unpleasant feeling squeezed his stomach for a moment as he held the automaton in his palm, buzzing and whirring. A sensation akin to envy – such a grand exhibition with all these works by a previously unknown creator! A clockmaker who had no name in their field. How did he manage to pull this off? Who were his sponsors? How on Earth did he rise out of obscurity so fast? But soon he calmed down, reminding himself that those things hardly mattered anymore, because the man in question was dead, while Gabriel was still here and, frankly, his inventions were superior to these shiny toys, however pretty.

He put the beetle back and moved along, to larger models. One attracted him specifically; a mechanical owl quite similar to his own creation from years back, now tucked away in the suitcase he‘d left in his hotel room. It made cute little clicking noises as it hopped on its perch, turned its head and blinked its large eyes, inlaid with what looked like sapphires or their exact replicas. A little belatedly, Gabriel noticed he wasn‘t observing the automaton alone; a women stood there, more absentminded than interested, as though pondering about the philosophical side of the animal. Dressed for a funeral, or maybe it was her serious expression. He‘d seen har face before, perhaps in the dossier, or even back in London, once or twice. They‘d never worked together, but…

„Mrs Bowles?“ he tried, pleased to see something akin to confirmation in her eyes. „If I am not mistaken, we shall be working together on this case. My name is Gabriel Gladstone.“ Casually, he emptied his glass and set it aside so that he could pick up the owl and inspect it more closely. „Do you like them?“ he asked, not waiting for the answer before adding his two coins. „Excellent craftmanship, I must say. Lots of attention to details, expensive materials. One can see he was a clockmaker, how tiny all these gears are! But still, I would have expected more… purpose. All these machines are but toys, with no practical use other than to entertain, riddled with performing repetitive tasks. If you create a bird, why not make it capable of carrying messages or attacking an enemy from the air? Protecting your house from a break in? That would be a real invention, not a mere trinket.“

 

[BELIAL.]

Margaret Bowles

Location	Salon Event - away from main group
Company	Gabriel
Tags	MechanicalSnake

The owl stared with deep-set eyes, and although a faint glow reflected over the pupils from the interior lighting, it remained dull in shine. Hardly a real thing, but as marvelous and intricate as a live specimen.

"Mrs. Bowles," someone said, perking Maggie's attention. She looked slowly over, blinking in surprise, and sized up her newfound companion. Immediately she placed the face to the name: Gabriel Gladstone. She'd heard much of him throughout her years in the London circles, she'd never quite had the true luxury. Moreso, she'd never had the ill-fated luxury of meeting his father; who she had heard was a difficult character indeed. She gave a polite smile, dipping into a light curtsy.

"A pleasure, Mr. Gladstone. Though I'm afraid it's Miss Bowles, as of late," Maggie said, gritting her teeth through the smile. It had been a year and a half, and she expected herself to be emotionally removed from Nathaniel's death, and the whole mess of it, but nevertheless it lingered like a case of poison oak. She itched the memories like crazy, trying to subvert them to claw marks and blisters of the past... but they remained as painful as ever. Gabriel was lucky she wasn't in any lower spirits, or she'd have been a little less put together on the correction. It was hard to be a woman going into her thirties, and now unmarried. Granted, a widow, but alone in the world.

"Do you like them?“ He asked, Margaret tilting her head to the man. She watched as he extracted the owl from its place, digging her gloved fingers into her wrist at the prospect that he could easily drop it at any second. 'That's why exhibits are for looking, Mr. Gladstone.' But she'd read up on him, and his own interest in crafting similar trinkets and oddities. "Excellent craftmanship, I must say. Lots of attention to details, expensive materials. One can see he was a clockmaker, how tiny all these gears are! But still, I would have expected more… purpose. All these machines are but toys, with no practical use other than to entertain, riddled with performing repetitive tasks. If you create a bird, why not make it capable of carrying messages or attacking an enemy from the air? Protecting your house from a break in? That would be a real invention, not a mere trinket.“

Maggie nodded, running her tongue over her bottom teeth in thought. "I see your point, Mr. Gladstone. Where is inventing without innovation, no doubt," she said, though with her gloved hand she pointed to the little owl. "And yet, one cannot help but marvel over the technique. Repetitive, perhaps, but maybe each a piece of the puzzle to something greater. But we cannot make leaps without individual steps first, lest we burn ourselves over the flames of knowledge." Maggie mused, looking to meet Gabriel's eyes. Her gaze was calculated, analyzing, and perhaps more interrogative than her words were.

She pulled back, entranced by her own thought process. "The notion itself is captivating. We go too far with what we create, and it may end up turning itself on the very creators. Perhaps our late inventor meant to keep these things small, and innocent." She was deadset on the prospect that he had been working on something great, perhaps far greater than he could imagine himself. Maybe it was what got him killed. Maybe it killed him.

"How do you find Paris, Mr. Gladstone?"

 

[Epiphany]

Paris made Bryony feel a touch nostalgic for London.

London as it'd been, at least. Even a few decades ago, it'd been twice the population of this city. And now, it'd doubled again. Every bit of lingering charm in the great city had been crushed under the unrelenting tide of unchecked reproduction. The small gardens extinguished, the soot of factory fires competing with the feculence of the River Thames to foul the lungs. Naturally, Bryony hadn't actually seen much of the human populace of London beyond the privileged environs she'd enjoyed these past twenty three years. Nonetheless, merely crossing the city boundary had brought a weight down upon her shoulders, binding her inside her skin more tightly than any corset had ever done.

Paris was the nicest city of its size she'd come across, by the feel of the land alone.

Bryony carried an umbrella on the crook of her arm but naturally didn't need it. Unlike the poor fools she saw on the streets, she'd had the good sense to hire a carriage. A proper carriage, of course, not one of those horse-drawn omnibus where perfect strangers endured the discomfort of conversation without a proper introduction. Arriving outside of the appointed salon, the blonde fairy waited patiently for the driver to see to her door and open her umbrella for her, before descending the steps to alight on the damp paving stones below.

At least the destination suited her sensibilities. Blue curtains providing a touch of elegance and discretion, admitting one into an entrance hall lined with mirrors and display cases. Grey eyes narrowed momentarily as she studied those mirrored walls, seeking out a trap or a binding charm. This wasn't an Order hall proper so it shouldn't contain either but she found herself wary of entering a location that could duplicate her reflection a thousandfold, for reasons most humans cheerfully remained ignorant of.

Thankfully, several dozen invitees mingled inside and didn't seem the least bit bothered so Bryony pursed her lips before putting on her Viscountess complexion. Then she entered the salon proper, ignored the mirrored walls and searched among those who'd gathered. A good number simmered with one kind of power or another. She was fairly sure there was a vampire or two here and at least one werewolf? But then, the dossiers had said as much, hadn't they. Names, biographies in brief, all manner of superficial fact flitted across her consciousness.

MechanicalSnake BELIAL.
Bryony disdained to interrupt one of the several large groups of conversing attendees. Instead, she tilted her head slightly as she witnessed two of the Orders' members conversing in front of a display case. Mr. Gladstone's history was one she was already independently acquainted with, more's the pity. Miss Bowles on the other hand was an interesting woman. Something of a medium, if Bryony understood the context of the dossier's notes. Ghosts and such things that fairies generally avoided. Almost as much as they avoided unnatural things like crafting automata such as those on display here, or like the work of Mr. Gladstone for that matter. Difficult to think of two she had less in common with than these two.

Naturally, she left her umbrella with a servant and slowly but pointedly approached the pair. She was clad in a rather gorgeous azure evening gown with white patterns that could uncharitably be said to make her resemble a porcelain teacup. With her hands gloved in calfskin, her blonde hair up in a bun ringed in curls, she looked much like an ordinary lady of means. But then, that was an image she'd taken some pains to perfect over the past twenty three years.

Rather than interrupt them directly, she paused at an appropriately polite distance and acknowledged any eye contact with a dip of her head.

 

[laceanddoodles]

Giselle
​

She flagged down a waiter fairly quickly, with a smile and wave. "Pardon me, Sir, a glass of champagne, if you will, and one for the gentleman here," she said, with a small gesture towards Joseph with her fan. "And-- would anyone else like one? Madamoiselle d'Avingnon? It is a pleasure to see you again, as always-- Ah, Madame Beaumont? Monsieur Jameson?"

The waiter stood in attendance as the girl hesitated, still holding on to Thaddeus' arm. A few new people from the dossier had entered the building, and had congregated around another of the animatronics, and she flashed a warm smile and a nod their way as she waited for drink input from her fellows. As far as she could tell, almost everyone was here. Joseph and Clémentine were her fellow locals, along with Thaddeus, Lillith, Krishna, Madame Bowles, Monsieur Gladstone, Madame Byng. The only ones missing were Monsieur O'Sullivan and Monsieur Newcomen. Very good.

Mentions: (Literally everyone, I think, but in particular, SilverFlight ADarkAndStormyNight idalie Dominaiscna Cashi )

 

[MechanicalSnake]

Gabriel felt himself frown a little as she corrected him briefly, but he refrained from apologizing, as that would only make matters worse. Overall, it was what women wanted, to be called Madame even if they were unmarried, was it not? At least once they‘ve reached a certain age, which could have been anything past 21. It was polite. And yet they felt the need of correcting the title, if misplaced. Perhaps seeking pity, or announcing that they were free to court? He would never be able to understand them, never.

„I suppose it does work as pure art,“ he admitted, putting the creature back on its perch. „Well then, if it‘s only purpose is to be looked at, who am I to interfere...“ There was a small, secret smile on his lips, as though he were amused by something Maggie couldn‘t understand, and therefore refrained from sharing it with her. Her thinking, indeed, was as philosophical as the expression in her eyes had suggested, and the direction it took clashed violently with his own beliefs. It was entertaining to imagine how she would react if she saw his dog Hugo, now in the care of his housekeeper, or, indeed, some of the experiments he kept in the attic. Even his owl, that almost identical clockwork bird, had a couple of creatively placed wax cylinders inside, which could record and replay short messages, making it incredibly useful.

„If it was his own invention that killed him, it will be an easy case,“ he concluded lightly, not willing to start an unnecessary argument over the progression of science. „Because I will be able to immediately identify it. I would be very surprised if that were the case, however. The other option is more likely, all these things are very valuable, and if he was working on something greater… People have killed each other over much less. But it would be almost disappointing if the case was solved overnight, because – thank you for asking – as it happens, I do love Paris very much. Although I have only seen very little of it so far.“

He had the feeling like Maggie had spent some time in France, which was something he could ask her about, since she gave him the chance to change the topic, except he saw a certain fey enter the room and, without much hesitation, make her polite and unassuming way towards the two of them. The French, he believed, used the word „Mérde“ in such situations; he refrained. They hadn‘t had much contact before, not really, but she hadn‘t changed a bit since he‘d first seen her when he was a child. And it was hardly possible to forget the mother of someone you actually cared for, however briefly, especially if she were the reason why it hadn‘t worked out.

It didn‘t look like she was about to change direction, although she was approaching carefully like a moth at night. Of course, it would be impolite to barge in on a conversation without first being acknowledged. Gabriel didn‘t give her that pleasure; instead, he decided to use her slow, ominous arrival to make a step closer to Maggie and lower his voice to almost whisper. „While I realize I am risking that you will consider me entirely inappropriate, I would still like to warn you. This is Bryony Byng creeping in on us and things are about to get very awkward, because I had a brief relationship with her son which she happens to be less than excited about. So if you feel like you need to… step out and powder your nose or something, now is your chance.“

 

[Naberius]

Michael O'Sullivan

Paris. Fantastic. As though dealing with these human fools wasn't bad enough, I get shipped off to a city packed with so many of the damned things I might as well be canned fish.

Michael O'Sullivan. Resident demon, and unbeknownst to the rest of his 'team', the one who will be causing as much grief as possible without stepping over the lines of his Oath and Order binding. He stood nearby, taking everything in. After arriving, he had kept his distance from the place as long as possible, until he noticed several others starting to appear. and made his way towards the entrance with his guise intact. A murder wasn't something he particularly cared about, especially a human murder, but he had very little choice. At least from what he could tell, the group he had been assigned to work with wasn't entirely human, so maybe he would at least get a bit of enjoyment out of all this mess. Perhaps even rope one or two of them in , get them to stir up trouble on his behalf when he couldn't do it himself. He smiled, swiping a drink from a nearby server without really asking or caring who it was supposed to belong to or if it was free to take. He did start to notice several other familiar faces, when he actually cared to start paying attention to the crowd around him. Some of the others had already started gathering.

He slipped closer to one group in particular, admiring the clockwork creations in their display cases. He recognized their faces, but didn't care to note their names as of yet. Just descriptions, and what they were, those are what mattered to him. He noted one of particular interest, the werebeast. That could be potentially fun for him, and inwardly he smiled a malicious and wolfish smile. Time for the games to begin, he had to make a good first impression after all. Whilst their backs were turned and admiring the mechanisms that some odd human or another crafted, he hadn't actually remembered the names of the individuals responsible for their creation and didn't particularly care one way or the other, he approached and gave his most unenthusiastic fake smile and shit eating look. He gave an exaggerated and over the top bow, making it absolutely clear that he didn't mean a single word he said, no effort at all put into hiding the irritation he felt at being forced to not only occupy the same space as these people but also work along side them helping people. Helping people.

"Oh why hello there, kind fleshbags. What a most joyous and event filled evening we find ourselves enjoying together, this most auspicious occasion for which we have all gathered! I do oh so hope that it finds you well!"

SilverFlight laceanddoodles idalie ADarkAndStormyNight Cashi BELIAL. MechanicalSnake Dominaiscna

 

[SilverFlight]

Thaddeus stiffened visibly when the lady slipped her arm around his, but he managed a weak smile and loosened his arm, indicating he was willing to be lead anywhere she wished to go.
laceanddoodles

The door opened and Thaddeus glanced at the two figured passing through it. They were...visually striking, so much so that even without reading their dossiers, he could hazard a guess that they were the two vampires that had been assigned to the team. They moved with an uncanny grace that seemed to throw them into stark relief against the backdrop of the mundane.
Joseph nearly yelled his name and Thaddeus started. he tried to hide his smile as the American recovered. Not boring indeed. Another young woman joined them soon after and Thaddeus acknowledge her too with a slight bow.
"Mr. Jameson, Ms. Beaumont, Ms. D'Avignon." Thaddeus inclined his head politely. "Thaddeus Grey, and this is Lady Giselle Laurent, our kind hostess this evening, or one of them, I think we will be relying on our French members for this." He introduced Giselle too, trying his best at the etiquette his father had beaten into him.
Cashi Dominaiscna idalie

Thaddeus noticed the slightly eccentric young man before the woman and there was one word that came first and foremost to his mind upon seeing him: Trouble.
Fortunately, he knew of Lady Byng, and she too was making her way there, with any luck, they could make it to the performance without incident.
BELIAL. MechanicalSnake Epiphany

The next voice to sound, seemingly right by his ear made his hair stand on end.
"Mr. O'Sullivan I presume. A...pleasure." Thaddeus tried to keep his voice even. Demons were always trouble. He would have to keep his guard up.
Naberius

~*~*~

It was not long before a crystal bell was rung and the attendants began to flock to a set of mahogany double doors. Through those doors was the salon proper, a spacious domed room with a stage far to the back, half-hidden behind blue velvet curtains. Along the walls were tables of fine delicacies and more champagne.
The guests began to mingle, more spread out than before, and it gave Thaddeus a bit more room to breathe. The scents were already so thick in the air it was almost overwhelming, and the noise...he had forgotten how noisy these events were now that he was not entirely human.
He tried his best to hide his discomfort. It wouldn't be long now.
As the stage candles were lit and the chandelier candles slowly extinguished Thaddeus gestured to the other collection of Order members. They should be standing close by, he wanted their opinions after they had witnessed this apparent masterpiece.

The curtains were drawn and a single, solitary light shone down onto a figure. At first glance she almost looked flesh and blood. Her golden hair tumbled down in cascades across a sea of blue fabric, but Thaddeus noticed the joints at her elbows, the line splitting the jaw, and her eyes were glass, staring straight ahead. It was an automaton indeed, a singer, but so lifelike it was unsettling.
An accompaniment of violins began to play as one attendant came up the steps with a small, golden key. He put the key into a slot at the side of her neck and wound the mechanism.
The figure began to move to the backdrop of subtle clicks and whirs, and as the attendant stepped back, the automaton's mouth opened slightly...it lifted a hand, and it began to sing:

"Au clair de la Lune
Mon ami Pierrot
Prête-moi ta plume
Pour écrire un mot

Ma chandelle est morte
Je n'ai plus de feu
Ouvre-moi ta porte
Pour l'amour de Dieu..."

They were words, actual words pouring from the mouth of a machine. Thaddeus saw the rise and fall of the automaton's chest, obviously leather bellows used to push air through whatever miraculous mechanism was producing the sound. There were gasps of awe from the crowd. This was a feet that had never been accomplished. The voice was almost a perfect replica of a young woman, delicate and fair. As fascinated as he was even Thaddeus felt more than a little strange upon hearing it.
This collection of metal, wood and hide sounded almost human.

The lights were lit again after the song had ended and the automaton's key finally wound down. They key was left in and the machine wheeled off the stage. It was replaced by a quartet of flesh and blood, who began to play gentle chamber music as the guests began to buzz excitedly.


There were only a few moments between this and the next, most startling event.

((Only click the spoilers if you want to be spoiled.))

Spoiler: For Thaddeus and the Vampires

Though there were many scents tonight, there was a familiar iron tang that began to trickle between them. Fresh blood. It was coming from backstage.

Spoiler: For our medium and those sensitive to malevolent intent

Suddenly, a dark and hateful energy spiked sharply. Originating from somewhere backstage.

Epiphany Naberius Cashi MechanicalSnake BELIAL. laceanddoodles Dominaiscna idalie ADarkAndStormyNight

 

[ADarkAndStormyNight]

Joseph
​

Joseph watched as everyone began pouring into the building, checking through his mental notes of them- I think this is starting to get... obsessive. I need that drink. He slammed the champagne he had been given, which he recognized as improper, but honestly- he didn't really care. He needed to loosen up a bit, he had let worry take the best of him.

And then the demon bastard walked in the room. The demon was the person that Joseph was looking forward to dealing with the least. Werewolf, I can understand, but why do we need a goddamn demon? Almost to confirm his suspicions, the demon (who Joseph refused to call by his "real" name of Michael), decided to enter the room with a bow and a smile that irritated Joseph.

"Oh why hello there, kind fleshbags. What a most joyous and event filled evening we find ourselves enjoying together, this most auspicious occasion for which we have all gathered! I do oh so hope that it finds you well!" said the demon. Joseph resisted the urge he had to beat the shit out of the guy, still preferring to keep a gentlemanly disposition. The most he did was-

"That son of a bitch needs to watch where he steps before I wipe that shit eating grin off his face," Joseph muttered. It was, in actuality, a loud mutter, to which Joseph responded by taking another swig of alcohol. Everyone else was fine, but that demon... well, he didn't see them getting along.

When they were all rushed to the next room, Joseph felt a flutter of excitement. Truth be told, he didn't know much of what was going to happen. This flutter of excitement wavered for a bit as he recognized the next room as having food- real food. He repositioned himself by the table of "delicacies," which usually means food that isn't bread. Living in France without any money makes you sick of bread.

As he was wolfing down what a proper Frenchman would call... Whore doors? Poor Dwarves? No... Hors D'oeuvres. That's it. As he was wolfing down Hors D'oeuvres, he noticed as a woman started playing on stage- well, a woman made out of parts and brass. This, however, wasn't freaky like the trinkets outside, but honestly awe-inspiring. And "she" was a good singer. When she finished, Joseph began to clap and hoot, until he remembered hooting possibly wasn't the best choice in the given scenario.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Naberius SilverFlight laceanddoodles MechanicalSnake Epiphany BELIAL. Cashi Dominaiscna idalie

 

[Cashi]

Krishna's shoulders eased some of their tension at Lilith's reassuring squeeze on his arm. He searched desperately for that old mask of his, the business associate that had helped secure Nate so many lucrative deals. With only a little effort, he managed to work it into place, just in time to acknowledge the inquiry of Giselle.
"Ah, thank you, but no. I think I shall refrain." His voice was soft and whispery and only lightly accented.
laceanddoodles

His senses pricked to several new personages occupying the display of an owl: a gaunt and pallid woman, a long-haired man of a marginally rakish nature, and...the third woman in the group seemed to radiate an element of the supernatural he'd never sensed before. He had no idea who--or what--she might be, but...he wasn't sure he would ever want to be on her wrong side.

Then there was the freshest face--a dark haired gentleman who approached their merry little party of introductions with the most peculiar of salutations. Krishna tried not to look taken aback; the supernatural world never ceased to surprise him.
Fleshbags..?
The implication that this man was not also made of flesh was unsettling.

Krishna was spared the ordeal of responding to such a statement when a delicate tinkling bell signalled a movement to the next room where presumably this marvel creation would be displayed. With an imperceptible nod at Lilith, Krishna eased them both through the crowd to an area near the man named Thaddeus, then stood at attention, facing the stage.

Movement next to him drew his attention to the pale woman from earlier, dressed in fine deep red, who held a flute of champagne between her fingers.
Krishna examined her discreetly from the corner of his eye. Could she be a vampire as well? She almost looked the part, however...

Before he had time to further contemplate the dark-haired woman, the curtains were pulled away to reveal...a girl? No. His eyes widened. An automaton.
His fascination only grew as the automaton cracked open its sweet lips and began to sing.
Au clair de la lune...
With her golden hair and thin voice Krishna was unpleasantly reminded of the old lullaby the nursemaid at the Jameson household used to sing to his old sister, Arianna. "The Two Sisters", or "The Bonny Swans", whatever it had been called. The one where the elder sister murdered her younger sister and a musician made an instrument of the younger's bones and ribs and hair, which began to play its tragic story all on its own.

A sudden solitary clapping and calling yanked him from his thoughts.
Though the chill no longer bothered him, Krishna felt a shiver run down his spine. The mechanical girl's synthetic song seemed to ring in his ears.
His gaze flicked briefly to the fair-haired, otherworldy woman he'd noted earlier to gauge her reaction to the wonderous and strange performance.
Epiphany

Mentions: ADarkAndStormyNight SilverFlight BELIAL. Naberius Dominaiscna
MechanicalSnake