The Repossession Mambo: Wedding Crashers

Started by RUNE, February 14, 2019, 07:01:17 PM

Charity

Location: Shuttle

When Amorru sat beside her, Charity was already staring in horrified disgust at their mole turned (potential) crew mate? One corner of her cherry lips turned upward and her brows were half furrowed and half aloft, mostly at the uncouth nature of the drunkard's plan. A sound of offended distress slipped past her lips before Amy seemed to address it as tactfully as the man could manage. Her hand settled over her heart and she shook her head at the uncivilized member of their crew, almost in motherly disappointment. With a gentle sigh, she handed out the dresses and suits as best as she could while strapped in, wanting to make sure no one forgot their 'disguises'. Honestly, this was how they should all have been dressing already, but Charity chose her battles with this lot.

As Amorru rambled on about the spot-on description of Belerephon parties and the mentality of the wealthy, her perfectly manicured brow arched and dark gaze slowly turned to settle upon the man. "Mmm," she hummed in acknowledgement and suspicion when he'd added his touch of naivety to the end of it. "Indeed," she murmured, smiling softly and turning to nod to the rest of the crew, confirming that the 'rumors' Amorru had heard were in fact correct.

Location: Ainsworth Estates

With a sigh, Charity stared out past the front port at the approaching floating estate, desperately fighting to keep her eyes from rolling. It was a comfortable and familiar sight, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be seeing it. At first, the debutante had been thrilled to get back to some form of civilized society but now that she was about to be there, paranoia and panic were beginning to set in. Her hand rose to touch the perfect up-do holding up her hair... perhaps she should have at least tried to change the color... Well, it was too late now.

There had been some time for the crew to change into their formal attire, but doing so had been up to their discretion and they were more than welcome to change at the estate instead. Amy was speaking again and Charity idly nodded along with him, only half listening. Yes, steal a ship, enjoy the circus, seduce the--. Her head whipped about, and she stared at the pilot/Captain. "Seduced by the Duchess?" she asked, surprised. "Which Duchess?" she continued, brows aloft in befuddlement. The woman turned her head to look toward King and Grace, trying to include them in her incredulousness and hoping they'd come up with some better idea.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Artemis Graham

April 29, 2019, 01:42:29 AM #61 Last Edit: May 05, 2019, 04:16:17 PM by Artemis Graham
Reassured that she was somehow able to have her cake and fix the ship too, Art settled herself in to an empty seat and enjoyed the ride. Much like Reyes her trip so far had been hectic and she was stiff, sore and exhausted. Between the smooth piloting of King and the dulcet tones of the Captain complaining about the rich, Art's eyes were closed in seconds. She didn't see the view. She didn't want to. As an Osiris aristocrat she'd been taught to see the Bellerophon locals elaborate displays of wealth as ostentatious and crass. Besides, she'd been to her fair share of birthday, wedding and (on one memorable occasion) divorce celebrations on Bellerophon to know what to expect.

As a child and a young lady it had been difficult to conceal her awe and wonder at the elaborate trimmings. As an adult she knew enough to be sickened by this display of wealth. Especially as so much of it was raised through war profiteering, corruption and exploitation. Artemis lolled herself out of a doze as they began to descend but listened to Charity's words with her eyes still closed. "Not it," she said, still a little groggy from lack of sleep and not entirely her reserved self. "I'm more suited to stealing than seducing. Although given the right person I'm partial to both."

Somewhere between the start of her sentence and then end Art fell back into sanity. Her eyes snapped open and it was only decades of training that stopped her blushing or showing any real embarrassment. Only the well trained would have noticed anything. Of course there were at least three well trained observers of human behaviour on the shuttle so she was out of luck. "Sadly I don't see either out there," she continued, attempting to recover and staring out the window instead of her crew mates. "Looks like I'll have to settle for just enjoying the hospitality."

Bolin Babylon

Out of the limousine and into the sunlight, Bolin found themselves desperately and quite suddenly wanting a bath. This estate was, by all metrics, quite amazing but Bolin wasn't one to be impressed by much. It was a bit old world for their taste and being bored was more of a state of being rather than an expression of current trends. A frightfully proper butler with, Bolin had to admit, a very nice suit and a chin they wanted to take a bite out of, welcomed Bolin to what they were absolutely certain would be... a wedding. "Mm thank you dear." They removed their sunglasses to get a better look at Mercer. "You are adorable. Do you have a name or shall I bestow one upon you?" The flirting was half-hearted and second-nature, one might get the sense Bolin wasn't even realizing they were doing it.

Bolin didn't wait for anyone, let alone an answer from the help, and so descended into the opulent Ainworth Estate. "Which way is it to my suite? I feel disgusting after that trip and I am dying for a bath." A conservatory for tea? Bolin didn't even register the invitation, let alone make room on the agenda for it. A bath, yes, that is what was needed.
Dialogue Color - Crimson

Grace Halladay

"Before we leave... I needed to see to a medical concern Grace... I'm all out of them hearing pills you gave me. I was hoping I could get a few more before the wedding. You know to hear the vows and such."

Grace's attention was drawn from the floor by the rustling in the seat next to her as Octavia sat down and then she spoke in a volume slightly louder than necessary when speaking to one who is less than a foot away.  Grace looked up at her thoughtfully however and realized Octavia's struggles had fallen to the back of her mind, maybe Amorru was right in dragging her away from that scene.  Her duties were to this crew, or at least what was left of them and Octavia certainly was in need of her assistance.  Giving her an acknowledging smile she reached into her satchel before remembering she'd left Octavia's medication in the infirmary.

Unbuckling from her seat the surgeon scurried back down to the infirmary pausing at the mess she'd left, the soreness in her elbow coming back to memory as she looked around.  Quickly re-calibrating the potential needs of the crew she gathered a few different medicines, implements, bandages and the like before returning to the shuttle.  It was only after arriving back at her seat she considered how quickly Octavia had consumed the medication.  It was understandable of course, the absence of sense made it's return more addicting than any drug.  She would have to monitor and control Octavia's intake going forward to ensure she didn't become too dependent or suffer any side effects of the medication.

"You went through those pretty fast.  You're going to want to conserve as a high concentration of this medicine has been known to cause issues such as liver failure."  Grace instructed as she dumped a couple pills out and handed them to the woman, not really sure if she could hear her or not at this point. 

While this exchange happened they took off and soon they were joined by Sean.  He was a peculiar man, not trusted by the crew for obvious reasons but to her she really hadn't been any less trustworthy than anyone else and he was clearly quite intelligent and swift in adapting as he recalled a past experience with a person of whom he based his character on.

"Anything else you know of? Anything I missed?"

As he summed up his ideas and asked for her opinion, one that she only had limited ability to provide.  Doctor was often a term that assumed one knew everything.  Grace was a specialist, a sawbones as Amy liked to say.  She had very little other than some mandatory courses to offer in the realm of mental illness.  Thankfully the aforementioned pilot jumped in and simplified the matter, she did take exception to his little shot at the man however as it was his avalanche of words to the security team earlier that caused the current complication.  Couldn't blame Sean for wanting to be prepared.  She really didn't have the energy for another argument so she let him prattle on, sharing Charity's dubious reaction to the duchess comment.

Still she would let them worry about the details, she was just along for the ride until she could book safe passage back to search for Emit and the real Captain.

Octavia Wynn

Location: Shuttle

"You went through those pretty fast. You're going to want to conserve as a high concentration of this medicine has been known to cause issues such as liver failure." Grace instructed as she gave Octavia a few more of the pills.

Unfortunately for Grace, Octavia wasn't really listening. Not that she couldn't hear the doctor, she just wasn't interested in her reprimands.

"Well, I'll see what I can do," was the red-head's only response.

Soon after, they were joined by Sean who, thankfully, inundated Halladay with his own concerns for the part he was to play at the wedding. So, she no longer had to attempt to maintain any sort of conversation. He had done this so fantastically on a number of occasions for Octavia that she began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. She would thank him with a replacement bottle of his whiskey soon. She was almost sure she'd be able to acquire some - if not here on Bellrophon then she'd commission a pickup and delivery from someone.

For the remainder of the journey she was simply content to lean her head back on the seat and close her eyes. She wanted to relax as much as possible before the insanity started again. Blocking out the thin, watery voices was easier than trying to listen, anyway. She tried not to worry too much about the whole invitations/alternate identifications snafu on the ride. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment. She would have to wait until arrival and try to explain her situation, ideally to security and away from anyone on this crew.

Location: Ainsworth Estates

She followed her shipmates out of the shuttle, bringing up the rear of the group. She finally found data pad with the invitation transfer on it. It had been stuck under some highly impractical shoes that Alice had bought her to go with the dress. She bought some flats in the same color once Alice had left the store.

The view from the docks and the sight of all the people arriving for the party reminded Octavia of home. The event could have rivaled some of the extravagant parties her parents had attended and even hosted on occasion in her youth. She felt a sudden gut wrenching pang of homesickness as her favorite memories of her mother and father flashed behind her eyes. But this was neither the time nor the place to dwell on the past.

She concentrated on more fully on the present and awaited the opportunity to pull aside someone respectable looking from security to straighten things out for herself.

RUNE

Location: The Conservatory
Planetary Clock: 1600 - Tea Time



Relaxing music filled the conservatory's tea room as the crew of the Wushu arrived. What luggage they brought was taken to their rooms for which they were giving key cards in a refreshingly efficient manner in comparison to how the previous several days had gone. While some among their numbers may have felt out of place in such a dainty scene, others still felt right at home among the porcelain dishes, painstakingly presented finger foods, and overly polite small talk - even if they practiced otherwise.

Both Mr. Ainsworth and the future Mrs. were present, though Charles seemed to be more tolerating the event than reveling in the inherent attention each of the guests sought to offer in the same way his young bride-to-be did. Still, the couple appeared happy enough on the surface. Wushu's crew settled in and went about the room as they each saw fit: some mingling, others filling their pockets with macarons, and a fair couple choosing instead to decorate the walls in an attempt to avoid the whole thing altogether.

I know that I hung on a windy tree nine long nights, wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin, myself to myself, on that tree of which no man knows from where its roots run.
No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn, downwards I peered; I took up the runes, screaming I took them, then I fell back from there.
The songs I know that king's wives know not Nor men that are sons of men.
So do I write and color the runes.

JonathanMercer

The guest who emerged from the limousine looked every bit the definition of high fashion.  Usually, Jonathan had found people who put so much effort onto their surface to have very little below it but if the radiant figure before him was typical of the influential social elite, it was no skin off Mercer's teeth.  Such people generally cared little about the help, so long as they got what they needed.  And if Bolin Babylon was a man of hidden depths, well, it was hardly likely that it would matter to the security expert.  The cultural icon would likely have far more relevant company in the wedding party.

Quote from: Bolin Babylon on April 29, 2019, 11:12:08 AM
"Mm thank you dear." They removed their sunglasses to get a better look at Mercer. "You are adorable. Do you have a name or shall I bestow one upon you?" The flirting was half-hearted and second-nature, one might get the sense Bolin wasn't even realizing they were doing it.

"Jonathan Mercer," he answered, though Bolin was already on his way down onto the impeccably manicured pathways.  Jonathan fell in just a half-step behind the man, not taking the lead until the man decided on his destination.

Quote from: Bolin Babylon on April 29, 2019, 11:12:08 AM
"Which way is it to my suite? I feel disgusting after that trip and I am dying for a bath."

"Of course.  Right this way."  No detail was overlooked when it came to such prestigious guests.  Bolin's room was only a short walk away.  It was one of a set of rooms that each had their own private entrances out onto a terrace overlooking a lavish swimming pool.  Exotic plants in pricey planters sat tastefully around the terrace, with trees and flowering bushes lining the perimeter to give the area a degree of privacy and separation from the more mundane guests.  One of the household staff had fallen in to the rear of the party as they had proceeded, and upon reaching the room, he quickly unlocked the door and held it open for Bolin, another man with the luggage standing just to the side to allow the guest to enter first.

"I hope your rooms are satisfactory.  If there is anything further you need, Oliver will be on hand to see to it."  The hired man bowed slightly as he was introduced, then stepped back to take up post just outside the door  "Is there anything else you need at present?" Jonathan asked, hoping the answer was no so that he could get back to more pressing matters.

Charity

Location: The Conservatory

This was it. Her room aboard Wushu was acceptable and she'd attempted to make it as nice as it could be made (although she'd made several mental notes to buy more furniture and tapestries to make it a little homier). This, however, this massive estate and glimmering conservatory were more of what she was accustomed to. And that terrified her. After they'd been led in and given the keys to their room, Charity had attempted to calm herself down. It wasn't the fact that they'd given her and her 'husband' King a single room with a single bed that had her tense. It wasn't the fact that she knew they were here to steal something from someone instead of enjoying the party that made her heart pound in her chest. It was the fear that someone here would know her and...well she did not dare think on the consequences of that.

"I was not lying when I said you were my personal guard, or that I'd pay you," she muttered to King, whose arm she was holding as tightly as outward decorum would allow. "I feel more in danger here than I did during the explosion," the woman confessed, trying to smile up at him but sighing when it came out half-baked. Her head shook, perfectly tidy hair managing to stay in its proper place throughout the motion. She never moved too far from him, not even when she approached one of the tables to get them both a few macarons to share. That's what couples did, she imagined.

Unlike the rest of the crew, Charity had arrived in the appropriate attire for teatime and didn't need to change, which had allowed her to avoid the awkward idea of sharing a room with a man entirely. Curious, the debutante looked around for Grace, chewing on her lower lip and handing King a small porcelain plate covered with pastel almond cookies. "I suppose we should congratulate the happy couple," she whispered, seeming uncertain. "Surely Amy wasn't being serious about seducing the groom?" she asked, staring up at her companion and 'husband' with furrowed brows. With her back to the others, she didn't mind letting her mask down, but as always it was just on the edge of her face, in the back of her eyes, ready to be pulled back up at a moment's notice.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Octavia Wynn

Location: The Conservatory

There had been a brief hold up at the door with a few young-looking security officers, while they decided whether or not Octavia would be allowed to hang on to her bow. Guns, knives and anything else vaguely weapon-ish were being confiscated and stored for obvious reasons. But, ultimately, it was agreed she could keep hers because it was a novelty and sporting accessory. She was even offered use of the greens for shooting. And who's to say there were no perks to an archaic weapon? It helped that she hadn't changed into her party clothes on the shuttle. She looked the part of a sportswoman in her regular clothes.

She had considered explaining the invitation mishap to the two young guards, but she assumed their one and only job was weapons management, so she went on looking for someone who might be better qualified to handle this situation.

Once she was properly inside the observatory, she got somewhat distracted. After a brief feeling of homesickness, she re-acclimated to her surroundings. This was so much like home for her that her instincts and muscle-memory took her over. She felt her party-smile plaster across her face. Her well-trained etiquette clicked into place as she wound through the room saying hello and shaking hands. She was surprised to find she knew a few people here. It probably shouldn't have been a surprise, considering they'd gone to the same school. What wasn't such a shock was that the people she did recognized didn't recall her.  Well, she'd never been very social at academy.

In her rounds, she came up to a circle of gentleman who were interested in her bow. It became a bit of a topic of conversation. Three of the group were sportsmen and fans of archery. There was eventually arranged a friendly competition. She tentatively accepted should she have the time free. It would be fun to shoot competitively again.

She realized she had yet to congratulate the new couple when her brain kicked back into gear. She couldn't congratulate the Mr. and Mrs.-to-be Ainsworth until she'd sorted out her invitation. Looking back to the entrance, the guard had changed. The new pair looked much less green than the previous two.

She pulled the older of the two aside, "Excuse me, Sir. May I have a moment to discuss a little mishap that has occurred, please?"

The guard nodded, motioned to his partner to watch the door and they stepped aside to speak.

"There was a little bit of an unfortunate misunderstanding on our arrival regarding our invitations." She pulled her invitations and her transfer approval from her pocket. "The original invitations for Mr. and Ms. Rosenthall were presented, but the transfer approval was not. As stated on the approval, I am Ms. Octavia Wynn and my plus one is the redheaded gentleman just over there." She pointed towards Sean. Catching his eye, she gave a friendly smile and motioned for him to join them.  She purposefully did not provide a name, as the transfer did not specify one. "My apologies for not clearing this matter up sooner, but it has been a bit hectic since we arrived."

Sionnach

In his room, after stating his estimation of each chamber and hallway he passed through in an almost sing-song robotic fashion, and markedly refusing to make eye contact with anyone, Sean showered.  He sincerely loved a nice hot shower with actually decent water pressure.  Showers on ships were more concerned about water conservation and only sprayed enough to get the job done. Not very relaxing.  This shower was heaven, he kept an ear and eye out as best he could, and three knives. one on the shampoo and body wash dispensers a piece and one clenched between the cheeks of his bottom.  Very, very few people would expect a naked man in a shower to produce a weapon. Sean liked creating those kind of surprises when the situation called for them.

Once through with the shower and other tonsorial niceties, making a little bit of unnecessary mess, he wandered around the room in a haphazard, aimless sort of way. He picked at a bit of wall paper there (or pretended too) and then he opened one of his bags tossing or dropping items onto the floor seemingly at random until he palmed the item he needed and flicked it on with his little finger to activate the listening/video device detector and it came up with nothing, or at least nothing it could detect.  So  he tossed it and the blades flat on the bed and pulled out the clothes The Debutante had purchased...and incredibly, just by looking at him a few times...and gotten the right size, a very fine, and even allowed for a good range of motion without ripping, jacket of wool and silk thick enough to easily hide blades and other small equipment in.  He might just have to reassess the woman...maybe.  Right at the moment he carefully slipped into the finely threaded, blousy shirt, with silver piping about the wrists and collar, with the same silvery material used as laces down the chest of the garment.  He wasn't overly happy with the brushed suede breeches but they tucked into the most comfortable gorram boots, no...the most comfortable footwear he'd ever worn.  He examined the "so-dark-it-might-as-well-be-black" wool and silk vest. then examined the lining of the coat.

He was indeed changing is opinion of The De...Charity, he chided himself but only a little, there were four very nearly concealable pockets sewn into the rib area of the jacket that were closed and opened by noiseless VapoCling.  He used his knife to cut slits into the inside at places where he determined he could place knives without them being easily detected and where he could reach them without too much trouble and time.  Hardly idea. but what job ever was?  He filled the jacket with a total of seven knives and three other items he thought it might be prudent to have along.

He left his room and headed toward the Conservatory, maintaining his low key act. Almost as soon as he entered Octavia got his attention.

"There was a little bit of an unfortunate misunderstanding on our arrival regarding our invitations." She pulled her invitations and her transfer approval from her pocket. "The original invitations for Mr. and Ms. Rosenthall were presented, but the transfer approval was not. As stated on the approval, I am Ms. Octavia Wynn and my plus one is the redheaded gentleman just over there." She pointed towards Sean. Catching his eye, she gave a friendly smile and motioned for him to join them.  She purposefully did not provide a name, as the transfer did not specify one. "My apologies for not clearing this matter up sooner, but it has been a bit hectic since we arrived."
[/quote]

He walked toward her and the two obvious guards with just enough awkwardness to sell it and looked vaguely at the floor.

"One hundred seventy six thousand five hundred twenty six cubic meters," he informed no one in particular.

Grace Halladay

May 21, 2019, 08:17:21 PM #70 Last Edit: May 21, 2019, 08:21:06 PM by Grace Halladay
Location: The Conservatory

When they arrived Grace followed all of the necessary protocols and went where she was led finally winding up in her room.  Once there she gave it a quick inspection, utterly embarrassed to once again be staying in such luxury when so many could benefit from even the sale of... her hand ran across the silk sheets distracting her from her indignant righteousness.  The dress Charity had crafted her of equally luxurious nature gripped in one hand she lay it across the bed as she sat down to take off her boots.  Once seated she again couldn't help but admit how soft and comfortable the bed was and couldn't resist bouncing on it's edge, it was a far cry from the stiff confines she'd been staying in on Wushu and did her best to try not to enjoy out of guilt but again indulged as she fell back arms spread out as she stretched across the impossibly expensive and barely more narcissistic amenity.

Minutes passed before she forced herself back up to sitting and began undressing.  After a quick shower she grabbed the dress tailored for her.  It was a little eerie how well Charity sized her up.  The dress fit almost perfect though it was a bit tight for her liking, though maybe Charity being so skilled purposely made that choice.  She stood in front of the over-sized mirror almost on instinct pressing the dress down with her palms as Charity had done so often.  She had to admit since her youth she'd not worn anything this elegant and the best word she could think of was revealing to describe the cut though modest compared to what many other women would be wearing.  She was to the nines from the neck down but she knew if she wanted to blend in and go unnoticed with these elites she still had some work to do.

She looked around the room and found a powder table which had more makeup than she had medical equipment.  This was going to be a chore, she'd only done her makeup once since her youth and expectations came crashing down that night and that was a vain attempt to impress Amorru.  She set to work trying to be a different type of surgeon.  She kept the makeup as simple as possible while being passable for this crowd.  After that she set her hair in the most complex up-do she could remember how to do but still functional and keeping her long locks out of her face.  After she was done inspecting her work she sighed.  This wasn't who she was.  Who she ever wanted to be again.  Unfortunately it was who she needed to be right now.  Another deep breath in.

"Game face Grace.  Game face."  She breathed out before leaving the room and heading to the conservatory.

Location: The Conservatory

Whatever her expectations had been for the room were far below the pretentiousness she was greeted with.  Either she grew up in a much smaller pond than she'd remembered or her memory of the expenditure was not as good as she thought.  The moment she entered the room she was offered a drink which she denied of course as she skirted the room trying to avoid the attention of as many as she could though thanks to Charity she did have to excuse herself from at least a few invitations to the dance floor.  Grabbing a tall glass of water which she intended to nurse for the next however many hours she found a relatively secluded part of the wall and glued herself to it.  She saw some of the crew, Charity with King while Sean and Octavia were linked.  She couldn't see Amy however, not that she was looking for him.  Each glance to the entrance may have betrayed her denial but she wouldn't admit it.  She checked a clock across the room.  Good, three minutes gone already.  This was going to be a painful evening for the wallflower.

Grace's Hairstyle/Makeup

Artemis Graham

Artemis was asleep. She'd stumbled through their arrival, bleary eyed and loopy. They'd been assigned rooms and Artemis had just enough presence of mind to take her outfit off Charity with a quick "Thank you," and before she stumbled up to her new digs. "Not that I get a thank you for keeping the gorram engine going through the nightmare," she mumbled to the empty room when she arrived. It was safe to say that Art wasn't happy. She was exhausted, she was living out a scene from her childhood nightmares, she was dirty and (perhaps worst of all) she was starving.

Even though consciously he priorities went: food, shower and then sleep, her body got the better of her and a quick pause at the foot of the bed led to a full on collapse. It would take a fire alarm, or some sharp knocking, to break her out of her slumber. And considering she still didn't know her part in their thieving process and the thing she was best at was off the table her mind was totally at ease.

Inevitably hunger would pull her awake again but for the moment, the little mechanic dreamed...

Akhsar King

June 24, 2019, 06:12:59 PM #72 Last Edit: June 24, 2019, 06:14:11 PM by Akhsar King
This was far form King's first time hobnobbing with high society, though it was certainly the first in recent memory. Mr. and the soon to be Mrs. Ainsworth were there, as well as plenty of guests doing to social dance. King was happy to play his part, but thanked the stars he didn't have to do this kind of thing often. He much preferred the rough and tumble world his affairs usually kept him in.

"I was not lying when I said you were my personal guard, or that I'd pay you," Charity muttered from his side, her arm tightly wrapped around his own. "I feel more in danger here than I did during the explosion," She looked up at him and attempted a smile. He gave her a warm smile in return, partly because that's what a loving husband would do, but also it was meant as genuine comfort. This was her world, and there was a chance that someone might recognize her here. A small chance, but a very real one none the less.

She had stayed very close to him since they arrived. The farthest she'd gone had been to one of the food laden tables a few steps away. "I suppose we should congratulate the happy couple," Charity whispered after returning with some macaroons. "Surely Amy wasn't being serious about seducing the groom?" She looked up at King again, her brows furrowed. King chuckled. "I'll be honest, I'm not even sure he knows what he's about to say before the words are falling out of his mouth." He said quietly. "Besides, look at them. Happy bride and groom to be. So far it doesn't look like seduction will be the right play." Whether they were indeed happy was up for debate. They certainly seemed like a happy couple, but 90% of high society was looking and acting a certain way regardless of what was really going on, so it was probably even odds one way or the other.

"As for congratulating them, you lead I'll follow. Course I doubt they'd notice if we didn't. They don't know us, and with how many people are here I wouldn't be surprised if this whole part of the day ends up a blur for them by evening."
Dialogue Color: Olivedrab

Amorru Reyes

July 21, 2019, 10:58:40 AM #73 Last Edit: July 21, 2019, 11:09:28 AM by Amorru Reyes
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The Guest Suites
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In his assigned suite, which he presumed for some reason to be sharing with Octavia since they now found themselves "betrothed", Amorru barely allowed the facsimile of class to register before making his way to the bath. He stripped down, wincing with a grimace as pain across his back reminded him of his haphazard heroism just days before. He grumbled to himself about Grace's seeming lack of her namesake, lowering himself into a vanilla and lavender scented pool of water with a raspy "huaaaa..." as the nearly steaming concoction lapped at his light olive skin.

Relaxing for what felt like the first time in months, Amorru's emerald eyes rolled back slightly as the lids slid shut. His head nodded slowly to the side as the relieving warmth set in to aching bones, despite the dull sting of the bath bomb's soap seeping in to cuts he wasn't sure his resident medical attendant would bother to clean again. His mind soon drifted to a simpler time. A young Galileo Duschane rode horseback astride a silver mare, in a casual riding outfit laid out by the help...

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Amorru's eyes shot open as he leaned forward in the bath. Water splashed around the rim and on to the floor. His face soured as he reached behind himself, fearing an opened stitch. The heavy handed knock struck the door again, leading Amorru to assume a particular member of his crew. "King! When I said we'd talk later I meant at a time of my choosing! And preferably not while I'm naked. I wouldn't want to embarrass you. Because. Well. You know."

"Ah, Mr. Rosenthal? Courtesy security detail for our most exclusive guests. I'm to escort you to the observatory. Was there someone named King in your party, sir?"

Amorru squinted and groaned. "No, no. Uh. My wife's - um - nephew. The idiot. He thinks he's the King of Londoninium. His doctor advised us that sometimes its best just to play along. It keeps him from becoming agitated, you see." A short, self-satisfied chortle escaped Amorru's throat, too low for the security detail to hear through the door. "Give me a moment to get dressed. I'll be ready for you shortly."

And so it was with some effort that Amorru dressed himself, blissfully unaware of either the trickle of blood seeping through the back of his shirt as he pulled the jacket around himself and affixed his half-cape accessory about his shoulder or the over-exaggerated eye-rolling of disbelief as his awaiting escort relayed his position and any relevant details to Mr. Mercer regarding the fish's activity. The expression was quickly replaced with a cheerful grin as Amorru threw open the door and set the stolen set of shades over his eyes to cover what remained of that fat oaf on Greenleaf Station's fist around his orbital socket. "After you, Mister...?" "You can call me Wynn, sir." "Wynn! I love it. It's all I ever do, after all." "Ha ha. Very clever. If that's the case, you might like to try your luck on the horses after the luncheon."

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The Observatory
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Amorru shook his head as he entered the Observatory. Compared to what he was used to on Persephone, the garish decoration just looked lazy. However, the music was pleasant, the food smelled appetizing, and he couldn't help but to take in the scenery presented by the gathered masses as they all dressed up in a bid to outdo one another. His eyes hovered over the men and women as he served himself macaroons and finger sandwiches in a rather uncouth manner that made him stand out in defiance of his proper upbringing, stopping momentarily to roll his eyes at The Duchess and her hired man. He resumed scanning, hoping to catch a particular shock of golden blond and imagining Artemis in something black and slinky but couldn't find the mechanic anywhere. Finally his eyes fell upon the back of a shapely figure in flowing, midnight blue. Her dark hair pinned up a manner that showed off a feature he wasn't aware he missed.

Amorru sucked food crumbs off the ends of his fingers as he approached the woman, but stopped mere steps away from her as he recognized the configuration of small marks dotting up her shoulder and neck. Those points he'd connected with his fingers as if drawing a constellation on the stars to the point he would never forget. Amorru retreated, backpedaling before Grace turned her head and caught him staring, and in throwing away all consideration for his surroundings stumbled right into Johnathan Mercer. "Ay, wot?" Amorru muttered as he tried not to lose his food to the floor. Remembering where he was, and who he was supposed to be, the pilot cleared his throat and attempted to disguise his adopted accent before addressing the older gentleman. "Ahem. Pardon my clumsiness. I didn't scuff your shoes did I? That's quite a shine, there!" Amorru adjusted his shades and brushed his fingers off on his jacket before extending his right hand with a smile. "Alexander Rosenthal, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"
It's a mechanical bull at number one You'll take a ride from anyone
Everyone wants a ride, pulls away, Ooh, From you

Metric, "Black Sheep"

JonathanMercer

July 25, 2019, 03:14:35 PM #74 Last Edit: August 07, 2019, 07:03:11 PM by JonathanMercer
The moment that the door closed behind his illustrious guest, Jonathan took off toward the conservatory at a brisk clip.  He hadn't been able to manage the timing for events to his satisfaction thus far, but there was still plenty of time in the day, and nothing significant had yet happened that could derail his plans.  The new players did give off a dishearteningly unpredictable first impression, though, and the sooner he could get his ducks in a row, the better.

Entering the conservatory, he took in the scene at a glance, mentally grinding his teeth that the persons of interest had ended up in the same room as the bride and groom.  He looked over to Abrami who, as the bride's personal detail, ought to have been keeping him appraised of the couple's movements, but Abrami was noticeably busy looking in the opposite direction.  Mercer shook his head and caught the eye of the guard who had introduced himself to Reyes as Wynn.  The guard gave a slight tip of his head in the direction of the gentleman under observation and Mercer headed in his direction.

He paused a few feet back from the fellow, using the opportunity to take note of all the pieces in play.  The couple identified as the Thoringtons were off to one side, potentially within staging distance of the happy couple.  Jonathan immediately judged Mr. Thorington to be a professional, someone who merited serious consideration, but he couldn't quite bring himself to give the same consideration to the young lady on his arm. 

There was no sign of Caitlyn Marx, and while he couldn't get a good look at 'Alice' or 'Rathbin,' he did spy two red heads near a security guard off to one side of the room who seemed likely to belong to the names.  He had just settled on his priorities for handling the situation when Reyes backed into him.

Quote from: Amorru Reyes on July 21, 2019, 10:58:40 AM
"Ahem. Pardon my clumsiness. I didn't scuff your shoes did I? That's quite a shine, there!" Amorru adjusted his shades and brushed his fingers off on his jacket before extending his right hand with a smile. "Alexander Rosenthal, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

Jonathan took Amorru's hand and gave it a hearty shake, simultaneously putting his other hand on the man's shoulder to begin steering him toward a side door, his face lit with the most friendly of smiles.  "Ah, yes, Mr. Rosenthal, just the man I was looking for," Jonathan chatted as if the two were old friends.  "Jonathan Mercer.  Quite a pleasure to meet you..."  Jonathan did a quick scan of the crowd.  There were guards on the couple, so he would trust them to handle the Thoringtons if those guests decided to try anything in the meantime.  If he could just sweep up 'Alice' and 'Rathbin'...



Not too far away, one of the security staff had found his stoic observation of the room interrupted by an elegant, if somewhat casually bedecked, young lady.

Quote from: Octavia Wynn on May 18, 2019, 02:55:05 PM
"There was a little bit of an unfortunate misunderstanding on our arrival regarding our invitations." She pulled her invitations and her transfer approval from her pocket. "The original invitations for Mr. and Ms. Rosenthall were presented, but the transfer approval was not. As stated on the approval, I am Ms. Octavia Wynn and my plus one is the redheaded gentleman just over there." She pointed towards Sean. Catching his eye, she gave a friendly smile and motioned for him to join them.  She purposefully did not provide a name, as the transfer did not specify one. "My apologies for not clearing this matter up sooner, but it has been a bit hectic since we arrived."

Quote from: Sionnach001 on May 19, 2019, 07:44:15 PM
"One hundred seventy six thousand five hundred twenty six cubic meters," he informed no one in particular.

The young man Octavia approached was a temporary worker brought in specially for the occasion.  His features immediately formed into a smile upon seeing the attention of the lovely young woman lighting upon him, but the smile froze as he noticed the bow she carried.  The shock of that breach of protocol distracted him briefly from her words, but he quickly pulled himself together in time to gather that the security breach before him also seemed to have a problem with her tickets.  He spared only a brief glance toward the red-headed man she indicated.  "Uh, yes, uh, let me check on that," he said, and then turned half away to mumble discretely into his earpiece. 

"Hey, Wallace - was there something about some Rosenthalls?" he said, doing his best to keep his voice low enough not to be overheard.

"Mr. Mercer was clearing them," came the response, and to the young professional's relief, he saw his boss stride into the room.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Mercer will get that all straightened out for you," he said graciously to the lady, gesturing in the proper direction.  "He's the man there in the white waistcoat.  I could, uh, take your bow back to your room, for your convenience.  Or to the range, if you'd prefer," he added hopefully, desperately jumping at the chance to fix the problem before his employer could learn about it.

Jesse

In jail....Great..  At least they didn't know who she was.  Jesse sat and sighed in her cell, her lips pursed as she looked at the wall.  Her legs and arms crossed, her foot gently tapping the wall, she stared off in utter frustration. They had all of her gear.  At least it was locked down, it would take a genius, or another her to break through her firewall, passwords, and encryption.  And that just didn't exist, not anywhere near Bellrophon anyway. The worst part was she had been caught trying to break into a party.  Grant it, she was breaking into the party, to steal money, from...everyone? But she was never very good at the whole "sneaky" thing. 

Jesse stood up with a huff and paced, she kicked the wall in boredom.  She never did know how to entertain herself without a device of some sort. Some might call it a "problem" or an "addiction," she didn't like to put a label on it. She just preferred the comforting glow of a computer screen compared to the company of people.  Socializing was overrated anyhow. At this point her biggest problem was finding a way out.  Without any technology there was no way to break out.  It would be helpful if she could connect to the network, there's always a backdoor to exploit. Of course all of this was moot, as she was technology-less, in a cell, with her thoughts...and evident desperation.

Octavia Wynn

"Ah, yes. Mr. Mercer will get that all straightened out for you. He's the man there in the white waistcoat. I could, uh, take your bow back to your room, for you convenience. Or to the range, if you'd prefer.

Octavia simply blinked at the young guard, already dismissing him from her thoughts as soon as he directed her elsewhere. 

"It's pretty convenient where it is." Her tone wasn't belligerent or agressive in any way. It was just a statement of fact, as if she was stating the time or the day of the week. After all, security hadn't confiscated it upon entrance, deeming it a "sporting accessory." She viewed that as permission to leave it on her person. 

She looked over to her red-headed companion and turned in the direction indicated. "To Mr. Mercer we go." 

Mr. Mercer seemed to be busy with Amorru at the moment which was fine with her. She herded Sean  to the side, careful not to actually touch him, while she waited. In a hushed but brusque tone she said, "Listen, I don't have any idea what the what Mr. Amorru or any of the other people on this dumb little ship are up on - yourself included I suppose - but I'm here legitimately and now it looks like you are too. Do we really need to go on with this little charade, you reckon, or can you be regular?"

Sionnach

Sean's eyes wandered haphazardly all about the room...as if calculating every feature in some unfathomable geometric way. He was, in fact, using this deception to note every uniformed and plain clothed security officer, exit and means of egress.

Quote
She looked over to her red-headed companion and turned in the direction indicated. "To Mr. Mercer we go."

Mr. Mercer seemed to be busy with Amorru at the moment which was fine with her. She herded Sean  to the side, careful not to actually touch him, while she waited. In a hushed but brusque tone she said, "Listen, I don't have any idea what the what Mr. Amorru or any of the other people on this dumb little ship are up on - yourself included I suppose - but I'm here legitimately and now it looks like you are too. Do we really need to go on with this little charade, you reckon, or can you be regular?"

At this the thief let the far away expression fall from his eyes just after they had taken in Mercer and he did not like what he had seen.

"I suppose the depends on your definition of regular," he said through a charming smile that belied his mildly annoyed, but subdued tone.  His awkward, shaky movements melted slowly into smooth, cultured grace. Perhaps not perfectly in tune with this high a level of society, but not out of place either.

"We're in trouble," he continued in a voice just loud enough for her to hear as he nodded and smiled to the passersby. "The head of security? He's a big cut above the normal folk of his type.  We're genna have Hell with this excuse of a plan we've got goin'.  Get ready te think fast and act faster."

"This is gonna go over like a fart in church," he beamed to a gaudily dressed matron who would have lost her bejeweled hat pin if the situation weren't so dangerous already.

Bolin Babylon

The door that had closed, leaving Bolin in their room popped open again, and Oliver the bellhop backed out of the room, his lips caressed into a lazy smile and his clothes disheveled. "Wow." Was all he could manage before the door slammed in his face. The noise jolted him out of his revery and he decided to collect himself before Mr. Mercer saw his uniform so askew.

Inside the Room

Bolin stared at the outfits they had decided to bring for the event, with arms crossed and eyes unseeing. "Bored." They muttered, taking a drag on the cigarette that dangled precariously between fingertips. Three dresses, two gowns, two suits, four coats, and a smattering of other fashionable ephemera were scattered almost impressively about the room for the relatively short time in which Bolin had been a guest, especially having had the bellhop distraction. Bolin chewed a lip thoughtfully remembering Oliver's surprisingly toned biceps.

"Oh who cares?" They pouted, sticking the cigarette in between their lips and grabbing AN OUTFIT at random and disappearing behind the changing screen. As they changed, discretely despite the solitude they found in the room, Bolin considered what the hell they were doing there. Yolinda, publicist extraordinaire, had insisted they attend the wedding. Bolin didn't remember meeting whats-her-name but the tabloids assured the masses that it had happened. Yolinda, publicist very-much-ordinaire, said it would help Bolin's sagging stardom. That Bolin needed to make a public appearance, that's what the people wanted.

Bolin didn't care what the people wanted.

Bolin only cared for what Bolin wanted.

Dressed finally, Bolin wanted a drink, but one's makeup must be finished before being seen by one's public. "Light and fresh today. No eyeshadow or lipstick. Just some-" Bolin searched the bag again. A frustrated scream escaped their throat like a table scraping across a floor. No eyeliner in the bag. Yolinda would be hearing about this. With a sigh, Bolin stubbed out their cigarette and marched across the room and out the door. The corridor was empty, no one would see until they could find some help.

After a few minutes of frustrated, unanswered knocking at each door, they came to, Bolin decided (for the tenth time) that this would be the last door they would try. The fact that everyone who had been invited here would not be in their room had occurred to Bolin but desperate times call for desperate measures. They had ran into one maid, but she was very old and very basic and Bolin didn't like talking to the help if they didn't have to.

KNOCKNOCKNOCKNOCKNOCKNOCK

"Please if you're in there I need help!"
Dialogue Color - Crimson

Charity

The Conservatory

"I'll be honest, I'm not even sure he knows what he's about to say before the words are falling out of his mouth," he replied and Charity's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, a little breath slipping past perfectly pained lips along with some modicum of her stress.  

"Besides, look at them. Happy bride and groom to be. So far it doesn't look like seduction will be the right play," King continued, and she was inclined to agree with his observation. Even if they weren't happy, stepping in and attempting to seduce the man would not only cause some unnecessary feather ruffling, but would draw a loathsome amount of attention to herself when the jig was up, and she didn't want anyone looking at her too closely. A smile tugged at one corner of her lips at the thought of not wanting to be the center of attention.

"As for congratulating them, you lead I'll follow..."

Charity thoughtfully toyed with one of the macrons on their plate and pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful and her gaze focused. The sweet lifted, settling lightly against her bottom lip as she considered their options, gaze sliding curiously across the room until she spotted Grace attempting to melt into a wall. Again, one corner of her lips turned upward and she lowered the almond cookie from her mouth. A man eyeing the strawberries almost lustfully caught her attention. He was clean shaven, his hair pushed back in a perfect pompadour, with kind eyes and a crooked smile. Sure, there was likely something vastly wrong with him for him to be a guest here, but there was something wrong with all of them.

Setting the cookie down, Charity approached the food table once more, "Pardon me," she began in a gentle whisper, the kind that made one want to lean in closer just to hear whatever secrets it held. And lean in he did, brows aloft. "My companion came here to meet new and interesting people," she began, discretely pointing in Grace's direction, "and I couldn't help but notice just how charming and fascinating you are. It absolutely radiates off you, my dear," she flattered, batting her lashes up at the man. "Don't you think it would be positively splendid if you asked my companion for a dance? You would make quite a handsome couple, why, someone of your esteemed position with such a talented and renowned doctor..." she added, her brows raised curiously, her head shaking side to side as if such a blessed and advantageous coupling had never before been heard of. The man looked past her toward the wallflower and nodded a little. If she was at this party, she was wealthy and well connected, which warranted a look-see and more than likely a dance. Once he'd left her to head in the doctor's direction, Charity returns to King's side. "Now we congratulate," she murmured, giggling softly, mischief in her voice.

With her arms once again wrapped around his, both the epitome of a doting wife and the inner need to feel safe in this den of piranhas, the debutante led them toward the man and woman of honor, skirts rustling pleasantly and jewelry twinkling. Her shoulders rolled back, spine straightened, and chin lifted just so. "Ainsworth, dearest, it really has been too long. Your estate is just as splendid as always. Such a jewel!" she praised, knowing, however, that too much attention on him would rile up his bride. So she turned, her hand still extended with palm facing down toward the man of the house, rings glimmering in the light of the conservatory. "And my darling, you look simply exquisite. I'm so glad we were able to meet again, and on such a joyous occasion. Truly you humbled me with your invitation," she crooned softly.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

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