Post by Regan Kelly on May 10, 2005 17:14:21 GMT -8
Christmas Eve, 1890.
Nashville, Tennessee.
Black Oaks Manor.
Ventrue Masquerade Ball.
_______________________________________________________________________
He watched her exit the study door up the hall, and waited in the milling foot traffic till she swept by him, oblivious and smiling behind her hand held mask.
"Josephine!"
His familiar, accented voice rang out above the ambient noise of the party, sweeping down upon her shortly after. His arm was thrown around her waist, upsetting her balance in mid-step at the top of the stairs. They made an odd picture; a luxuriously costumed but plain young woman, in the arms of an equally plain but even more obscurely costumed man. "I haven't seen you for a good month, Josephine. Where did you run off to?"
"I had things to do, Marcellus." She pursed her lips before she smiled, briefly. "Errands, really. How did you know it was me?"
Marcellus shrugged, adjusting his helmet. "You are absolutely radiant and unmistakable in any guise." He eyed her flushed cheeks from around the edges of her mask, and opened his mouth to ask the question crossing his mind. He watched her lips thin into a line as he did so.
She looked at him from behind her mask, gripping the fan in her other hand as she waited, tapping it lightly on the stair rail.
He changed the direction of his words as she tapped her fan. "Oh, all right! I ran into Randall, and he told me he had seen you earlier, so I knew you were dressed as Empress Josephine. It isn't like our costumes are all that difficult. We all come as namesakes. “ He paused, thinking. “Well, most of us."
"Then what have you come as?" She nodded to his archaic costume, tiara twinkling in the candlelight. They walked, arm and arm, down the staircase and mostly ignored by the noble throng of costumed court members.
"Oh, just a man from the works of Shakespeare, Josephine. Speaking of frightening sights and visions....have you seen Padre's costume?"
"No, I seem to have yet to have the pleasure. I asked Randall, but he refused to tell me."
Marcellus grinned as they left the last step, dropping her arm to take her hand as they neared the parlor door. He dropped a brief kiss on her hand, gesturing to the closed door. "I suggest that you enter through yonder door and find out for yourself."
She gave him a short, hard look from behind her white mask. In the end, she reluctantly entered as he opened the parlor door for her. Inside was a mix of Kindred and ghouls; predominantly a crowd of lesser court figures. At the center of them was Padre. Josephine covered her mouth with her fan, eyes wide behind her mask, taking in the sight. The red velvet and white fur trimmed costume was as instantly recognizable as the corpse-like seer within it.
He sat by an over burdened Christmas tree, Randall standing behind him and holding up a large velvet sack. A ghoul was sitting in his lap with an expression that was equal parts fascination and horror, and he patted her back while she peered at the vine-painted cylinder in her hands. Padre murmured into her ear before she slid from his lap with little difficulty, to wander the room without aim. Slowly, she lifted her hands to hold the cylinder to her eye, murmuring soft, nonsense words as she turned the top of it, lips parted in appreciation.
Randall placed the sack into Padre's lap, and she observed the crowd stepping back as he wheeled Padre toward her, their business in the parlor obviously concluded. The gruesome, corpse like Father Christmas gestured to her to lean close, gifting her with a grisly smile.
"Josephine. What a pleasure to see you."
She inclined her head, returning the grisly smile with a polite one. "It's always a pleasure to see you and Randall, Padre. How are you fairin' this evening?"
She flicked her fan open, lazily fanning herself as the trio stepped out the parlor door and parked themselves to one side of the hall. Her hands were tense, fingers curved around the base of her fan, holding her mask to her face with a few fingers from her left hand twisted around the pole to which the mask was attached.
"Oh, I'm quite fine, Josephine. And yourself? We haven't seen you with us for some time." The seer's tone was one of paternalistic disapproval, and she briefly drew her fan over her eyes, evoking a slight smile from Randall.
"I've been out of the court attending to some business, Padre."
The seer inclined his head, eyeing her for a long moment, before nodding to himself. "Yes. Yes, you have. But you‘ll be done with that soon enough, won‘t you?"
Before she could answer, he gestured to Randall, who took the sack from Padre’s lap. From it, he pulled a small box, handing it down to Padre‘s skeletal, waiting hands. The box was handed held out from domitor to costumed gunslinger.
Slowly, she handed her mask to Randall, who twirled it by the pole in his finger tips. Eyeing them both, she pulled her fan around her wrist by its tie, and then carefully undoing the ribbon from the box, revealed the object nestled among tissue papers inside. With a puzzled, thoughtful look, she withdrew a rusty cage no bigger then her fist.
"A cage? Why a rusty cage, Padre?"
The seer smiled, blue eyes burning in their black sockets.
"You‘ll understand when you‘re older. Good evening, Miss Kay."
Nashville, Tennessee.
Black Oaks Manor.
Ventrue Masquerade Ball.
_______________________________________________________________________
He watched her exit the study door up the hall, and waited in the milling foot traffic till she swept by him, oblivious and smiling behind her hand held mask.
"Josephine!"
His familiar, accented voice rang out above the ambient noise of the party, sweeping down upon her shortly after. His arm was thrown around her waist, upsetting her balance in mid-step at the top of the stairs. They made an odd picture; a luxuriously costumed but plain young woman, in the arms of an equally plain but even more obscurely costumed man. "I haven't seen you for a good month, Josephine. Where did you run off to?"
"I had things to do, Marcellus." She pursed her lips before she smiled, briefly. "Errands, really. How did you know it was me?"
Marcellus shrugged, adjusting his helmet. "You are absolutely radiant and unmistakable in any guise." He eyed her flushed cheeks from around the edges of her mask, and opened his mouth to ask the question crossing his mind. He watched her lips thin into a line as he did so.
She looked at him from behind her mask, gripping the fan in her other hand as she waited, tapping it lightly on the stair rail.
He changed the direction of his words as she tapped her fan. "Oh, all right! I ran into Randall, and he told me he had seen you earlier, so I knew you were dressed as Empress Josephine. It isn't like our costumes are all that difficult. We all come as namesakes. “ He paused, thinking. “Well, most of us."
"Then what have you come as?" She nodded to his archaic costume, tiara twinkling in the candlelight. They walked, arm and arm, down the staircase and mostly ignored by the noble throng of costumed court members.
"Oh, just a man from the works of Shakespeare, Josephine. Speaking of frightening sights and visions....have you seen Padre's costume?"
"No, I seem to have yet to have the pleasure. I asked Randall, but he refused to tell me."
Marcellus grinned as they left the last step, dropping her arm to take her hand as they neared the parlor door. He dropped a brief kiss on her hand, gesturing to the closed door. "I suggest that you enter through yonder door and find out for yourself."
She gave him a short, hard look from behind her white mask. In the end, she reluctantly entered as he opened the parlor door for her. Inside was a mix of Kindred and ghouls; predominantly a crowd of lesser court figures. At the center of them was Padre. Josephine covered her mouth with her fan, eyes wide behind her mask, taking in the sight. The red velvet and white fur trimmed costume was as instantly recognizable as the corpse-like seer within it.
He sat by an over burdened Christmas tree, Randall standing behind him and holding up a large velvet sack. A ghoul was sitting in his lap with an expression that was equal parts fascination and horror, and he patted her back while she peered at the vine-painted cylinder in her hands. Padre murmured into her ear before she slid from his lap with little difficulty, to wander the room without aim. Slowly, she lifted her hands to hold the cylinder to her eye, murmuring soft, nonsense words as she turned the top of it, lips parted in appreciation.
Randall placed the sack into Padre's lap, and she observed the crowd stepping back as he wheeled Padre toward her, their business in the parlor obviously concluded. The gruesome, corpse like Father Christmas gestured to her to lean close, gifting her with a grisly smile.
"Josephine. What a pleasure to see you."
She inclined her head, returning the grisly smile with a polite one. "It's always a pleasure to see you and Randall, Padre. How are you fairin' this evening?"
She flicked her fan open, lazily fanning herself as the trio stepped out the parlor door and parked themselves to one side of the hall. Her hands were tense, fingers curved around the base of her fan, holding her mask to her face with a few fingers from her left hand twisted around the pole to which the mask was attached.
"Oh, I'm quite fine, Josephine. And yourself? We haven't seen you with us for some time." The seer's tone was one of paternalistic disapproval, and she briefly drew her fan over her eyes, evoking a slight smile from Randall.
"I've been out of the court attending to some business, Padre."
The seer inclined his head, eyeing her for a long moment, before nodding to himself. "Yes. Yes, you have. But you‘ll be done with that soon enough, won‘t you?"
Before she could answer, he gestured to Randall, who took the sack from Padre’s lap. From it, he pulled a small box, handing it down to Padre‘s skeletal, waiting hands. The box was handed held out from domitor to costumed gunslinger.
Slowly, she handed her mask to Randall, who twirled it by the pole in his finger tips. Eyeing them both, she pulled her fan around her wrist by its tie, and then carefully undoing the ribbon from the box, revealed the object nestled among tissue papers inside. With a puzzled, thoughtful look, she withdrew a rusty cage no bigger then her fist.
"A cage? Why a rusty cage, Padre?"
The seer smiled, blue eyes burning in their black sockets.
"You‘ll understand when you‘re older. Good evening, Miss Kay."
