| Logs |
2011 January 25
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Taps Logs |
La Kitsune
Madame de Cygne's ball was to celebrate the Ballet du Reynard and their prima ballerina's triumphant performance in the premiere of La Kitsune. Sna'thaid received her invitation as soon as the caravaneers checked in at their normal point outside St. Louis -- being in the middle of the continent the way it was, the city served as a natural nexus for communication. Since the invitation declared Plus One, or two or three if you've a mind; we want to celebrate this joyous occasion in true Unseelie style, she had offered to take both Chanticleer and her godsdaughter along.Sna'thaid obtained tickets for the ballet as well; Sulochana went with the two sidhe to watch the dance. The rooster sidhe was hesitant at first, until Sna'thaid explained it was to be a masked ball -- and Madame de Cygne was about as likely to turn him over to the sidhe authorities as she was to voluntarily go into a nunnery.
The ballet was a new work by a very respected composer and choreographer. The costumes were an oddly inspired mix of old Silk Islands styles and ballet styles. The sweeping sleeves of the kimono-like garments whirled and flickered with the dancers' movements, creating a visually intoxicating layer to the dance. The music was joyous and had trills and ripples in it that sang of laughter as Inari, the prima ballerina, leapt and swirled through the story of the trickster kitsune and her antics, fooling humans and spirits alike.
For his part, Chanticleer spent the largest part of the performance entranced by the lead dancer. The amount of mischief and appeal she showed so naturally with her dancing was intriguing to the sidhe and he smiled to himself, feeling a surge of amorous interest. A rooster considering seducing a woman that pretended to be a fox was amusing to him. The audience called for three curtain calls, and excited laughter and chatter carried the patrons away to their homes or to their after-parties.
Madame de Cygne's ball was a glittering wonder of glamours and decoration, the walls hung with silken crepe de chine and actual silk, with billows of silver and white being the primary colors. Here and there was also a drape or swag of deepest blue-black or scarlet red to celebrate the Ballet du Reynard's triumphant premiere. It was not a royal ball, however, and so glamour was somewhat de rigeur for those of the fae persuasion who were invited to attend.
The Lady Sna'thaid Mho'r had costumed herself as a winged, serpentine, Eastern dragon, punning on both her sidhe clan and the supernatural family she is most closely associated with. She is delighting in the attentions she is receiving from the braver of the handsome gentlemen present tonight.
At Sna'tha's fondly proud urgings, Suraksha had costumed herself in a play on her newly gifted Name from Bringer: "Woman of the Fiery Kiss." Consequently she is introducing herself only as Xopuchmata, and is dressed as a fire elemental. Snug black leather boots and gloves, with flame patterns swirling along her limbs, are buckled about her upper arms and thighs. The body suit is a gorgeous, dancing melange of flame colors: scarlet, burgundy, ruby, carnelian, maroon, burnt umber, carmine, orange, cerise, amber, gold, cinnabar -- while the full-face, bone-ash-white mask is curiously expressionless. Springing wildly from its upper edge, however, and falling to just about her upper thighs, is a thick artificial mane of shimmering dreadlocks in fiery colors as well. They are beaded and glittering with tiny fragments of mirrors and other shining bits of metal, providing the occasional provocative glimpse of her small derriere as her hips sway mesmerizingly while walking or dancing.
Xopuchmata is enjoying herself tremendously -- she's not here as a Hetaera, so she doesn't have to manage anyone's enjoyment but her own tonight! Her expressionlessly blank mask is slightly forbidding, which means the simple and the drunk tend to veer away from her without realizing why -- another level of crowd management she needn't concern herself with in the least. Her bubbling laughter, lithe and slender form, dramatic costume, and clear enjoyment of the evening are keeping her from having to struggle for partners, however. She's dancing just as much as her heart desires, saying yes or no when she wishes, and not having to stick with any particular person. She is, in fact, having a gloriously good time!
Earlier, three masked entities had joined the ball: three men who arrived together and stayed somewhat within eyesight of each other. One was a tall and dashing pirate with an eager -- almost hungry -- demeanor, accompanied by a resigned and broad-shouldered Roman soldier with dark skin, and a somewhat nervous-seeming man dressed as a Greek satyr.
Interestingly, while the pirate seemed anxious to flirt with just about every woman there, the Roman did nothing more than quietly follow him around -- which put an unwitting damper on the pirate's attempts with the ladies. That, coupled with the fact he was clearly human and utterly unaware of the delicate and convoluted intricacies of Court, meant many of the fey ladies present simply weren't interested. Had he been looking for anything more than staying by the drinks table and getting cheerfully tipsy, the satyr would have had better luck than the pirate, at this party.
King Roy of Baton Rouge had agreed to the negotiations in St. Louis only reluctantly, not wishing to leave his city. Admittedly, Mary has excellent people to help her at home now, but Roy had been nursing the faint hope that Sulochana might turn up there sometime soon. Consequently he'd been almost ordered off to St. Louis by Pierce, who insisted more of St. Louis' famously pure medical supplies were in critical need in Baton Rouge, and the alliance with the king of St. Louis needed to be tended and maintained -- especially since the Warlord of Houston had been getting rather... covetous lately.
Things have not gone well at all for poor Roy on this trip: the young lady he'd intended to bring with him to St. Louis had had to disembark the very day of departure due to a sickness in the family, Sulochana had not turned up in either city as he'd been hoping, the king of St. Louis had been called away to a border town insurrection just before Roy's arrival several days ago... and now the negotiations in St. Louis with the king's representatives are of a stultifyingly boring nature to the active and restless king. Not having a pretty young lady with him to smooth over his occasional more... exasperated outbursts -- and being what is locally considered a 'roue' for his lack of interest in marrying his 'conquests' -- the king of Baton Rouge has not endeared himself so far to the very "old school" St. Louis nobility.
When Roy's newest guard, a young werewolf, had received the invitations to the sidhe ball three days earlier, Roy had nearly pounced on the excuse to go out and have fun. The werewolf hadn't really wanted to go -- Roy knew it was due to something or other about "Unceiling" or "Unseeing" politics -- but since it wasn't near the full moon, the king had cheerfully insisted despite the young man's trepidation. Surely amongst the non-humans the king would have more luck!
Jacko knew the signs by now, of course, but unfortunately while there were a very few local Hetaerae in St. Louis, Roy had indignantly refused that possibility -- he already had a preferred Hetaera, thanks very much, and he wasn't about to pay for second best! Jacko had sighed resignedly and done his best to make sure the king was at least well disguised and well-guarded.
Unfortunately this party is also not turning out so well for the frustrated king. Roy doesn't know why his usual gambits aren't working at all here; all he knows is he desperately wishes to coax one of these beauties to return to his paddleboat with him tonight -- and no one seems at all interested! He's starting to think he'd even welcome Sna'tha's acerbic humor just now... if she'd just take him home with her afterwards.
Roy sighs gloomily over a drink, studying the swirling, laughing throng and wondering what he's doing wrong -- but at Jacko's hopeful suggestion that they call it a night, the king straightens with determination. Certainly not! He's just begun to party! He gulps down the last of his drink, then doggedly heads out again, putting on his most roguish demeanor and trying even harder.
The ballet troupe had invitations to several celebrations that night, and most of them make Madame de Cygne's their last stop. By that time the party had been in fully swing for at least an hour and is bidding fair to go down in social history as one of de Cygne's most successful. The music is lively, the conversation absorbing, and the company charming. Inari's entrance causes a concerted cheer and several calls of "Brava!" "Biene!" and other such accolades. The dancer is still high on the endorphins of a triumphant performance and she greets her admirers with hugs and handshakes and fetching tosses of her head.
She wears a costume that echoes the one she wore on stage: an elaborate spangled fox half-mask conceals eyes and nose; and a large, fluffy fox tail which she drapes over her arm along with the train of her long gown. Her petite body is lithe and muscular, athletic in a very feminine way. Her skin is creamy white and her exposed shoulders and the tops of her breasts are sprinkled with russet freckles.
Chanticleer is dressed in shimmering reds, greens, and blue-blacks with a long-nosed, elaborate masquerade mask and long-pointed red and gold boots. A mane of long black hair springs from the mask and trails down his back. It is enough like his old armor and his unglamoured form that there is an extra rooster-ish strut in his step. It has been noticed by several folk at the party, and he has had no shortage of dance- or conversation-partners. The moment Inari arrives, however, he is rather single-minded in making his way over to her.
Before he can introduce himself Inari turns too quickly from another conversation, laughing and cheerily bumping full-on into Chanticleer, forcing him to catch her before she falls. Her hands go out, steadying herself on his biceps, and her eyes meet his. Behind the mask her bright eyes are a deep, amberish brown. In her surprise, however, she drops her tail from her arm -- and Chanticleer catches the flick of its tip before she scoops it back over her arm.
The tail is real! Chanticleer is holding in his arms either a foxish sidhe or an actual kitsune, as in the ballet! The surge of interest comes back even more strongly and that idea of a rooster pursuing a fox kindles a sort of fire the sidhe has not been indulging much of late.
"My lady," he smiles down to her, bowing over her hand with a flourish and glancing up into her eyes. He makes sure she meets his gaze and has time to notice his unglamoured eyes. The delight in her face is obvious and she slips her hand through his arm when he offers it.
"Thank you for the assist earlier. You'd think a ballerina ought to be more graceful, wouldn't you?" she asks, a grin on her face, with its delicately pointed chin. The brush of freckles is dusted over her throat and cheeks as well.
Chanticleer laughed and says, "You were surprised, my Lady. I apologize for startling you." He smiles and says, perhaps a bit daringly, "Though I do not find myself sorry to have had you and your lovely thick tail stumble into my arms."
Inari is momentarily wary, but then remembers the distinctly non-human eyes which had looked up at her just a moment ago. She giggles softly and tips her head toward him, saying sotto voce, "I normally try to stay in full glamour in public. It somehow seems to add to my general reputation to be seen as an exquisitely graceful human rather than simply a nicely talented sidhe." Her eyes crinkle through the eye holes of the mask in such a way as to indicate a wrinkling of her nose in a show of self-deprecation.
Chanti's smile becomes a touch mischievous. "Surely not merely 'nicely' talented," he says warmly. "You are exquisite -- both on stage and in person."
The ballerina laughs and tips her head, causing some of the deep russet hair piled atop her head to spill across one shoulder in a coppery wave. "And you are certainly off to a lovely high place in my estimation so far, kind sir. I am Inari, as I suspect you know." Chanticleer agrees with a smile that he does indeed know. With just a mild hesitation he introduces himself as Chanticleer Flecherouge. It is not his true name, but it incorporates one of his actual names and his nom du guerre without betraying either. Inari covers her chest with the tip of her tail and laughs, "The Red Arrow? Shall I fear for my life?"
The invitation is nigh irresistible; the rooster sidhe leans down to murmur close to her pearl-bedecked ear, "Perhaps not for your life, but mayhap your virtue."
The small woman's breath catches and she flushes. It shows prettily on her shoulders and throat as she lowers her voice in kind, interest whispering through her tone, "Oh, but what delightful fear that might be, Monsieur La Fleche, were it not already long absconded with!" There is about her a scent of powder and musk and just a bit of alcohol. She does not seem impaired, but perhaps just a bit more expansive than normal.
All over the room envious eyes watch Chanticleer. Without either of the twosome really speaking of it, they make their way to the dance floor. The dancing is far different from the ballet, having more of a lively and free-form feel to it. There are percussion instruments, several woodwinds, and a piano; the musicians seem to be mostly human, aside from the slender woman playing the clarinet.
It is clear Inari is as taken with the male sidhe as he is with her. She smiles up at him beneath her mask and asks, "You are sidhe? A bird, I think, from your eyes."
Chanticleer agrees and when she asks him what sort of bird he laughs, leaning in to whisper to her, "I am a cockerel." The emphasis he puts on the first syllable is almost imperceptible, and he brushes his fingers along the nape of her neck as he says it, subtly linking the syllable to the pleasant touch.
Inari colors again and says, "Oh, my. Normally it is the fox stalking the rooster."
The banter is making Chanticleer bolder and more cheerful, "Well, lovely lady, sometimes the rooster must get revenge."
From there the conversation is quite lively. They manage, through the banter and flirtation, for Chanti to explain he is here with a friend and has work as a scout and guard. He does not mention with whom he is employed nor that it is with a caravan. The spark of interest both the sidhe felt upon meeting slowly and deliciously flickers into a candle flame, and then gradually smolders up from there. Over several hours the both of them, quite without meaning to, very thoroughly ignore everyone else at the party. There are a few admirers of the dancer whose feelings are a bit bruised, and Sulochana and Sna'thaid are affectionately amused as they watch their companion in a milieu they have not seen him in before.
The cockerel finds he is rather enjoying making this lovely vixen creature flush and catch her breath at his playful insinuations. They do not even notice when the first guests filter out, too caught up in dancing and murmuring to one another. The party is still meant to run for hours more when Inari asks in a trembling, eager voice, "Do you have quarters close by, Chanticleer?"
Chanti, who had been considering just where he could take her to have a bit of privacy, finds himself saying with perfect confidence, "My local quarters would not allow us enough room to truly enjoy ourselves. Take me to your rooms, sweet vixen. We will make several of your admirers quite jealous when they hear of us slipping through the lobby together."
Inari nods mutely and then manages to get out the name of her hotel. It is the most eminent in the city, "The troupe's owner has given me one of their best suites. Plenty of room. For many types of fun..." She glances down and away, a bit surprised at how easily and how heatedly their flirtation has come to the mutual agreement that they will be spending the night together. The ballerina is not normally quite so wanton, but she too finds she's intrigued by this confident and graceful pursuer.
Chanticleer excuses himself long enough to speak with Sulochana and Sna'thaid. He lets them know in discreet terms that he has developed other plans for lodging that night and will meet them back at the caravan in the morning, if they feel they will be safe on their own. Sna'thaid laughs and says, "I believe we can defend ourselves, Chanticleer. Enjoy your conquest's company."
Chanticleer grins and says, "She isn't my conquest." He thinks, but does not say, 'Yet.' Instead he explains, "Miss Inari is simply a quite beautiful and skilled woman who has agreed to let me escort her home."
Sulochana laughs too, golden eyes twinkling, and shoos him off, "Enjoy her company then, Chanti. We will see you in the morning if you do not come home tonight."
While the rooster sidhe is gone, several of the well-wishers and admirers who had been cut off by the magnetic concentration of the vixen and the cockerel are pressing close to give Inari their compliments and attempt their own wooing gambits. She is sweet and charming and quite thoroughly holds all of them off with demurrals until Chanticleer returns. Once he does, they depart together. Had he a real tail, Chanti's would be flaring out to show off his very best colors.
They maintain a good fiction of propriety all the way through the ballroom and lobby: they stay the requisite distance apart, her hand resting on his elbow, as they walk. She keeps her gaze forward, though she does occasionally glance up, trying to get a good peek beneath Chanticleer's mask. Once they're out in the street he laughs at that and says, "Oh, and now you start to wonder who you've invited home." When Inari flushes and glances away, albeit with a little smile, the rooster sidhe leans down to murmur near one soft-furred ear, "I give you my solemn word, little vixen, you'll be safe in my hands. As safe as you wish to be, in any case."
Inari swallows and laughs, holding her chin up, "You do not smell of true danger, good sir. You do smell of need and of leather. Like a warrior. Soldier, perhaps, or bodyguard." Her voice is musing as she says, "Knight, maybe, but I would swear I know all the knights at the courts."
Chanticleer laughs it off and says, "Well, let us strike a bargain, milady. I will unmask at midnight. If you wish to see my face before then," he tips his head, looking up and off into the distance as he considers an alternative, "hmm... then you will have to fulfill three commands perfectly for the next ninety minutes."
They are passing the large clock-tower in the town's center, and it is just nine o'clock. She can wait three hours, or an hour and a half with this bargain. Her eyes flash with interest at the wager and she shifts to walk a little closer than public etiquette would warrant. "One hour," she counters, lips slightly parted. It's clear she's enjoying this game they're playing.
Chanti considers carefully, or seems to. Bargaining with the vixen is somewhat intoxicating as it becomes more and more clear she is just as eager for this assignation as is he. "An hour, then. But you must execute the commands exactly."
Inari's smile is proud, but she's working hard to let him know she's enjoying his deliciously toppish behavior, "I am a prima ballerina, sir. One does not command such a title if one cannot take direction."
The rooster sidhe lets his arm slide around her waist as they pass through a dim side street to a private entrance for the hotel in which the dancer is lodged. "I do like the sound of that word: Sir. When you address me from now on, sweet dancer, you will call me Sir. Let that be command number one."
Inari catches her breath and flushes, but then she says, "I am willing to accept that... Sir."
A flash of smile is visible under the mask as Chanticleer says, "Very good. Let us get to your quarters and we shall discuss the other two." Inari nods and then flushes more deeply as she realizes she is flustered enough that she has to search her small purse for her key.
The climb to her quarters is easy for the two of them and provides several opportunities for moments of breathless teasing on landings and stairways. Inari's slit-pupiled eyes are growing dilated with every repetition of Sir, and Chanticleer can hear the slight emphasis which indicates she sees the word as capitalized in her mind. He never lets his hands stray to any place on her body that is not covered by cloth, knowing she'd rather have him caressing her skin. That will come soon enough.
Once they have made it to her suite and the door is safely closed, she turns to him, face tipped upward. Her arms come up to wrap around his neck and Chanticleer catches her wrists, twisting them gently behind her back, "You may not touch me with your hands. That's rule number two." He leans in close and his breath flutters along her neck as he lays down the third rule, "You may not climax before the hour is up. If you hold out for that hour, sweet pet, then you may see my face before midnight."
Inari does not mean to whimper. In fact, she is not aware she has until Chanticleer laughs, soft and inviting against her skin, "I suspect I'll be winning this wager if you're already making such wonderful sounds."
Well after Chanticleer had left Madame de Cygne's ball, the party is still in full swing. It is a magnificent affair, as far as lovely young Xopuchmata is concerned: lit with hundreds of candles, in a graceful and large enough hall to keep the sweet scented flowers filling the air, with the lilting music making it hard for her small feet to hold still. When she needs a moment to rest, the conversations are fascinating and the flirtation delightfully scintillating.
It is, in fact, during one of those rare breathers that a few of the group of elegant entities she's standing with are giggling quietly over the human who is trying too hard. Xopuchmata looks over with some sympathy, smiling faintly behind the mask, and holds her ground as the poor man heads their way. Most of the group scatters like a flock of brilliantly plumaged birds heading for the dance floor, but Xopuchmata stays, wondering idly who was so mean-spirited as to bring and then abandon a human here. When one of the more stolid, still-remaining supernaturals in the little group gravely introduces the pirate to them all, she nods in silent courtesy -- then blinks in shock as she hears the pirate speak: she knows that voice and accent!
The pirate gives her hardly a glance as he offers sweeping bows to the few other ladies present. To his culturally-trained gaze, the slight, flame-bright figure is so boyishly slim, and (unlike most of the daringly glamour-enhanced ladies present) wearing so completely covering an outfit, as to not appear female. That causes Xopuchmata to grin wickedly and decide to tease him some in revenge!
She smiles behind the mask when one of the gentlemen coughs and pointedly introduces the pirate to the lady he missed, simply offering her small, leather-gloved hand so the pirate can offer his apologies as he hastily bows to her as well. She gives a gracious nod when he asks her (somewhat reluctantly) to dance, and is perfectly proper and correct throughout.
By the time the dance is over, however, Xopuchmata knows quite clearly what it is Roy is trying to do tonight -- and also that he's going about it completely wrong for the tastes of the non-human elites present. That's fine with her, though. She's quite happy to be the one to accompany Roy back to his paddleboat tonight -- even if he doesn't yet know she'll be his companion for the evening!
When Sna'tha hears that news a short while later she laughs, shaking her head a bit and smiling at her godsdaughter as she observes that whomever brought the poor man should be spanked! Xopuchmata laughs and urges Sna'tha to feel free to depart with the elegant fae gentleman she's been dancing and flirting with. She needn't worry about her godsdaughter being alone; Xopuchmata won't be for long! She has a pirate unwittingly waiting for her. That causes Sna'tha to laugh again... but eventually, after a hug and a warning to her godsdaughter to remain alert and wary regardless, she too heads contentedly off for the evening on the arm of her sidhe gentleman suitor.
Xopuchmata has had a wonderful time so far at the ball due to the scintillating company. Now she enjoys herself thoroughly by teasing her lover! Her first step is to wait until there's a pause in the music, and she's in a large and camouflaging group of other masked entities. As Roy stands, drink in hand, on the far side of the dance floor, the young woman raises her voice -- as planned ahead of time in her conversational nattering -- in a snatch of song. It rings out pure and clear and laughingly lighthearted above the soft murmur of the many flirting, laughing courtiers:
"I see a bad moon arisin'!
I see trouble on the way!"
The result is dramatic. Roy does a double-take so sharp he almost spills his drink -- he knows that voice! He heads immediately and eagerly for the little collection of entities, but by the time he's navigated dancers and strolling courtiers, they've all scattered into other groupings. No one he questions seems to know who or what he's talking about, or even wish to talk with him in some cases. The king is left frustrated and confused -- did he actually hear Sulochana singing? He starts pacing the large hall, studying the women present and searching for a small, gorgeously caparisoned woman in a ballgown or tiger stripes... or perhaps in belly dancing attire?
Once her pirate has started actively hunting for her, Xopuchmata moves to her next step of mischief: she makes sure her brilliant costume repeatedly shimmers at the edge of his vision -- although whenever he looks her way she's either laughingly deep in conversation with others, or swaying lithe as a flame in the arms of her current dance partner.
Xopuchmata is surreptitiously observing him as well when he's not looking her way, and she's picked out Jacko and the satyr as his companions... as well as the handful or so of Unseelie who're starting to become annoyed with the rather obsessed human occasionally unwittingly interrupting them. She waits until the point when Roy aggravatedly asks the slightly tipsy werewolf, "Why won't they talk t' me, Guy? What am I doin' wrong?!"
The supernatural shakes his head ruefully, leaning on the table as he mumbles, "Unseelie, man. Too sneaky; can't trust 'em." He's just drunk enough by now to miss the irony of his being one as well.
Xopuchmata slips up close to the three men, whispering to keep her voice unrecognizable as she answers Roy's aggrieved query, "You're human."
The words come out sounding more eerie than she'd intended -- almost threatening -- and Jacko's eyes narrow in his helmet as he shifts his weight slightly to a more combat-ready position. The werewolf, Guy, straightens abruptly, alarm in his slit-pupiled gaze, but Roy simply turns and stares at the slight, brilliant figure, growling exasperatedly, "What's that s'pposed to mean?!"
Guy reaches a hand out for Roy, hastily murmuring something about respect, and the king impatiently sidesteps him and adds, "Zoopoo- the lady Ksowpoosh... er, Lady, yes." He sketches a quick bow, still staring aggravatedly down at the smaller entity. Jacko looks worried; Guy looks like he's going to be sick to his stomach at the apparent insolence.
Xopuchmata steps lightly around Roy and stands in front of Guy, her movements swift and smooth as flame; her voice a soft, angry hiss, "Are you responsible for bringing -- and abandoning! -a human to Madame de Cygne's ball?!"
The much bigger werewolf hastily backs up until the table hits him from behind; he's shockingly sober now! He gulps, raising his hands in clear surrender as he gabbles, "No! Er, I mean yes, but- but no, great lady, it was him! He insisted on coming! I did not wish to, believe me!" Xopuchmata doesn't move -- just stares coldly up at the taller man she's effectively pinned against the table, and he wails quietly, "My lady, he's my boss -- my liege! What was I supposed to do?!"
Jacko's eyes are dark and inscrutable as he studies the aggressive, tiny fey woman and the much larger -- and startlingly frightened -- supernatural man. He steps cautiously a bit closer to Roy, trying to get between his king and this fiery, apparently quite dangerous entity. For his part, Roy looks utterly befuddled -- he's seen Guy simultaneously take on up to three men, each his weight or more! Now the werewolf is clearly terrified by someone no bigger than a minute -- by what looks like a prepubescent girl -- who barely reaches his chest! It's like a lightbulb goes on in Roy's head, and he says slowly, "Are the Unseelie women all that dangerous?!"
Without breaking their tight-locked stare at each other, both Guy and Xopuchmata flatly growl or hiss at the exact same time, "Yes!"
Roy blinks, and Xopuchmata has to stifle a laugh behind the all-concealing mask. She glances at Roy and Jacko, then back at the werewolf, "Time to leave. All of you."
Jacko simply nods once, turning to make sure the way is clear; Guy looks like he may faint with relief. Roy, however, says indignantly, "Oh, now hold on-!" -- but before he can even finish the sentence Jacko, Guy, and Xopuchmata all glare at him, each saying in their own way, "Now!"
Roy is hustled off by both guards, not quite pouting, with Xopuchmata leading the way. She's seen enough people starting to frown at the very culturally-out-of-place king that she wants to be careful he does indeed safely exit the premises -- plus she intends to go home with him! Both bodyguards stare in worried confusion at her when she calmly gets into the carriage with Roy, and the king growls, "I'm goin', I'm goin'! Christ, I don't need a nanny!"
Xopuchmata simply stares at him for a long moment... then grins behind the mask and sings quietly and teasingly:
"Don't go 'round tonight!
Well, it's bound to take your life...
There's a bad moon on the rise!"
Roy's eyes widen in shocked recognition, "Cherie?!" as the werewolf stiffens, wondering if that song snippet was a subtle Unseelie warning. Jacko sighs gustily and relaxes at the delighted giggle that is Roy's answer, closing the carriage door as his king laughingly scoops up the smaller woman in an exuberant hug. Guy looks utterly confused, but follows Jacko as the Captain waves him down and mutters (with a touch of amusement) something about pranksters and kings deserving each other.
Also at the ball that night was a broad-shouldered man in a beautiful full-face leather horse mask. His tastefully decorated leather tack bared an invitingly alluring amount of skin, and included leather "hooves" for both hands and feet, as well as a lovely and flowing mane and tail in midnight black, braided with tiny silver bells on colorful silk ribbons. Unlike the king of Baton Rouge, this gentleman knew full well how to behave at an Unseelie ball.
At one point he'd even carefully started the delicate minuet of flirtatious courtship with the small, fiery elemental -- but he'd rapidly understood she was not hunting that night. He'd had a few lovely dances with her, flirted a bit for the heated pleasure of her attention and conversation, then fetched her a drink in thanks. He'd have gladly left with her had she evinced any permission to continue. Since she did not, the sturdily built man had moved on in his search, and left (relatively contentedly) in the train of a different fey lady that night.
No one at the ball knew who was behind the horse-headed mask, but then there were many there -- if not most -- who kept their identities hidden. Were it not for his excellent sense of smell, and the fortuitous accident of having come upon Xopuchmata while she chatted familiarly with the dread Lady Mho'r, it is possible the horse-man would have never subsequently recognized the young woman.
The king of St. Louis was, in fact, quite startled a year or so later -- and then fascinatedly intrigued -- when the realization of Xopuchmata's true identity slowly dawned on him. What were a strikingly beautiful supernatural Hetaera, and arguably one of the most renown assassins of the past century, doing passing themselves off as human, working for a simple, dirty caravan?! True, it was a famous caravan -- one of the tiny handful that traveled cross-continent -- but why work so hard, and in such a dangerous profession, when it wasn't really necessary?
Being no fool, King Eacharn did not reveal his realization; instead he congratulated himself on his decision to hire this caravan and no other as his guarding escort down the Big Muddy to negotiate with the king of Baton Rouge. King Roy was having... issues with the aggressively militaristic Warlord of Houston; as a primarily trading city, Baton Rouge had no real army or city defenses, and so was calling on old allies, including St. Louis, to come to its aid. While the king of St. Louis was relatively new to the throne -- the old Queen had died but five years ago, having fortunately made sure power passed smoothly and peacefully to her trusted consort -- he was more than happy to respect her former treaties and alliances.
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