Best Of

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Zau actually has been waking I've noticed."

Mechanical clankings rumble from deep beneath the ground, as though some great clockwork engine lay beneath your feet.

You say, "I've been encouraging her to be around more often, which she is trying to do."

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "I wonder if her spouse disappearing contributed to her lack of engagement."

Idly, stirring a cup, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "Many a broken Magnagoran heart ends up that way. Ah, when will they learn love is a commodity."

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across your lips as you glance at Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue.

You say, "I can understand being forlorn if my spouse cruelly abandoned me."

Lifting a dainty hand to finger your neckline, you glance about with uncertain disdain.

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue glances askance at Uzriel.

Uzriel glances askance.

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says to you, "It would make a good story for the library though, hrm."

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue taps her folded fan against her lips and glances back to you. "Well, while that may be so, I have personally found love an obstacle and a path to ruin, not success."

You peer at Uzriel unscrupulously.

Dryly, you say, "Certainly a path to test ones longsuffering, in my experience."

You inspect your nails idly. How droll.

Tapping a finger against his mask thoughtfully, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Hypothetically speaking only, I mean."

Eying Uzriel sidelong, you say, "Mmhmm."

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "Oh? I see you have thought it through, Lord d'Vanecu. How much prestige for the library would a tale of your abandonment gather, pray tell?"

You have emoted: Sapphira folds her arms and arches a brow.

Defensively, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Not nearly enough to be worth a woman's fury repaid to me afterwards."

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue's smirk is half-hidden behind the fan pressed to her lips. "Wise answer, perhaps the next Society axiom?"

Your expression changes to one of obvious amusement.

You say, "A truth universally acknowledged, or should be anyway."

You nod your head sagely.

Fingertips tracing the rim of her teacup, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "The young lady has taken to bed then? Despairing?"

You say, "Certainly seems that way, though she's been rousing herself more which is good. One can hardly be useful in their catatonic sorrow."

Using your tongue and the roof of your mouth, you make a quiet clicking noise.

Chuckling, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "I am not sure about despairing - though she certainly is not often awake. I assume she has grown too fond of the box we kept her in - assuming you still mean Zau?"

You ponder the situation.

You say to Uzriel, "Perhaps it's time to put the box in the Sea of Despair. Poetic and no doubt a good incentive to not be in it."

As he nods slowly in your direction, you realize Uzriel understands.

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue takes a dainty sip first before she queries, "You have been keeping her in a box?"

Casually, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Well you know, children can be very -noisy-."

Sapphira adds, "And rebellious."

A faint ringing from the entrance into the teahouse heralds the entrance of a relatively non-descript woman. Clad in greys and blacks, and clearly of lower rank, she scans the teahouse until her eyes fall upon Jamilah.

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue smiles and nods to the conversation but her gaze flicks briefly to the woman and she makes a curt beckoning gesture as she says, "I certainly see your point, there is a reason you see none of the noble brats here."

Absently, glancing at the visitor, you say, "A great tool for attitude adjustment, we have found."

Uzriel nods his head at you, showing his acceptance.

Her soft-soled shoes making barely a sound, the woman approaches. She dips into a curtsey to the table as a whole but avoids meeting anyone's gaze.

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue leans to the side as the woman whispers something into her ear. She stirs her tea while listening and finally says, "Perhaps we ought to make that a city project, confine the unruly ones to boxes ship them off to Angkrag? Ah, we already do that, thank the Dominator!"

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue dismisses the woman with a quick look and turns back to you and Uzriel but she looks somewhat distracted.

You say, "Sometimes I think there is more research to be done in the area of geomantic implants. Find a way to remotely switch off the ability to speak for a few choice individuals as I choose."

You have emoted: Sapphira spares the woman another glance, appearing disinterested but clearly curious nonetheless.

Glancing idly towards the visitor, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "The gravedigger pits are a good resting place or perhaps the gutter. Though I think the Lady Grey is onto something with the Sea of Despair." Then with a chuckle, "Nil, can we permanently implant that on most Gaudiguchians?"

You grin mischievously at Uzriel.

You smile impishly and say to Uzriel, "You are the scientist my dear, you should refocus your energies in that direction perhaps."

Half-heartedly, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "Certainly should."

You have emoted: Sapphira hesitates a moment, before asking quietly, "is aught amiss, my Lady?"

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue sets her fan on the table and picks up the teacup. She leans over it and takes a small sip, lost in thoughts until your voice snaps her out of it. "Mmm? Just a situation I have been keeping my eye on."

With her usual bravado, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "I do spend most of my time here for a reason, after all! This one is a bit remote though, not exactly worth interfering in."

The cold voice of Uzriel sends chills down your spine, "I somewhat imagine there's little in the city and surroundings she doesn't have an eye on."

You caress the thoughts of Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance as you whisper, "I assume you're right."

Nonchalantly, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "I mean... I would have to get up for very little gain, and snow is still on the roads."

The cold voice of Uzriel sends chills down your spine, "I've a theory about her and her family."

You have emoted: Sapphira stifles a smile. "I'm curious, what is situation? I do love a good tidbit of gossip. Perhaps we could even save you some trouble."

You caress the thoughts of Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance as you whisper, "Oh?"

The cold voice of Uzriel sends chills down your spine, "Best not spoken of even this way I should think."

Waving a dismissive hand, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "I have already tried once, Lady Grey. I have offered to take an aspiring artist under my wing, introduce her to the Society. She laughed in my face, so now she can clean up her own mess."

You caress the thoughts of Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance as you whisper, "Remind me to ask you about it later."

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "She is in the Presidio right now, word is she has caused another scandal."

Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue lifts her hand to finger her neckline. "I do not ask twice."

Uzriel nudges you lightly, "A potential recruit and scandal. Or at the very least amusement it sounds like."

You have emoted: Sapphira suddenly looks very interested. "Aspiring artist, you say? I've been looking for an assistant without much luck. Does she have talent, do you think?" She taps her fingernails on her collarbone in thought.

Half to herself, you say, "Though perhaps a bit unruly, or naive maybe, to disobey Lady Jamilah."

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says to you, "Perhaps some time in the box as a child would have done her good."

Pursing her lips, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "She has... something. A spark to be sure. She has been in Magnagora at one point before, meant to be apprenticing with family."

Lowing her voice, conspiratorially, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "Far as I understand it, she barely escaped being sacrificed to the Legion."

Flicking at the air with her folded fan, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "That is exactly my point, Lord d'Vanecu."

You have emoted: Sapphira raises her brows. "And yet she did escape. Curious. What sort of scandal I wonder....oh, maybe we should just go find out. Shall we pay her a visit for you, Lady Jamilah?"

Making a magnanimous gesture with her hand, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "Your time, your loss, Lady Grey."

Her smirk on full display, Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue says, "I would take a bodyguard if I were you."

You say, "Some entertainment at the very least- oh my."

Uzriel hefts up a magnum blastworks as he cheerfully reports, "Ready for duty Lady Grey."

You have emoted: Sapphira tucks her hand into Uzriel's elbow. "Never fear dear husband, i'll protect you- oh. Well. Alright."

You give Uzriel an amused look.

You say to Lady Jamilah, the Iron Virtue, "My Lady."

-- path track Presidio –

The Amaranth Gate.

Dark shadows coalesce in and out of existence as small, dark clouds obfuscating the available light as they float around the area from a shield shrine of Fain nearby. Thick dreamy cotton clouds are spread across the firmament. Opening into a broad, dusty courtyard, the inward side of the thick, wooden Amaranth Gate is intricately carved with the contiguous pattern of the vines of the Amaranth, each flower meticulously detailed down to the smallest petal and stem in the petrified wood. A simple stone well appears near the western length of the open courtyard, surrounded by flagstones that have been raised up several steps to reach a tattered wooden bucket and crank. Three low stone buildings the colour of creamy vanilla squat at the eastern extreme of the courtyard, their outward faces boasting thin, arching colonnades that shelter the darkened entrances. Opposite the stone structures, a tall open-aired structure waits in solemn silence. Idly rubbing the hilt of her katana, Lady Savara n'Rotri eyes you warily. Towering menacingly over the area, a behemoth taurian guardsman hefts an enormous double-bladed battleaxe.

Though not even close to his size, Savara n'Rotri somehow manages to tower over the taurian guardsman before, hands on her hips. "Explain," she hisses through gritted teeth.

A behemoth taurian guardsman stomps a hoofed foot against the ground anxiously as he answers, "I asked for something to honour your House, Lady n'Rotri".

Savara n'Rotri reaches out and grips the guardsman's forearm. "And THIS is what you thought appropriate?" she asks while gold lines upon his skin catch the light, the tattoo there depicting the ascending form of High Prophet Ghani n'Rotri.

The cold voice of Uzriel sends chills down your spine, "...look at his arm."

look taurian

Toweringly tall, the bulky and muscular body of this taurian is tattooed with tribal patterns and symbols in a rugged manner. Twin horns curl into the air, each several feet long, and end in gruesome points. His exposed arms and chest are brutally powerful and boast massive shoulder blades that protrude from his broad back. Clutched with both of his hands is an enormous, double-bladed battleaxe that is polished to a bright sheen. A notable exception to the uniformly monochrome tattoos upon his body is a tattoo done on his forearm which depicts the ascending form of High Prophet Ghani n'Rotri in exquisite detail.

A behemoth taurian guardsman is quite powerful.

You caress the thoughts of Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance as you whisper, "Oh my. What remarkable work."

You caress the thoughts of Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance as you whisper, "Isn't that the prophet you rather admire? Hmm."

A behemoth taurian guardsman grunts loudly and pulls his arm from Savara's loosened grip. "Not exactly this, no. It was that little imp's work, she said she'll surprise me with something good."

The cold voice of Uzriel sends chills down your spine, "I suppose his own family might not quite approve of him, but yes."

You perk your ears up as an errant topic catches your interest.

Savara n'Rotri's patience is clearly wearing thin as her lips pull into a line and her jaw clenches. She looks over to you and Uzriel and manages with some measure of calm, "I see. Where is she?"

A behemoth taurian guardsman scratches at the base of his horns in confusion.

You have emoted: Sapphira gives Savara a polite nod, "I believe we're looking for the same...imp."

Quietly, Savara n'Rotri says, "Not if I find her first."

Savara n'Rotri turns to the guardsman and exhales.

Deathly calm as she queries, Savara n'Rotri says, "You were supposed to be guarding her?"

You think to yourself: That is some rather good detail in that art work. Some promise here yet, maybe.

A viscanti servant clad in black livery passes by and presses a note into your hand. It reads simply, "Hurry - L".

You have emoted: Sapphira slips away while Savara continues berating the guard.

A sweet-smelling, luxurious boutique.

A pair of white wooden double doors leads into this posh boutique, each side bearing half of the gold-outlined amaranth crest of House y'Bolgari. The northern wall features a large white bay window that stretches almost from the ceiling to the floor and bears the name of the establishment, "Effervescent Beauty", upon the central panel done in elaborate golden calligraphy. Lavender tulle drapes frame the window but do not obscure the view upon the solemn courtyard from which raises the midnight obelisk. A small glass table embraced by two armchairs stands by the window, whilst marble shelves displaying assorted fragrant beauty products line the eastern wall. A wide counter stands to the south, blocking the path to a doorway farther in. A pale grey carpet covers the floor and extends to the west where a glimpse of a drawing room can be seen. Clad in a tailored suit, a viscanti assistant awaits customers with an air of nonchalance.

You say, "What the Nil."

Bowing low, a sophisticated viscanti assistant says, "The lady is occupied."

A female voice reaches you through the closed doors, "Of all the stupid things to do, Ys!"

Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance thinks to himself: Hrm, interesting. Never seen it closed before.

You say, "Hmm, well, she will want to see me."

Another voice laughs and yells back, "What's she gonna do? Pass me to Vit again? Please."

A sophisticated viscanti assistant's brow furrows and he slips through the doors.

You tap your foot with mild impatience.

Uzriel glances askance.

You whisper to Uzriel, "A servant slipped me a note to hurry, signed by Latifa."

A female voice reaches you through the closed doors, "There are worse things that she can sti- Yes, I said yes!"

You glance askance at a sophisticated viscanti assistant.

A sophisticated viscanti assistant starts to close the doors behind him and pauses. "Please, the lady will see you."

Lifting a dainty hand to finger your neckline, you glance at a sophisticated viscanti assistant with uncertain disdain.

You say, "Indeed so."

An enchanting amaranthine drawing room.

The walls of this richly-appointed drawing room have been painted a vibrant amaranthine hue and covered in mahogany wood paneling over their lower halves, while the floor has been carpeted in plush pale grey. A white marble fireplace occupies the western wall and features a sizable painting of Nazkheem y'Bolgari proudly affixed above the mantle. Assorted lounging furniture has been scattered throughout the room and turned to face a low mahogany table standing in the middle; some of it has been upholstered in silvery grey velveteen, the rest in dusty pink. A porcelain vase filled with fresh exotic flowers graces the table and infuses the room with a pleasant scent, whilst an exquisite white-gold chandelier ensures sufficient lighting in this windowless room. Set upon the table on a silver-gilt filigree tray is a collection of bone china teaware, the teacups awaiting use. Latifa y'Bolgari stands poised, a polite smile pressed to her lips.

Totally irreverent, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante reclines upon the chaise lounge, feet up on the fabric. She is fiddling with a silver needle while Latifa y'Bolgari nervously paces around the drawing room, her arms mid-gesture as if she were lecturing someone.

ih

"teacup275857"                an ivory porcelain teacup

"latifa362341"                Latifa y'Bolgari

"ysette350724"                Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante

Number of objects: 3

p ysette

A young viscanti of fine features and noble bearing, Ysette is tall and shapely, with a flawless steel-blue complexion and eyes of palest turquoise. Her honey-blonde hair gleams like gold, the tresses cut to only reach the chin in a sleek style. The front sweeps across her brow, locks streaked with a shock of vivid cerulean in an almost defiant manner, broken only by a pair of twisting grey horns that point regally upward. Dressed in unrelieved black from her knee-high buckled boots to her battered old leather coat, she wears a gown almost at odds with her accessories, with its expensive clingy velvet and fine, feminine cut. Many mismatched piercings dangle from her ears in way of studs, hoops and spikes, and a tiny diamond stud pierces one nostril, with a matching hoop looping through the corner of one arched brow. Peeking from beneath her clothing, tattoos trace artistic lines and images on her skin, with the most notable found on the inside of her right wrist: a bloodied amaranth grasped in a clawed fist, inked in scarlet and gold that occasionally gleams with preternatural light.

Uzriel inclines his head politely to Latifa y'Bolgari.

You have emoted: Sapphira openly inspects Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante with curiosity and disdain alike, before returning her attention to Latifa.

Latifa y'Bolgari rushes over to the doors and gestures for the assistant to close them immediately. "Lady and Lord d'Vanecu, I am so glad you were at the Presidio!" she says, turning and resting her back against the closed doors, "She will be the death of me."

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante bobs her feet over the edge of the chaise lounge.

You say, "Hmm, indeed. Lady Jamilah made mention of a wayward aspiring artist and a new scandal. Naturally we came to see how we can help."

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante's steel-blue brow furrows at the mention of Jamilah and herself but she remains in her reclined position, sulking.

Glancing towards Ysette, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Lady y'Bolgari, a pleasure as always. Indeed we were discussing with her how we have kept our children mostly in line."

Closing her eyes for a moment, Latifa y'Bolgari says, "Ah, of course she would know everyhing. It is not so much a scandal as a potential scandal. Ysette, would you like another cushion or will you get off your..."

l

An enchanting amaranthine drawing room.

The walls of this richly-appointed drawing room have been painted a vibrant amaranthine hue and covered in mahogany wood paneling over their lower halves, while the floor has been carpeted in plush pale grey. A white marble fireplace occupies the western wall and features a sizable painting of Nazkheem y'Bolgari proudly affixed above the mantle. Assorted lounging furniture has been scattered throughout the room and turned to face a low mahogany table standing in the middle; some of it has been upholstered in silvery grey velveteen, the rest in dusty pink. A porcelain vase filled with fresh exotic flowers graces the table and infuses the room with a pleasant scent, whilst an exquisite white-gold chandelier ensures sufficient lighting in this windowless room. Set upon the table on a silver-gilt filigree tray is a collection of bone china teaware, the teacups awaiting use. Latifa y'Bolgari stands poised, a polite smile pressed to her lips. Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante stands here, idly spinning a piercing needle with a bored expression. Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance stands here amidst a cloud of deathly cold mist. He wields the damned skull of Dysmas d'Vanecu in his left hand and a magnum blastworks in his right hand.

You see a single exit leading east.

Latifa y'Bolgari does not finish the sentence as wisps of tainted gas escape her lips.

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante raises, not at all hurriedly, and bends her knees slightly. "Lord and Lady," she says flatly, more a statement than an acknowledgement.

You have emoted: Sapphira inspects Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante with a bemused expression, torn between disdain for the lack of manners and fascination of the same. She sits elegantly on the edge of an armchair, smoothing her skirts over her knees. "Potential scandal, you say? We are rather good at nipping those in the bud."

You caress the thoughts of Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance as you whisper, "Clearly a noble in appearance if not behaviour."

Latifa y'Bolgari exhales slowly and smoothes over her skirts, almost in a self-soothing gesture. "Apologies, where are my manners," she says as she approaches, "Please, be seated."

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante takes that as an excuse to sit back down again, this time somewhat with more decorum for Latifa sits down on her other side on the chaise lounge.

You have emoted: Sapphira lifts a hand and smiles at Latifa y'Bolgari, "Think nothing of it, my Lady." Still not quite addressing Ysette, she continues. "Why don't you tell us the whole of it, hmm?"

Uzriel hesitates a moment, glancing towards the entryway before taking a seat beside you, letting a magnum blastworks come to rest comfortably across his lap, "Lady Savara n'Rotri certainly seems ready to violently nip it herself as well."

You think to yourself: Ahh good scientist, bad scientist.

You have emoted: Sapphira glances sidelong at Uzriel briefly, a hint of amusement curving her mouth.

Pouring tea into the cups on the low mahogany table, Latifa y'Bolgari says, "That is exactly the worst of it at the moment. I have tried to imbue my somewhat reluctant charge, Ysette, with a modicum of manners but she continues to infuriate her actual charge, Lady Savara."

Shrugging, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "I have great manners, for when it is necessary."

Flatly, Latifa y'Bolgari says, "Case in point."

You have emoted: Sapphira takes a teacup and smiles faintly over the rim. "That was your work then, on the guard? The uhh, n'Rotri tattoo? interesting choice." She takes a sip and watches Ysette.

Latifa y'Bolgari continues to explain while Ysette crosses her arms at her chest. "She has burnt bridges with Baalran already so in terms of artistic mentorship, she has little."

You think to yourself: Even i got pulled up for my manners sometimes. Especially when people irritated the very lichseed out of me.

Proudly, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "Ah, that went up in flames like the Bridge of Torment. Good riddance, he kept trying to get me to run his errands."

Without inflection, you say, "I see."

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante laughs softly at her own words and lights up at your comment. "It was! It is so fitting, is it not?"

Bringing her thumb and index finger together, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante blows a chef's kiss into the air in a sign of approval.

Sarcastically, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "The disappointing House n'Rotri! Known for Kebira and Ghani. Perfect."

You say, "Clearly your artistic talent greatly outweighs your skills in diplomacy and tact."

Sweetly, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "Baalran said one should embrace the flaws of the medium."

Drily, Latifa y'Bolgari says, "For sculpting."

Running a hand over her brow, Latifa y'Bolgari says, "I am not sure what to do with her. She's been going through all the mentors House n'Rotri could provide and now this. She is technically under Savara's guardianship right now."

You think to yourself: She is certainly trouble. Rather amusing manner of rebellion though.

Wryly, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "There is always the true bottom of the barrel family that one could be sent to, I shudder to imagine or say the name aloud."

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante scowls miserably.

You have emoted: Sapphira sets her teacup aside and drums her fingers thoughtfully on the armrest. "Do you even care to refine your art, Ysette?"

Gesturing with her needle as if it were not a dangerous implement, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante exclaims, "Yes! And I don't need family for that! All they have been is an obstacle, sending me here and there. Without them I could move back to the city and live as Ysette Dvarsh!"

You look up into the air for divine inspiration.

Latifa y'Bolgari buries her face in her hands. "You again with that book!"

Voice muffled by his mask, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "Of all the names, Dvarsh?"

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante grabs an ivory journal embroidered with orchids from a pocket of her coat and waves it at Latifa as a convincing argument. "It is not *that* book. It is *the* book! Madame Tzarin had a book written about her!"

Latifa y'Bolgari exclaims, "She was an ex courtesan!"

Latifa y'Bolgari looks to you and then Uzriel pleadingly, exasperation on her face. "She thinks to become an artist like Madelin Tzarin. Clearly a fake name, though why should would bother I will never know. Not like she hailed from a noble family."

You have emoted: Sapphira raises her brows. "You wish to live in the city as a Courtesan? Were you thinking of locating to the dumpster fi-, err, Gaudiguch?"

Insisting, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "Madame Madelin Tzarin."

With a snort, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante exclaims, "No!"

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante throws the little ivory journal on the table. The cover reads "Tattoos of Magnagora by Sthai d'Murani" and the book has clearly seen much use. "She was a great tattooist! Her works made it into a book!"

Tsking, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "So inspired by her you named yourself after a month named for a -merian-?"

You hide a grin behind your hand.

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante looks a bit stumped for a moment. "N-no! Dvarsh is mid-summer. That's like me. Laidback, no fuss!"

You say, "Pish posh, I very recently had some of my own art published in a book. You do not see me with a fake name or acting the part of a courtesan."

You wave your hand dismissively.

To no one in particular, Latifa y'Bolgari says, "Prince preserve me."

You say, "I have been looking for an assistant, you know. Someone to learn their art and help me with mine. Living in Magnagora. Among the social elite."

Scowling, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "Nobody writes books about famous tattooists anymore. My art will have books written about it."

You have emoted: Sapphira puts a slight patronising emphasis on the words social elite as she picks up her teacup once more.

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante falls silent for a moment and steals a glance to Latifa. "There are books about your art, Lady d'Vanecu?" - suddenly she remembers her manners.

Uzriel suddenly takes out his notepad and quill and jots a few notes on it before the idea fades away.

Noncomittally, you say, "Mmhmm. A selection of my paintings that reveal the beauty of Magnagora that too few pause to see."

An argument erupts behind the closed doors leading to the drawing room, Savara's intent voice carrying clearly.

You have emoted: Sapphira glances to the doors. "You could of course learn from me, should you prove willing to heed me. Unless of course, you'd rather stay with aunt Savara." She sips tea casually.

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante looks mesmerised but still somewhat uncertain until the commotion starts. She pushes deeper into the chaise lounge, as if that could protect her.

You think to yourself: Threat of the box and -redacted- could keep her in line. And she does seem to have some talent.

Savara n'Rotri storms in, the doors banging against the wall. She is followed by the viscanti assistant from the foyer who is trying to hold her back.

Roaring, Savara n'Rotri exclaims, "Of all the stupid things to tattoo, Ysette!"

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante jumps to her feet and moves to position the chaise lounge between her and Savara. "I tattooed him from a member of our family! It's my heritage, as you keep reminding me!"

Uzriel begins to rise to his feet to block Savara n'Rotri, then with an amused tilt of his head, settles back down into his seat and doodles idly on the still open notepad in the margins.

Narrowing her eyes, Savara n'Rotri says, "Do not play word games with me, you are sorely outmatched. Ghani *ascending*? Would you like to see what that would be like?"

Eyes blazing, provocatively, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante exclaims, "Grand!"

Savara n'Rotri takes a slow step towards Ysette as she speaks. "Is that so? Well, I will get you second best."

Bravely, gripping the edge of the seat, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante exclaims, "Oh? Angkrag this time? I bring shame on the family, is that it? I will bring more if you send me there in my prime!"

The cold voice of Uzriel sends chills down your spine, "I suppose we could intervene before the girl gets murdered, maybe."

Raising her voice, you say, "Now now ladies, not all hope is lost."

You caress the thoughts of Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance as you whisper, "I suppose. i'd hate to have blood stains on Latifa's carpet."

Continuing to take small and slow steps towards Ysette, Savara n'Rotri says, "Oh no, you are hereby delegated to the Commander."

You think to yourself: Oh gods. Sword for brains are so tiresome.

11300h, 10300m, 12300e, 10p, 0bl, 0br, Belrxkb<>-[n](XSHPAlsprb) {74.0733}

Her complexion fading almost to a pale blue, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante exclaims, "To.. to Afmecia? To the Gutter?!"

You have emoted: Sapphira rises smoothly and steps between the two. "That will not be necessary."

11300h, 10300m, 12300e, 10p, 0bl, 0br, Belrxkb<>-[n](XSHPAlsprb) {22.9828}

Ever the dutiful husband, Uzriel rises to his feet to stand beside you, tucking the notepad away as he does.

Taking another step, ignoring Sapphira, Savara n'Rotri says, "That's Commander, for you, you are to report for duty at the Waste Storage Facility come morning."

You have emoted: Sapphira raises her hands in a placating gesture but her voice is firm as she speaks. "That is no place for my new assistant, I fear."

Savara n'Rotri reaches out impossibly quickly and grabs Ysette's elbow. "It is now, come!" The young woman tries to get out of the grip but by then it is steel. Everything is happening way too fast and Ysette's needle is in her hand, stabbing at Savara.

You think to yourself: The girl had better be bloody grateful after all this.

You have emoted: Sapphira yelps and steps aside instinctively, leaving Uzriel close to the fray.

Latifa y'Bolgari sits frozen starring in horror at the scene while the viscanti assistant lunges on Savara, a jakari chain in his hand suddenly.

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante stabs at Savara repeatedly. "I am not going anywhere! Let go!" She aims for the eye but Savara smacks the needle away. "No mentor will put up with you for long!" Savara manages while the assistant jumps onto her back and starts choking her out with the jakari.

You have emoted: Sapphira murmurs a half prayer, half curse under her breath.

Uzriel jabs his magnum into Savara n'Rotri's stomach as he says in a stern yet steady voice, "Let's all stay real calm here and not make anybody spill blood on Lady y'Bolgari's carpet. I believe the Lady Grey had something to say."

You have emoted: Sapphira smooths out her gown and huffs a breath.

Savara n'Rotri freezes, the assistant half-sitting on her back, the woman half-hanging from her grip. Her weapon is sheathed but her free hand rests on it instinctively.

Easily, as if she were not mid-struggle, Savara n'Rotri says, "This is a family matter, Lord d'Vanecu. Everyone promises to take the girl and teach her and then just send her back. This has to end."

Savara n'Rotri says, "And end it will in Waste Storage Facility, under military rigour."

You have emoted: Sapphira exhales. "No. She will end with me."

You have emoted: Sapphira cuts a sharp glance at Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante, then back to Savira. "Talent such as hers should be redirected, not wasted, and I need an assistant."

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante yanks herself out of Savara's loosening grip and half crawls, half runs over to Sapphira's side. "Lady d'Vanecu wants me! Absolutely, she has books! And art! And she gets me!"

Savara n'Rotri crosses her arms at her chest and looks you up and down. "You mind?" she asks of the assistant, who slides down her back and pockets the jakari away quickly.

With trepidation, Latifa y'Bolgari exclaims, "Lady d'Vanecu is a shining example of Magnagoran art and culture, a paragon!"

Helpfully, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "Totally."

Uzriel takes a step back himself as well, lowering the weapon.

You say, "I am not a charity, however. She will, of course, in her extreme gratitude for saving her illustrated hide, learn to follow my example and learn some refinement as my assistant."

Lifting a dainty hand to finger your neckline, you glance about with uncertain disdain.

Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance thinks to himself: Thank Nil, I haven't been a geochemantic in so long... pretty sure this thing is on blanks.

Gruffly, Savara n'Rotri says, "She would be in the city itself, rife with situation for scandal."

Sulkily, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante exclaims, "I am very refined!"

Latifa y'Bolgari stares coldly at Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante.

Sweetly, you say, "Oh, we have ways of keeping our children from public disgrace, I’m sure Ysette will be no real problem."

In correction, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "I could use some more refinement. It's not like there's a cap."

You think to yourself: I wonder if she'd stab holes in the box with that needle. What a wonderful instrument of art and pain.

You say, "Mmhmm, you see. She can be taught."

Savara n'Rotri licks her lips as she gathers her thoughts. She adjusts her armour as she finally says, "Very well, but one mistake, Ysette. One scandal and you’re bunking with the Commander."

You think to yourself: And she had better be damned grateful.

Savara n'Rotri says, "I am not providing an allowance for her, she will be your responsibility."

You have emoted: Sapphira claps her hands cheerfully. "The d'Vanecu are not paupers, my Lady n'Rotri. We shall see she is well looked after and her art nurtured."

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante nods eagerly, knowing better than to speak again.

Savara n'Rotri makes a sound in her throat, neither agreement nor disagreement. She nods curtly to those gathered and stalks off.

Lady Savara n'Rotri regards you warily before flowing out to the east with a predatory grace.

You have emoted: Sapphira turns to Ysette and puts her hands on her hips. "And you, young lady, owe me a very large debt."

Speaking to her assistant, Latifa y'Bolgari says, "Good job, perhaps some sleeping arrows next time?"

A wry smile spreads across a sophisticated viscanti assistant's face.

Uzriel chuckles as he holsters his weapon, giving it a trusty pat.

The cold voice of Uzriel sends chills down your spine, "Instinct to grab the old piece, I don't think it would have actually -done- anything."

Regaining some of her bravado, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "Alright, but you are not going to be sending me for errands like "find my lost caravan with some chunk of marble" right?"

You caress the thoughts of Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance as you whisper, "Thankfully no one decided to call your bluff. You looked awfully impressive anyway."

Latifa y'Bolgari says, "Thank the Nil for your blaster, Lord d'Vanecu! And better yet, for not having to use it here."

You say to Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante, "The what matters not. You will occasionally run errands for me, or for the commander, that's your choice to make. With me, you can use your art and see it grow."

You shrug helplessly.

With a roll of her eyes, Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante says, "Well if you put it like that."

Holding up a hand in false modesty, Necrochemist Uzriel d'Vanecu, the Demagogue of Dissonance says, "No thanks needed, but I'm certainly glad we kept it from getting messy in here."

You have emoted: Sapphira smiles serenely. "Thought you'd see it my way. Of course, that extends to the Necrochemist too."

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante secrets her needle into her sleeve and bends her knees in a half-curtsey. "I would be pleased to become your assistant, Lady d'Vanecu".

You have emoted: Sapphira inclines her head to Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante. "Then let it be so."

You say to Latifa y'Bolgari, "We'll let you set your chambers to rights, my Lady, and perhaps enjoy some tea in peace."

You lightly peck the air beside each of Latifa y'Bolgari's cheeks, greeting her formally.

Latifa y'Bolgari lightly pecks the air beside each of your cheeks, greeting you formally.

Latifa y'Bolgari says, "Thank goodness for Jamilah."

You have emoted: Sapphira raises a brow at Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante.

Latifa y'Bolgari flashes Uzriel a joyous smile.

Ysette n'Rotri, Illustrated Dilettante curtseys gracefully.

Latifa y'Bolgari says, "Behave."

Latifa y'Bolgari glances askance.

A wry smile spreads across your face.