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Mistress Material (Sedna)

Definitely not the fun loving spitfire she had sided with on a pirate ship.

She took to hovering near a wall again as Chauvet shot away, trying to escape the crowd that had gathered around her, and pale brows furrowed, briefly. She wasn't certain what she could do for the Squire, and in the middle of a party was no where to try and press for conversation to get to the root of the matter. She quietly observed as Doe approached Chauvet again and spoke to her, and she was about to leave it at that except---

She caught the Squire's eye. There was no mistaking the look, and with a soft spot she had developed from a wonderful first impression, she was compelled. Doe left the Squire, and for a moment, there was an open window. She moved from the wall, carefully sliding between people who were in the Gallery to make her way back to the Squire's side. Miss came up to Chauvet once more, and this time, just stood at her side companionably.

"What can I do to help you tonight, hm, Dreamboat?" She asked.

The Outsider

"Likely," the Outsider said. A Cosmos wonder would attract Cosmos knights, or at least that made sense to him. The idea didn't make him fidgety as it might have done a handful of years ago. "Is not--" His mouth started to say Hvergelmir. He intended to say Hvergelmir. What came out of his mouth was "--Haricotverts--"

He cut off, scowling and consternated. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say. He tried again: "Charosets." No. "Hamtaro?" ********, he didn't even know what that was. The Outsider (though one couldn't see his face to know it) frowned. He didn't like when magic got in the way of the things he wanted to say; it reminded him all too much of his time in the Negaverse.

Speaking of the hors d'oeurves, there was the Angel's roommate now. The Outsider gestured, and then froze. There was someone familiar across the room, though he didn't think he could've placed the name if he wanted to. "Go speak with ********> Your roommate. I will be fine over here." 'Over here,' he said, but once he'd seen the Angel on her way he took a deep breath and crossed the room to the stranger.

"Gee, stranger," he said, having learned many memes from the Angel, "The barkeep allows you two glasses?" The Outsider only got the one.

The Angel (Teide)

The Angel was not particularly experienced with drinking, young as she was, and she could not say for certain whether the champagne was unusual or not. Surely she expected it to be magical, for most things on wonders were, but magical how...?

Beside her, the Outsider seemed to be having a stroke. The Angel patted his arm good-naturedly, for she understood what it was he was trying to say and who he was trying to indicate. As she crossed the room, she was distantly aware that the Outsider had also departed from their prior location, but she did not move to follow him with her eyes at that time.

Things were happening. It was like a glamour had been lifted, and she was beginning to see the gallery for what it truly was, or what it could truly be. The hall seemed more crowded, but only when she wasn't directly looking at the crowd.

And for a moment, she thought she saw... Someone, but Teide turned away too quickly to get a good look. It seemed like a bad idea to look directly at a ghost this early in the evening. The veil was thin and growing thinner. And she wanted to talk to Hvergelmir.

"Sister," said the Angel, laying a gentle hand on the Wayfarer's arm. She lowered the champagne glass to her side, inconspicuous, oh no, my underaged me has certainly not been imbibing in the space booze. "Do you... see anything strange?"

She hadn't been unsettled when she left the Outsider's side, but... But now she'd seen a face in the crowd. Or thought she'd seen a face. One she recognized but couldn't place. The Angel had so many missing memories. So much lost time. But... She didn't think it was anyone Gemma Hudson had forgotten.

Biting her lip, she said, "I don't think I've even met Chauvet before, so I'm just flattered to be invited. Really."

Observer

"A good question, really..." She murmured, though she found herself turning back to the place where the one who had been gazing at her had stood. She wanted to know who they were, how they knew her... How she knew them.

She glanced around, and saw the woman staring intently at the tapestry as well. Part of Observer wanted to go over to her, because she seemed to be crying, if the shining droplets on her face were any indication. But at the same time, Observer shied away from doing so, because she was unsure of the other person, and did not wish to cause a scene. Instead, she murmured softly "I hope she is alright..." in a way that made it clear she was not even aware she had spoken at all.

She glanced back at Resilience, and bit her lip. "We could..." And she glanced to wear the former dancer stood, watching her.

The Red Prince

Entering the gallery, Faustite found the space crowded with person after person, witness after witness, with little more than a bartender and a promise of champagne to quell them. Near em was the girl who responded to em, who waved away such a benign invasion of space with such a benign, bourgeoisie bitter that the Red Prince cast her a second glance. Mask and flourish aside, who was she to treat this otherworldly affair as anything so banal?

"Running into each other like we're in a school hall and not a decrepit conservatory on the edge of the universe. It seems so human, doesn't it? " Ey asked, eir attention rounded on her in full. Here they stood in such human normalcy — in crowd logic, in fancy affairs where all foiced themselves to such formal, reserved language that they dare not convey more than small talk to each other — and she treated this night as any other. Either she read no part of the invitation, which Faustite found doubtful, or she was so accustomed to visiting other planets that she was part of the Negaverse's interstellar enemies. For no citizen, no agent, no Negaverse senshi ey met had known space as intimately as this — nor would they, should they, perceive it so benignly.

It was here that the Red Prince felt at once awed and cowed, conscious of the fire in eir core and eir flame eyes and black hands and smokestacks and all that ey missed in the middle. It was here that any with eyes could look at em and know an agent. Ey was no Kholat Syakhl.

But this didn't matter to the girl. Was this supernatural bourgeoisie bitter or an ally instead?

The Red Prince stepped apart from the door, toward the wall, where the flow of people tapered to a trickle. With a hand braced to eir hip, ey watched her with the majority of the gallery in eir peripheral. The want was great to look at the marvels on display, to curate them for what would benefit the Negaverse most. But eir gaze stayed, scrutinizing. "Have you been here before?"

Jägerin

All the soft colors, all the soft voices and fine art; Jägerin was quiet certain she didn't belong here. That her presence here was some large cosmic oversight. She felt like a gatecrasher, an interloper, and quite frankly that was fine, she was used to it, in fact. Introductions upon her arrival revealed where she was, but not how she had come to be there. However, now that she was, why not see how the rest of the evening panned out.

Among the bright and colorful she was a bit of elegant darkness. A strapless bodice tapered down into a bell skirt with multiple layers of gathered lace. Purple hair was gathered and curled, a portion hidden beneath the dark cover of the skull mask that hid the upper half of an almost delicate face. What could be seen of her eyes were silver and coal lined, lips a shade or purple so dark they were nearly black. The ink on her should stood out, the feathers on her back did not.

There was a wine glass cradled loosely in one hand but a spotless rim showed it was untouched, and ascertaining the reason why was as simple as following her line of sight.

She was staring, fixedly, at the figure of an average height man in dark fabrics and Abundant feathers, a look on her face lost somewhere between shook deep thought, and something a little sad. Rigid in posture, frozen in place. There was something familiar there, something that made her chest tight and breath short. She wanted to stay across the floor and rip the mask from his face, to confirm to herself that she was only seeing ghosts, but she couldn't move.

Pearl

Blue eyes lifted as Pearl passed through the doorway, rising up and up to a view of domed glass ceilings that made her gape.

Space, like someone had set them in a space ship, floated above the party. Just outside the glass… more breathtaking than any starry night sky she had ever seen. Photos of it had not done it justice, truly… the colors were more vibrant than anything a flat picture could emulate. She itched for a paintbrush… but the hum of conversation reminded her she wasn’t in a place where she could indulge herself.

The view of space should have felt at odds with the magical fairytale atmosphere, but surprisingly, it blended rather well. Maybe it was the colors… set above white marble and… barstools?

The oddity of the collection pulled Pearl from the tantalizing view to new and wonderful things, arranged around like displays at a museum… or someone’s yard sale. There was a bowl of what was maybe clay, painted and ornamented. She had some experience with pottery, but it had only been a dabble in one college course. There was a pendant, some casks, flowers and weapons…. A tapestry and ancient clothing… It was better than any museum, truly. None of this would have shown up at a museum on Earth, and that gave it all an air of mystery and excitement.

Despite the taste, caught up in her perusal, Pearl kept taking very small sips from her cup, unnoticed by her.

A transparent figure passed by and Pearl started, going wide eyed as she watched the man… was it a man?… pass her by. That was certainly new. Were there ghosts at this party too? Or… or maybe it was a faerie thing, to go about looking all transparent like that. She had certainly thought she had been prepared for anything here by now.

(Pearl is open for interaction)