Fable - Ask A nightmare dressed like a daydream

[Nairth San'Seya]

Nairth did not reply when asked for confirmation on his intention, but he seemed to have an idea of what worries might arise from such a sudden claim. "Not in any official capacity. I'm not so naive that I believe myself the catalyst for her destiny to be fulfilled. I merely mean to state that should she need me, I will be there for her." He could already hear the tone and speed of the song drifting through the air changing, and knew that their time was also coming to an end soon.

Nairth had not made a binding pact in quite some time, and he wished not the trouble that came with them on the human he'd just encountered. There was no freedom of choice in a pact with a Fae. No, the best way to help her would be to stay away unless called upon. Should she truly be in need, he would be there, but not before. No, he would depart once again to his grove in Falwood, where there were no courts or kings, where he could live peacefully until his duty called him once more.

It was less the words she spoke that he took as a compliment, and more the pause taken before she spoke them. She'd had a quick retort for most everything he said tonight, but the words he'd found most important had been taken quite seriously by her; she did not brush his offered wisdom aside, and for that he was grateful.

And when finally the music was fading and he'd pulled her as close as was decent to whisper against her ear, the ever so sharp wit was back. Her tease was greeted with a rather amused grin. "Touche, Miss Isiell. Should the Prince leave you wanting, you're welcome to join me in the Grove, so long as you don't set anything ablaze." And he broke apart from her.

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Tharu had tucked his flask away as Vulpesen spoke, crossing his arms over his chest and averting his eyes. He had come this far, and this odd new warlock seemed trustworthy... What did he have to lose in speaking his own mind for once in his wretched life? There was little that could be taken from him... "I do not claim to understand why my Master... My Father... did what he did. I don't know why it wasn't something he could handle without striking down everybody who carried our name, and I don't know what emotions run through his heart."

"One thing I do know, though, is that I see guilt in his eyes every time he looks at me." Oh, where could he could a drink in his size? So blatantly ignoring Nairth's wishes... he needed to numb the nerves. He slid his hands behind his back and bowed to Vulpesen. "Apologies, that was far too personal for any Fae to be speaking to you. Thank you for averting your eyes from my transgression."

Looking as Nairth finished his dance, Tharu seemed to straighten himself, as though he wished to be more presentable in case his father returned. "He sees your ambition, I think. He's always had a soft spot for that."

Isiell
Vulpesen

 

[Isiell]

Isiell gave a throaty laugh at Nairth's invitation and let her fingertips tease over his collar as they parted.

"And if the Prince does not leave me wanting, does the invitation still stand after my little tryst with him ends?" she purred, grinning as she gave him the slightest of curtsies before stepping away.

She looked around to see if she could spot Ariel, but frowned a little when she didn't find him quickly. Favashi was still occupied with Vaer Nhimei, though if they hadn't still been on the dance floor she would have gone to greet them both. Vaer would possibly have news of her mother's ire after Isiell's departure.

Then she spotted someone in the crowd that might be foolish to approach after the way things had played out earlier, but chaos didn't often take wisdom into account. With an innocent smile that belied her cunning, Isiell wove through the throng until she stood before Midir.

"Good evening, Autumn King," she said, bowing her head respectfully. "Lady Aubretta sends her greetings from the Dawn Court."

 

[Vulpesen]

Hearing of Tharu's own relationship to the fae lord, Vulpesen rose a brow, though his gaze focused on his drink. With every word, the fae imp's tale got stranger and stranger. Still, it was as honest an account as he could hope for, and there was solace to be known as he heard of Nairth's feelings over his rage. "Don't worry yourself on my account. I enjoy the chance to learn of the fae, even if the tales aren't always pleasant." He didn't know if it was his time as a scout, or as Varos' warlock that made him crave knowledge like a fish desired water? Maybe it was both.

"Ambition drives us mortals to greatness. Not all of us are born with amazing powers, connected to the magical threads that hold the world together." He swirled his glass, watching the golden bubbly liquid within before bringing it once more to his lips for a small sip. "So we must seek out our power to make a mark on this wide world. And we need to do it fast. At least, fast compared to your kind."

Nairth San'Seya

 

[Midir]

"I do not see a bloodied head in a basket, so your Lady clearly does not send her best greetings from Dawn."

The Erlking looked over the rim of his glass at the woman before him. It was hard to tell from his expression behind the mask whether he was attempting to be humorous, deeply insulted, or somewhere in between the two. His eyes trailed over from head to foot before taking a slow sip. The wine looked to red in his glass he had wondered at first if it was blood. He much preferred wine, blood was only good when being taken directly from the source after all.

"Did you grow bored of my son so quickly?" he raised a brow and lifted his eyes to scan the room in a lazy gesture. Even if he hadn't seen the pair find a darker corner of the ball he would have been able to smell his sons scent on the woman in front of him. He wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust before taking another slow, sip.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

The mysterious Isiell slipped away in the blink of an eye, but not before running her fingers along his collarbone, asking for clarification on his invitation. Even he wasn't sure if he meant what he'd said to her or not, but he was more than willing to find out. "My grove is open to any, Miss Isiell, at any time. I will ensure you are given a special greeting, however." He purred as she broke away and departed.

Nairth departed once more from the dance floor, having had quite his fill for the time being. Some small part of him had to admit that dancing for the first time in so long had been quite the positive stimulus. Perhaps he would have to thank his King for sending him in his stead after all. For now, he would return to that other fellow who he'd been talking to, if only to bid him goodnight. He'd been pleasant enough conversation after all.

When his eyes traveled back to where he'd stood though, he was met with the sight of Tharu speaking with the warlock instead. Nairth's eyes narrowed, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Tharu knew he wasn't to make his presence felt at this event, but he seemed quite cozy with Vulpesen.

"Am I interrupting anything?" He was wearing that same smile despite his unease as he returned to them, ever the one to keep his composure. He tilts his head, peering down at Tharu with a sly grin. "My assistant hasn't had much in the way of company besides me, sometimes he gets lonely, not that I don't empathize..." He was angry with Tharu, but a public display of his contempt would be inappropriate. Instead, he turns to Vulpesen. "That took a bit longer than I anticipated, I do apologize. Hopefully, I didn't miss anything exciting?"

Vulpesen
Isiell

 

[Isiell]

Isiell tipped her head back and let delighted laughter escape her as the Erlking's eyes drifted over her form.

"Is there any particular head you desire to be in said basket?" she said a moment later as her attention returned to the Erlking. "Perhaps I can amend Lady Aubretta's... oversight."

She grinned again as Midir asked about his son.

"Lorcan was an adequate distraction for a while," she answered, "but I do have a standing invitation to his bed now, so there's no reason to rush through things. I didn't come to the ball just to spend time with only one person the entire time."

Isiell held out a hand then. "I doubt, though, that you wish to speak of myself and your son for very long. A dance, perhaps, if the outcast of the Winter Court is not too far beneath your attentions?"

She caught sight of Nairth returning to his table out of the corner of her eye, and smirked. Special greeting, hm?

Midir
Nairth San'Seya

 

[Midir]

A look of boredom flittered across his ice-chipped eyes.

"I've had enough of dancing," he remarked coldly and finished his wine in one final, long, swig. Dancing was his least favourite part of these little soirees his kind seemed to love so much. He wasn't a lesser fae who fed off the emotions dancing so closely with another, and he had no need to climb the slippery social pole like other higher fae. If he could have gotten away with never hosting another one he would have outlawed them a long time ago but he recognised the need for such parties as a way for his court to let off steam. His gaze followed hers towards the male she had just been dancing with. The same male dear Fraeya had been dancing with, how interesting. Oberon's little dog sure was growing into those big shoes of his.

"But perhaps you would like to join me for a game instead," he motioned to one of the tables in the corner where people were playing cards.

 

[Isiell]

Isiell recognized the resentful bite of Midir's refusal, and just smiled. She'd hated dancing in the Winter Court as well. Her mother was constantly scrutinizing her no matter who she danced with, and rather than it being a fun game, it had become an exhausting set of rules and decorum.

When the Erlking offered a different invitation and gestured to the card tables, though, Isiell grinned.

"Games of chance," she smirked. "Just the type of chaos I love. I would be delighted to join you."

 

[Midir]

A tiny smile curled the corners of the Erlkings lips.

Without another word he set the empty glass he had been holding on the tray of a passing servant and stalked towards the table with the grace and poise of someone who knew they didn't need to look fierce in order to have people rush to get out of his way. The small gathering of lesser fae that had clumped around the table he wanted scattered like leaves in an autumnal wind leaving just the nervous dealer, Isiell and himself. Far more private, far less rigid.

With a small gesture of his hand the chair opposite him pushed backwards to allow her to sit whilst he took his own place.

"As you love games of chance so much, why don't you choose which one we play?"

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen looked up from his drink, his bright golden eyes taking in the features of his previous company. Years of political training, and his innate secretive talents came to bear as he kept his face neutral and police, even placing on a smile for the fae lord. "Not at all," he chirped, "Simply a discussion between servants of the courts." He made a small sweeping motion with hi hands, offering Nairth a place back into the circle of discussion.

"In truth, Tharu here does you credit. While my master is quite reserved in his desires of praise, I'm certain that Lords Wulren and Rerreno would be quite honored to have an attendant who is so ardently and vocally supportive." His tail swished behind him and he brought his drink up once more, his smile widening a bit. Tharu had indeed been pleasant company, a touch of familiarity from a somewhat kindred soul, and he was loathe to risk placing him into any hot water.

[You act as if I'd complain of the occasional compliment. You used to pray to me. Your family and friends still do,] Varos whispered into his ear, the shadowy presence of his master setting a slight haze in his mind.

[People pray to gods to be closer to them. I think you're close enough.]


Nairth San'Seya

 

[Isiell]

Isiell followed closely behind the Erlking, gracefully seating herself when he pushed the chair out for her with his magic. She glanced at the dealer, felt the waves of nervousness emanating from the poor creature, and siphoned off just a little of the chaos. It wouldn't do to have the cards flying in the air around them due to fumbling fingers, rather than neatly dealt on the table before them.

She watched Midir for a few moments as he settled into his seat across from her. For all of his grace and poise, there was a lovely amount of chaos simmering around him, and her eyes sparkled as she thought of just the game to get him to let loose.

"Shuffle the deck," she told the dealer, "then divide it evenly between us."

As the dealer obeyed, Isiell leaned forward eagerly. "Have you ever played Abtati Ratscrew?" she asked, a devious smirk teasing at her lips.

Midir

 

[Midir]

Midir wondered if the dealer might throw up. The tiny fae with skin that looked like a juniper tree had gone ghostly pale and it's leafy mane quivered. Expectantly, it glanced towards his king for the nod of approval before hurriedly beginning to shuffle the deck. The Erlking cast the fae one more wondering look before raising a slender brow at his opponent for the evening.

"I can't say I have," he said in a voice like honeyed wine. The boredom from earlier has vanished along with any facade that the whole interaction was beneath him. It was very rare that he found something new to learn and the sharpness in his gaze suggested he was keen to devour this knowledge as quickly as possible.

"Can I look?" He motioned to the half deck in front of him, head cocked.

 

[Isiell]

Isiell's grin widened as she heard the subtle shift in Midir's voice and saw his gaze sharpen. If she were anyone but a Fury of the Dawn Court perhaps a cold tendril of fear would have slithered down her spine as his attention fully shifted to her, but it only made her heart pound with exhilaration.

"Can I look?" He motioned to the half deck in front of him, head cocked.

She shook her head. "The goal is to collect the entire deck," she explained as she gathered her cards, face down, and arranged them into a stack on the table before her. "We take turns, laying one card at a time face-up in the middle of the table. When the cards are anything except an ace or a face card--ignoring suits--we continue to take turns. However, when one of us lays down an ace or face, the other player gets to extra turns, depending on the card, to put down another ace or face.

"An ace gets 4 attempts, a jack gets 3, a queen gets 2, and a king gets 1." A quiet laugh escaped her then, amusement at her own unintended pun. A king gets one chance, she thought to herself. But how true that might be. "If the player manages to lay down one of the required cards in their allotted chances, they take the whole stack of cards from the middle and add them to the bottom of their own stack, without shuffling. If they do not, then the last player to lay down a face card wins the pile.

"There is one additional component to the game," she purred, interlacing her fingers as she propped her elbows on the table for a moment. "A... rather physical component. When certain combinations of cards are laid down, then the players get the opportunity to... claim the pile."

Isiell bit her lip, her shoulders briefly shaking with quiet laughter. "Those combinations are doubles: two matching cards laid down consecutively, between-the-sheets: two matching cards with only a single card between them, top-bottom: the card just played matches the card at the bottom of the stack, a sequence of consecutive cards--usually 4 at a time--going either forward or backward, and marriage: a king and a queen played back to back.

"To claim the pile when one of those combinations is played," Isiell let her mirth be fully heard in her voice, "you have to be the first one to slap the pile of cards in the middle."

She leaned back in her chair then, and with faux demure, quietly folded her hands in her lap. She'd seen people--humans and lesser fae, especially--play this game and go away from the table with bruised and bloodied knuckles. Broken fingers. Torn nails. They were both high fae, though. While they might inflict some pain on each other, there wouldn't be any permanent injuries for something like this.

"The player seated to the left of the dealer goes first," she finished with a smile that belied innocence, but there was more than a hint of chaos in her eyes. "This is usually a children's game in Amol-Kalit, so there's not often wagers involved. If you desire one, though, simply say so.

"Any questions before we begin?"

Midir

 

[Midir]

The Erlking slowly lifted his hands to behind his head where he calmly began to undo the ties that held the giant skull of a stag onto his face as he listened to her description. He thought he had played this game once before, many years ago, when Lorcán was but a child barely above his knee. His mother had always been fond of games so it was hardly a surprise another of the Court of Dawn held her enthusiasm for it. Aubretta most certainly had set a wager if he remembered correctly. He set the mask to the side revealing every sharp plane of his face. Midir's beauty was a harsh one with brutalist cheekbones and an angular jaw freshly shaven. His blue eyes looked as though they were carved from the depths of a winters pool and were framed perfectly by the tidy blonde locks currently half tied back off his face.

"I think I understand," his crooked smile was a lazy thing as his fingers ran over the top of the card. "But perhaps you will go easy on me for our first round," he crooked an eyebrow and though his tone was flat there was amusement in his eyes.

"As for the wager..." he seemed to mull it over thoughtfully. No fae could really resist a deal, after all, even the Kings and Queens of Courts. "I bet... one secret."

 

[Isiell]

Of course the fucking Erlking had to look just enough like Ariel without his mask on that it nearly distracted her. Both had long blonde hair they kept pulled back. However, where Ariel's verdant eyes were warm and his face was cheery, Midir's blue eyes were harsh and his face cold and cunning.

She resisted the urge to look around the ballroom again and try to spot where her friend had vanished to.

Isiell didn't miss the genuine amusement in Midir's gaze, though, and as he asked her to go easy on him for the first round, she reached up and removed her own mask.

"You wish to wager secrets, but you ask me to go easy on you?" Isiell teased. "As if. You have a bet."

 

[Midir]

A low, genuine chuckle escaped him as he shook his head.

"I would expect no less from a Fury of Dawn," he seemed to murmur more to himself than he did to her. The dealer hovered anxiously by their side wringing his hands so tightly he wondered if the lesser fae would strip his own skin. In an irritated gesture of the hand he dismissed him. "I'm sure we can split a deck in two by ourselves," the wood-skinned fae bowed thankfully then all but fled into the crowd. He barely paid it any mind as he returned his attention to the deck in front of him.

As he sat to the left of the dealer, upon her instructions, he started.

Four.

 

[Isiell]

The chaotic energy swirling around the table was nearly palpable to Isiell. The dealer's distress--which she couldn't help but nudge into a little more of a frenzy, and the combined presence of herself and Midir was enough to thoroughly frighten most lesser fae.

She pouted a little as Midir grew annoyed and dismissed the tree-like creature, sighing as she watched it disappear into the crowd. "Pity," she murmured. "It had such a delightful air about it."

Midir played his first card then, and Isiell turned her focus back to the game. She grinned and placed her own card atop of his.

Seven.

While their plays moved at a rather fast clip, and soon the table rocked back and forth between them as the slapping commenced. On Isiell's part, at least, there were moments of shouted swearing followed by triumphant laughter, and at the end a pained groan as Midir claimed the last of her cards.

She stretched her hand carefully, wincing. It was definitely going to be bruised and swollen soon.

"A secret?" she murmured as she leaned back in her chair, watching Midir thoughtfully. "Does it have to be my own, or can it be someone else's secret?"

He hadn't specified, after all, but she wasn't about to take that far of a gamble with the Erlking. She may be chaos embodied, and in many ways on equal footing with him, but a bargain was still a bargain, even among the fae. And for the first time in her life, she actually liked her life and didn't want to risk it foolishly.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Normally, Nairth would have been a tad more suspicious of the exact nature of the conversation Tharu had with their warlock friend. The events of the night had left him with other things on his mind. Fraeya and her potential, Isiell and her wiles. The night had been far more eventful than he could have anticipated, and it had indeed served to put him in a better mood than he'd been in some time. He showed as much with the soft smile he gave Tharu. "Is that so...?"

He almost sounded genuinely surprised at that. It was no secret he'd been somewhat cruel to Tharu, his last son. His curse of diminished size and power was a heavy one to bear, but Nairth had been unable to bring himself to slay the child. Tharu had been born after the episode which ended the lives of his siblings. He held no sin, no blame... Nairth couldn't bear to kill another one of his children.

Locking his hands behind his back, he speaks softly to Tharu. "For the time being, you are dismissed Tharu. You may return to the Grove and take a reliqua berry from my reserve as reward for your assistance."

Tharu nearly spat out his drink. "A reliqua? truly, Sir?"

Nairth nodded without another word, and Tharu vanished from sight. Humming thoughtfully, Nairth took the spot beside Vulpesen and tilted his head towards him. "Reliqua berries temporarily undo the effect of many curses and binding spells. It will allow him to live at his full splendor for a weeks time." He explains. There was no permanent reversal for what Nairth had done to the small being, but it was something. "Did you observe any goings-on? What do you think of the attendees?"

Vulpesen

 

[Midir]

The Erlking rubbed his hand with a small grimace; his opponent wasn't the only one who had suffered in the slapping war. His pale skin was ribboned with red welts from long fingers and rings. He would most definitely remember to have anyone he played in future take off any jewellery. Still, he had won, even if it had boiled down to that last stack and he carefully begun to shuffle them more to exercise his cramped hand than anything. Funny how a simple child's game could be so entertaining.

A slender brow rose at the clarification. He had deliberately left it open as an easy exit for himself if he had lost but also as a curtesy to her.

"Any secret a Dawnish Woman wishes to give me will be payment enough," he replied smoothly and continued to shuffle the cards whilst watching her intently.

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen watched the exchange with a bit of interest, and he couldn't help the swell of pride that rose up as his plan worked. With a final nod to Tharu, he watched the servant take his leave before turning his attention back to Nairth San'Seya. "At this range, there is little to be gathered of individuals. Games of words are played on the sides and upon the dancefloor. Some take to corners for purposes shown to me via the shadows. I think your people take your extravagance rather serio-" A pair of slaps across the room caused his ears to flick as far as they could towards the sound before his head whipped around.

Two decks of cards and a pile between with the players vying for the prize. It was sight so familiar that he couldn't help the flood of slash backs that poured through his mind. Bruised and reddened hands, a dagger between his fingers, and the victorious grin he so often held after victory had been claimed by a swift sliding hand. "Abatati Rattrap...." The words were a murmur and his tail flicked excitedly for a moment as a gleeful smile briefly danced across his face.

Still, his joy lasted only until the rest of his memories caught up and soon the mask was back on, civility and neutrality arriving to hide the pang of sorrow. It had been a fun game in his time... but the tables he played on were now empty. "I also think your people have quite a way with finding entertainment," Vulpesen finally continued as he turned back to the Fae beside him.

 

[Isiell]

Isiell fell into silence for a few moments, watching as Midir continued to shuffle the deck. She could feel the eyes of many of the other fae on them now, no doubt curious as to the shouting and slapping that had happened earlier.

"Any secret?" she murmured thoughtfully, her gaze wandering around the room.

The truth was, surprisingly, that Isiell didn't have a terrible lot of secrets. Most of her escapades were the start of rumors, hence her reputation. There was one secret that came to mind immediately, but it wasn't one she wanted getting back to Ariel's ears by Midir's tongue, and so it was off the table.

"The first time my mother slapped me," she spoke at last. "I ran away from home and lived in the forest outside of Underhill with my best friend for three days."

That wasn't the secret, but it was what led to the secret.

"My parents never searched for me," Isiell continued. "When I came home, they acted as if everything was normal and I'd not even been gone. It was strange and unsettling, and I didn't realize until I stepped back into my bedroom that it had all been a trick.

"When I stepped into the room, a new maid--a human maid--followed me and closed the door behind me. And I found myself locked within a cage of iron. Iron bars across the windows. A strip of iron put in the baseboards all around the room. Even my doorknob had been changed to an iron one. They didn't let me leave the house without an escort again for six months."

She sighed, leaning her elbow back on the table and propping her chin on her hand. "I never got the opportunity to tell anyone. I was allowed some visitors, some social calls, and a limited amount of correspondence. But everything I sent out was checked, and if they didn't like how or what I said, I had to rewrite it."

Isiell snorted softly. "All because I was a little too wild and independent for their carefully laid out plans for me. Plans they'd started on before I was even born."

 

[Midir]

The shuffling of the cards slowed to a stop as she spoke.

The Erlking liked stories. It was not a fact that many people knew about him but one of his favourite pastimes was to ask the mortal women he took to bed for a story. Sometimes they would tell him about their lives, other times they would give him tales of their families or from their cultures. When their blood was still warm he sometimes like to dip his quill in to that well of life and write down their tales to read later on. His fingers itched now to write down the one this fae told him.

"And they call me a lousy father," he gave the Fury a lazy, crooked smile as he settled back in his chair. He was well aware of the things people spoke about in hushed tones when it came to how he treated his son but he had never used iron or ash on him before. Not directly anyway. Though the cage was a rather genius idea, he mused. Abruptly he set the deck down in the dead centre of the table and stood. By all rights the chair scraping back should have made a racket but it was as silent as a summer wind.

"Thank you for the game Lady Isiell. If you'll excuse me, my attentions are required elsewhere," with a small incline of his head he picked up the mask and then melted back into the crowd.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Nairth had taken to listening to Vulpesen's observations with lidded eyes and quiet nods. He had already expressed his admiration for his perceptive nature, but he knew very well that one as observant as he would have taken such audit of him as well. He'd no doubt seen Nairth and the two women he'd danced with, heard tales of his past from Tharu, and drawn conclusions all his own. The Duanann would have been disappointed if he hadn't put the pieces together on his own. Before the young warlock could even finish his thoughts, however, a loud smack rang out that seemed to divert his attention.

More than divert it, it seemed to capture his mind, ensnare him in it. For what may have seemed like seconds to Vulpesen seemed much longer to Nairth, and his curiosity was too much to bear.

What seemed to transfix Vulpesen seemed to be some sort of card game between Isiell, and The Erlking himself. Seeing that King in the flesh made the hairs on the back of Nairth's neck stand on end, and the skin of his arms begin to bump softly. San'Seya disliked The Erlking; he didn't agree with any of his beliefs and found his methods to be primal and barbaric. His negative reaction to The King was offset by the fact Isiell had seemingly saw fit to challenge him to what he assumed was a card game of mortal creation.

"Such bravado. She's as bold as they come, wouldn't you say?" Nairth spoke softly to the man beside him. Indeed, the Fae were experts at one thing above all else, and that was pleasing themselves. Indulgence was abundant within their kind, and Nairth's own actions tonight had proved that not even he was above such gluttony at times.

"Your opinions are quite valid. I too ask myself if perhaps our downfall will be how we look at ourselves. An odd introspection for one such as I to have, but a necessary one to confront. It matters not how tall the beast, or how wide the tree, someday all meets an end."

Vulpesen

 

[Isiell]

Isiell snorted softly the moment she noticed Midir's hands slowing as he shuffled the cards. The moment he leaned in, his gaze fixed on her, as she spoke. She shivered a little when she finished. That was the moment in her life when she'd realized she'd never be able to submit to her parents' plans for her, would never have a chance of being happy in Underhill. She hadn't recalled it, not in that amount of detail, in many years.

"And they call me a lousy father," he gave the Fury a lazy, crooked smile as he settled back in his chair.

"Lousy parents come in all shapes and sizes, I think," Isiell said with a smirk as he dropped the deck of cards back in the center of the table. She was a little surprised when he rose from him seat, but simply bowed her head elegantly and reached for her mask once more.

"Thank you for the game Lady Isiell. If you'll excuse me, my attentions are required elsewhere," with a small incline of his head he picked up the mask and then melted back into the crowd.

"My pleasure, Erlking," she murmured before replacing her own mask and stepping away from the card table, meandering through the ballroom once more.