Blood from Stone [AU]

[Bethany]

If you had just let Dad help you back then we... Ugh. No. Party, no moping or retreading old pains. "Yeah. Anyway. Baby party. Did... oh, hold on!" Twisting a little, she waves in a manner that would cause Coquette to wince on how... unrefined it was. "Don! Ari! Over here."

[Marian Hawke]

Liz nods. "I was thinking fairy cakes for the race reveal, with cute little spun-sugar cat decorations on top for catfolk," she begins, sitting back to close her eyes as she pictures it.

Beth's baby party is going to be perfect, if I have anything to say about it.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Coquette Blacquin would have been the belle of the ball. In this dress? In this role? She'd have glittered across the dance floor, flirting and laughing, doing her very best to attract the sort of male attention she saw as the only path to security in life. 

Cindy Black, however, is nowhere to be seen. She's barely put in an appearance at her own party, so focused is she on making sure everything goes smoothly. She's found a missing bowstring, rejected puff pastry that looked a bit too underbaked to be safe and had the kitchen remake it, oversaw a last minute pie emergency, and now was defusing a situation involving what appeared to be quickly becoming a duel.

"Gentlemen, please," she says, placing a hand on each of their arms. "I am sorry to inform you both, but this piece is not for sale." Anymore. "zi'Rainbowall, I believe there is a piece just through those doors that may interest you more? I recall your fondness for elven works."

[NPCs]

"I-" The noble takes a long breath, then nods curtly. "You are very correct in your recollection, Lady za'Smith. And my apologies for that unseemly display. Most unbecoming of me."

The other worthy who had been competing with the bidding snorts. "Not for sale, mmmh? Likely story. Bah." What else should I have expected in a party thrown by some upstart moneylender and his gaggle of mongrels. And to have the party run by... well.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Think nothing of it. I am familiar with your support of the Guard -- my mother's dear friend, Captain Vallen, has made me aware of your generous contributions, and I know therefore that you are a man of class and distinction." and if you really feel guilty, that's where you can send the gold to make amends.

"But, forgive me, I wished to ask zi'Oathspeaker about a matter -- I understand you have convinced the famous Troupe del'Commedia to include Nyra in their tour? I had no idea you were such a patron of the arts -- pray, tell me how you managed it, if I may be so bold?" 

[NPCs]

Oathspeaker sniffs. "Well... I suppose it would not hurt. You see, del'Commedia was originally founded by Laurence Whisperwind, a tortured soul, truly, but a peerless talent you can be assured. And, of course, he instilled in the troupe his own values and sense of obligations. He was born..."

[Shannon zi'Marass]

Five minutes later, Cindy finally manages to dump Oathspeaker off with Wild Daenis, a powerful druid visiting Nyra. She might almost feel guilty about inflecting the tedious, pompous and almost fanatical elf on the druid but... she'd just spent five minutes with Oathspeaker and she's no stranger to guilt. As Cindy begins yet another patrol of the ballroom to ensure things are going well, she spots a cluster of partygoers all focused on something out of sight. With a purely mental sigh, the merikos drow heads towards it, praying zi'Rainbowall hasn't found someone else to duel already. When she finally gets a glimpse of what everyone is paying such rapt attention to, she's just as dumbfounded as nearly everyone else is.

Grace. Elegance. Control. Passion. Beauty.

A woman- and even despite the whirling and twirling, even at a slight distance and with a few people in the way, there's no mistaking that figure as anything but feminine- and man, dancing. No, more than that. Not just dancing. No, the pair that Cindy continues to politely force her way forward to see are worshipping Ciren and Astea both with an explosive demonstration of skill and ability. A part of Cindy's mind would supply the fact that the dance is a Glalian waltz that has been heavily modified with some strong influences from the tribal plains orcs' version of the tango. She sees the man's face first and recognizes him instantly. After all, he was one of her greatest coups in regards to accepted invites- Lord Panis zi'Ulthlis. Naturally wearing his signature outfit, his nod to the theme is not on his clothing but instead his hair, which has been either glamoured or transfigured into shimmering black crystal. His dance partner...

Dirty blond hair bobs and flares across bare shoulders and arms of pale alabaster skin.  It's hard to see more of her, to see details, as she gleams and shines from neck to ankles thanks to her rapid movements and the strong lighting. It's not until the dance finishes, with Panis dipping the lady deeply, that Cindy can get a clean look. Her face is hidden in the moment, but her body... well. Her lush, flawless body is very much visible. Her dress, if one can call it that, is a sheath of flowing smokey crystal that is mostly opaque. One can see the shape of her body when the light is not shining off the dress, almost a shadow hidden by mist or fog, but no details. Then Panis ifts the woman back up to her feet, both of them breathing heavily, faces flushed, and...

Shannon? Shan? Cindy steps back, movements sharp and jerky in her shock. Thinking to flee before Shannon could recognize her, she hears a stunned, "Co? Is that- Co?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

No it damn well is not. She taps her ear, sending pale blond streaks through her silver-white hair, dulling her eyes to a blue-violet, subtly changing her cheekbones. She doesn't react to the name, turning instead to calmly walk back into the stairwell, trying to seem unhurried until she's out of view. Think you were seeing things. Go back to your dancing. There's no part of my life that's for you, not anymore. Shan... I should have known, I was a blind idiot. zi'Marassi, of course. I never could get it right as a girl -- zee marcy, I used to say. 

[Shannon zi'Marass]

Behind her she can hear a far too familiar voice curse at someone sharply, utterly uncaring of manners or even civility. And then the sound of someone rushing, almost running, in heels towards her. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! 

She slips down the steps, then, whisking into the lower catacombs, ducking into a side reading room. One with a heavy, sound-dampening door. 

She stands beside the door, waiting, intending to slam it shut as soon as Shannon's inside. Just until I can explain without her giving everything away.

[Shannon zi'Marass]

Shannon is only a few seconds behind her. "Dammit girl, when I-" She cuts off as she doesn't see Cindy from the doorway. "Where did you..." Scowling, she steps inside, curses again, then starts forward across the room to the door there further in. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

She slams the door shut, knowing the other door is well locked to preserve the tomes inside. At the same time, she lets her appearance revert.

"Hello, Shan," she says quietly, holding her head high. 

[Shannon zi'Marass]

The merikos aasimar whirls in place, a faint vibration much like shivering glass filling the room for a second. She stares at Cindy, her already fair skin paling even more. "Co?" The name is a whisper, filled with stunned disbelief. "I... I went to your funeral. How..?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Don't ask questions if you don't want answers," she says, evenly. "And don't use that name. Not here, not now. Coquette Blacquin is dead."

[Shannon zi'Marass]

Her complexion stays an unhealthy white, but spots of color appear on her cheeks and her eyes flare with temper. "If I-" She takes a step forward, hands tightening to claws and rising slightly. "I had to beg on my knees to come to your funeral. I paid-" Her stomach churns at the price to attend and she pushes it away. "I paid thousands to try and figure out how you died. Do not tell me I do not want to know, Co."