15116/The Four Treasures: Masquerade

The Four Treasures: Masquerade
Date of Scene:	18 June 2023
Location:	A Faerie Ball in Venice
Synopsis:	Janet, Brian and some Titans walk into a Faery Ball. It all gets a bit Shakespearian.
Cast of Characters:	Donna Troy, Terry O'Neil, Jinx, Brian Braddock, Xiomara Rojas, Irie West, Michael Hannigan, Kian, Wally West, Gar Logan, Janet van Dyne, Damian Wayne, Rachel Roth

---

Donna Troy has posed:
    Venice, for those who have not been, lives up to its reputation. This fact applies both to the sheer beauty of the city, and its smell. It's hot enough that the canals are doing what they do in the summer months. You get used to it quickly enough, but it's enough to tell the visitor that it's lucky they came in June, rather than say August.

    It is also a town that is both small and very crowded. Tourist season has started in full. Perhaps in an emergency the T-Jet might land at Piazza San Marco, but in this instance Donna had insisted on flying to the airport, hiring cabs to the ferry terminal, and crossing to the city from there. This all in the morning, giving everyone time to do a little sight seeing, and make sure they've got any costume and more importantly mask they might wish to get before arriving. Costumes, the Lord Merrihew had assured the Titans, could be provided. Everyone was told to bring their own masks though, and there may be a good reason for that.

    The Titans are not the only members of the American superhero community in Venice today, nor the only ones invited to the party. While the Titans are mask shopping in a boutique on the Rialto bridge (yes, there are shops on the actual bridge itself), Brian Braddock and Janet Van Dyne are just a quarter of a mile away, at the San Zaccaria docks close by the Doge's palace, trying to arrange transport.

    Transport is an issue. The location given for the party is the island of San Marco in Boccalama, which sank beneath the waves of the Venice lagoon several hundred years ago. To make things extra complicated, the party starts at midnight. There are, unsurprisingly, no scheduled trips at that time.

    Donna's solution to the transport problem involved hiring, at considerable expense, a Vaporetto water-bus. It took a fair bit of convincing to let them drive it around the lagoon at night.

    A little before midnight the vaporetto sets off south. Soon the colorful lights of the city that reflect so brilliantly in the waters of the lagoon are left behind, and the boat is driving through silent and dark waters, relying on GPS navigation to bring them to where the island is supposed to be. Or rather supposed not to be. A summer fog dances on the surface of the waters, making navigation even harder. Out in the distance a few lights of boats moving on the waters are visible, but nothing close. The many lights of a giant cruise ship pass by on the port side, some half a mile distant. When the GPS tracker shows the Titans have arrived where the island should be, there's.... nothing.

    At first. The boat rocks in silence as Donna kills the engine and drops the anchor over the side. She's about to say "What now" when the mist seems to suddenly swirl away, and where there was once nothing but empty water, the area is filled with gondolas, each lit by a lamp mounted on the prow, coming in to tie themselves up at mooring posts alongside a wooden quay on a small island. A pathway leads from the quay to a palazzo lit with countless candles visible through the windows and mounted on metal poles all round the front. At the door of the palazzo stands Lord Merrihew, ready to welcome visitors.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"This is probably the most romantic city in the world," Vorpal says, an arm around each fiance. Pause. "... with the least romantic of smells, so it balances out." There was no question about what mask he would wear. A Gnaga- a cat mask, with a very particular design- it was red leather with adornments, yes, but there was also a little golden crown over one ear. This was by design and bespoke. His ability to travel anywhere in the world meant that he had traveled to Venice as soon as he heard about what was coming. Long enough to have that little modification made to the mask in honor of... well, a suspected relative. He had also procured his own clothes to match- an extremely elegant attire in crimson, silver and black, appropriate for the period. adorning the chest was an intricate succession of silver chains that describe a warped crescent, somewhat reminiscent of a Cheshire grin.

And, of course, he is in feline shape. There was no way he was going to pass that up.

Jinx has posed:
"There are some things we should all be aware of before we engage with the fae - really important things," Jinx says. She's been a bit quiet the whole trip. Self reflection mode since the 'therapy' trip to Surrey in England. Whatever happened over there has affected Jinx deeply. This was Harley's doing.

"Don't ever say Thank You to a fae. They take that as meaning you owe them a debt. Never give them your real name, that gives them power over you - likewise don't ask them for their real name, that's considered rude. Do not eat the food or drink, it might bind you to the island."

"Don't lie to a fae - they can lie to you, but if you lie to them they will see right through it. Twist your words as much as you want, just don't lie. If you do promise something you must keep that promise.. which is I suppose why we're all here today."

"Don't accept gifts, this is also admitting a debt to them. There's literally warning us not to dance at a ball they throw but we were invited to this ball, so that might not apply to us. May be. No iron at all, that will hurt them and bad things will happen. Don't say Sorry, that's admitting a -deep- debt to them. And ... try to be polite, we want them on our good side. If they all shut down on us we won't be able to keep our promise."

Jinx went to a library to research the fae after the dream. There was a lot to sift through, but certain themes kept coming back again and again. Now dressed in all black like a Renaissance nobleman - tight black leggings, puffy short shorts, a tight V-shaped tunic, and wearing a Scaramuccia mask, she is about as ready as she'll ever be for this shindig.

As the island seems to magically appear about them she lets out a small sigh. She might be ready for this, but at the same time, she is utterly disarmed. Not that she has told anyone; nor is she sure magic would even have helped with the fae. Knowledge is power here. The fae play their cards very close to their chests.

Brian Braddock has posed:
There was a moment taken upon arrival to Venice. Eventually, they're to make their way to the fabled island of San Marco in Boccalama, apparent sunken fate notwithstanding, but first?

The broad-shouldered Brit took a moment to place his hands upon the outer rounds of Janet's shoulders. Very, very solemnly, he looked upon her and said, "Now, Miss Van Dyne. I invited you because of your proven social intellect and sense for sharks in the water, as it were. Let me be blunt with you: we are swimming with sharks. The appropriate phrase is, fuck around and find out. Please do not fuck around. Am I understood?" In a quieter moment yet, away from mortal and prying ears, he explained as best he could of the fact that this wasn't just ANY masquerade, but one helluva supernatural shindig thrown by a Court this world didn't really believe still existed -- but he knew better and apparently, so did they, hence the invitation. His additional wisdoms include: don't eat the food, don't drink the drinks, and don't make promises to anyone.

The duds for the Brit this evening are fully and glaringly white (heaven forbid any spill within an arm's length) save for the assymetrical fan of what appears to be feathers at his upper right shoulder and lower left fall of suit; the shades of blue run the painter's gamut. Accents of gold show at his bowtie and the inner hemline of his suit's lapels. His mask is full-face and fully white save for accompanying blue patterns, feather-like again, unfurling from the outside of each of his eye. Blond hair gleaming, wide awake thanks to local coffee, he and Janet arrive a la Wasp: shrunken to fly across the water, upsized upon arrival to the quay. One moment, empty space. The next?

Brian straightening his suit-jacket with passes of his palms and centering his mask better on his face before offering his arm to Janet again. "Shall we?"

Xiomara Rojas has posed:
Venice. Crush had never been to Venice, nor did she really know much about the city, save the basics from high school history. The only thing she carried with her on the trip is a midsized backpack, in which was a change of clothing and her chosen mask. The idea of covering her face, of concealing herself, that had taken her some time to come to terms with. She did not like hiding herself away, it's the reason she never wore make up to conceal her pale skin and the natural black markings. This however was different, or so she'd been told.

There wasn't much sight seeing the Czarnian was interested in, Italian not being a language she spoke, it make no sense for her to go wondering. Most likely she'd just get herself in trouble when some Italian made a comment she didn't understood, took the tone wrong and ended up punching... no, she stayed well away from the risk of that.

The warning offered by Jinx is repeated in her head a few times while she is getting ready, memorized quickly and allowing her to focus on the clothing. The costume she choose was right out of a painting of a mane from the 16th century, high color, poufy shorts, tights, and vest in colors that matched the chosen Columbina mask in blue with feathers that she had selected. She still looked extremely out of place and uncomfortable, but she was there and trying very hard to be 'normal'.

"I feel like a pinata," she muttered to anyone in ear shot, adjusted the high collar again then moved to follow the others in.

Irie West has posed:
    Irie, having never been to Venice before, certainly does all the sightseeing. All at once. In record time. Then comes the shopping! A mask was easy to find. A gold columbina with wings coming off the brows and the side of the mask gave it a particularly Flash-inspired look. A dress that actually fit her small frame was a bit harder to achieve, especially since she wanted to play up the part and find something that at least resembled 17th century Venetian style.

    Still! She managed to find a shop that had a nice golden dress with red trim complete with puffy sleeves and frilly collar. It only took them half a day to adjust the fit for her. "How can anybody bend over in one of these things?" she complains. "I'm, like, strapped in tighter than an astronaut in a rocket ship."

    On the way there she listens to the warnings with wide eyes. "Wow. There are a //lot// of rules. I hope I remember them all. I don't want to be stuck on the island or anything. Or indebted to the Fae. Or anything that sounds terrible. Maybe it'll be safer for me to just stand there and not say anything?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Special occasions call for special attire, and there's not much else that screams for special attire than a masquerade. So with that in mind, Mike is not dressed like he normally would be. Instead he is dressed for a role.

Crafted via the appication of some amazing leatherwork, the mask takes up most of the face. Black feathers arc around the eyes, bottom feathers curling upwards to reunite with the top feathers as they continue with their sweep upwards towards the hair.

Upon reaching the hair, the feathers stop, showing the sides of the lengthy brown hair to be gathered into a braid on each side. Each braid is pulled up to join forces with the top portion of hair before it slides down the remaining back of the locks.

As far as the portions of the face that are visible, the mask limits it to most of the black lined, sculpted lips, the angular jawline and the ear. The mask casts enough of a shadow around the eyes that the only portion that really show from there are the white of the sclera and the pale, almost glowing blue eyes.

As for the rest of the attire, the coat is definitely something a bit more ornate than one Mike typically would wear. Paired off with the mask, the tailcoat jacket is of a deep black fabric with most of the design within the fabric itself. The pattern gives off a bit of an omage to the view of nature in the growing night. The pants, while of good material is not as ornate as the coat and instead is a simple black fabric. The shirt that peeks out from the gaps of the jacket is slightly more complex. In the distance it does look black but when it catches the light just right, the viewer catches purplish hues.

To some this outfit may seem like overkill but being that Mike has already been to a court before and knows just how extra some of them can be, he figures even with the extra effort, he's probably still a bit underdressed. And if it turns out he needs more of a sparkling effect, he could just ask Terry for a bit of a glitter up. What could possibly go wrong?

...

Don't answer that. On second thought, Mike's just going to make do with what he came to the ball with.

The arrival was simple eno- No. It was a pain in the butt. Getting legal access to the isle of Monte Cristo was easier than this. But... they're here now and already the musician is making his way inside with the others. Somewhat. He's found himself somewhat drifted away from the others, quiet as he observes them.

That is until Crush makes her comment. The darkly clad raven-esque man tilts his head to her. "Well, anyone who makes that mistake with you will be in for quite a surprise."

Photo: https://i.etsystatic.com/5895183/r/il/b2e219/1114727506/il_1140xN.1114727506_fve0.jpg

Kian has posed:
    "I don't know how people wear these things all the time," Kian complains.  "And it's not like anyone who's heard of me... or really any of us," he adds, indicating Gar and Terry, "won't be able to tell who we are."
    Whether or not he likes it, he is wearing a mask, a fairly simple one in blue and gold to match his kilt, and wonder of wonders, he's even wearing a shirt, barely: a simple sleeveless white affair with a mostly open back for his wings, cut to accentuate the breadth of his shoulders, and his pendant rests on the high-cut neckline.  He's even got out his nice sandals, with the yellow-gold base and the blue lacing up his calves.  He could be talked into a mask, but a costume seemed pointless -- especially since his only options were an angel (not going to happen) or the San Diego Chicken (also not going to happen).  So instead he had some of his better clothes sent over in the last Rabbit Hole-based transfer between Earth and Kyshan, and judging by the sheen and softness, they appear to be made of some birdworld equivalent of silk.
    The mask he picked up at the last minute on the mainland: in his case a simple colombina in blue and gold to match the rest of his outfit, and he readjusts it repeatedly, leaning into Terry's side.  He's still a little annoyed about how many times he had to say he would not have a mask with feathers that weren't his own.
    Jinx's list of warnings attracts his attention, and both his fiances can sense his growing unease over the list of things not to do.  "Are we really supposed to *be* there?" he asks.  "I don't know that they sound all that welcoming with rules like that."

Wally West has posed:
VACATION!

"Most romantic city in the world and I *still* don't have a date. Man, I should try and just investigate what I'm going wrong. Maybe I need to be more direct?" Wally tells Terry.

He has a Gatto mask in red with golden trim, as well as a three-piece red suit with black shoes and black gloves over his hands, hair done up surprisingly well (no doubt with help) in a classical style.

Wally nods softly to Irie. "Soooo many rules. Should we break them all?" Wally lifts his hands. "KIDDING! But really, I'm..not exactly dignified."

Even if he looks SHARP.

Gar Logan has posed:
Sometimes, you just have to turn up and turn out. How many chances does one get to attend a fae masquerade? Not many. There are probably reasons for that, but no matter. Going to Venice alone was one of those bucket list items, but somehow it was secondary to their reason for being there. Perhaps there would be more time to sight-see afterward. Perhaps not. Just the ride out to the mysterious location is something in its own right. Then, they arrive.

Garfield Logan tends to stand out on his own, even amid other supers of various persuasions. For this, there was no chance he'd pass up the opportunity to dress up. In this case, it's a full and accurate reproduction, down to the finest detail, of Jareth's costume from the ballroom scene in Labyrinth: meaning the fancy long coat, the ruffled shirt and sleeves, the tight pants, the boots, and all. Even his hair is properly Jareth's, due to his shapeshifting abilities. Of course, that and any visible skin is still green as can be. His mask is a reproduction of the one from the film, skull-like with horns angling out, but the one change is it's fashioned to remain in place without the need of the skeleton hand attached to the stick. This at least enables him to keep both hands free, and the 'Goblin King's' arms are entwined with Vorpal's and Kian's.

"This is quite a shindig, guys," he says. "Hopefully none of us forget all those rules." Were this Las Vegas, a few certain ones in the group would have very strong odds of being the first to screw up somewhere along the way.

Example: https://bbts1.azureedge.net/images/p/full/2017/05/974aa8c0-f6bb-4b58-a6b8-1d4e99bc1959.jpg

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Yes, I know. I read everything you sent me," Janet promises Brian. "I won't start anything." She reaches up and adjusts his bowtie, lips quirking with a sly little amusement at his concern. She gives him a knowing look and pats his jawline beneath the mask. "But as the old folks say, 'Don't start none, won't be none'. We'll see how they like tangling with New York high society." There's a little glimmer of deadly amusement in her green eyes. Janet isn't one to back down from a fight.

Her outfit remains something of a mystery, as the socialite is wearing a hooded cloak, made of silk and dyed to match the dark waters around them. It makes it difficult to perceive anything more than the occasional twinkling light as a stray moonbeam catches her garment beneath.

The sound of a chugging engine pauses her steps and she turns to look over her shoulder, eyes furrowing in a vain attempt to pierce the darkness. "I think I hear a boat," she informs him. "Do we know anyone else on the invite list?"

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian had an appreciation for Venice, he may like violence and war, but he also knows ghe beauty of art.

  Of course, not being one to shy away from any reason to dress up, he had on a costume appropriate for the renaissance period, his mask was that of the Plague Doctor, complete with the hat. Of course, without his batsuit, it was not hard to guess which Titan was the male one all in black.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna, for her part, seems to be cheating. Her costume is her black enamelled armor, complete with golden lasso hung at her hip. She did however bring her space pirate cloak, which glimmers with a million stars in the dark night. Her mask is a bone-white bauta, which she has topped off with a tricorn hat. It's a bit creepy really, but on the other hand the beaked appearance means her voice isn't muffled.

    People dismount from their boats - and in a couple of other cases, fly in. Brian and Janet aren't the only ones. Nobody from any group acknowledges anyone who arrived separately from them as they make their way towards the door, where the figure of Lord Merrihew, familiar to some of the Titans, waits to greet visitors.

    "Ah, our mortal, or mostly mortal, or pseudo-mortal guests," Merrihew greets the Titans with a bow and a flourish. "You all look magnificent. I deem it unnecessary to give you any grander garments than those you bring. While you are perhaps a little -- how shall I put it -- lacking in true Faery elan, it would be fair to say, people will appreciate your efforts."

    "Please enter, do. Be warned, do not let any food nor wine pass your lips! If you find yourselves thirsty, you will find jugs of water scattered around. These are filled from a Scottish mountain spring just a few minutes ago and as the water is natural to the Mortal realm and not of faery stuff, it is safe for you to consume without risk of debt or geis. Remember that whilst all who are here should be regarded as their masks not themselves, this only applies as the rules of law are concerned -- make no mistake, contracts remain binding! Agree to nothing whatsoever. This is, after all, a ball, and thus you may dance with the Fae without risk of finding the dance lasting longer than you may have anticipated. Talk is free, but words may not be -- ask such questions of any guest you deem may be required to help your quest, but be wary of the responses you are given. There are those who will try to entrap you! There is no malice in this, it's just our way. Be cautious and wary and all will be well. Please friends, enter freely!"

    Not far away, before they arrive at the door, Brian and Janet are met on the docks to receive a similar, if more brusquely delivered, set of warnings. In their case their greeter gives no name; he is dressed in full harlequin suit and mask, and capers almost unconsciously as he talks. The voice is familiar to Brian -- the strange man who'd told him about the party. Once he has finished speaking -- and he speaks quickly -- his eyes bore into to Janet. "An interesting companion you have brought, Lord Braddock. I will trade you four yarrow-roots from Malaysia for her. Each has been enchanted with a unique enchantment. No?" He shrugs his shoulders.

    "Very well. Make your way in, and find my Lord. You will know him by his antlers."

Xiomara Rojas has posed:
At this point Crush truly believes that the Fae aren't exactly the sort of creatures, er... beings she should be anywhere near. All these insane rules regarding just talking to them, and now even more connected to food and drink. Be cautious and wary, now that she didn't need anyone telling her.

"I don't dance," she comments to the Titans near her. "So how about I just wander around and listen to conversations taking place? Maybe I'll over hear something useful?"

Donna Troy has posed:
(Scene split, see https://heroesassemble.mushhaven.com/scene/scene.php?id=15175 for the other half of the action!)

Michael Hannigan has posed:
The rules listed get little response from Mike. Not even a head is nodded due to the implications of such an agreeing motion. Once welcomed in, he continues with the group's trek inside. As Crush suggests wandering and simply eavesdropping, the bird decked ball goer looks over to her, giving a nod. "A good idea." Mike replies. "A lot can be gained by simple observation."

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian's own cheeks had blushed under the mask. He knew how to dance. But he didn't do so often.

  The fae. Pfft, magic. He did not care much for such things. He much preferred Gotham, with all its faults. The Plague Doctor followed the outside, looking at the water spread out for them. "Water, thank you, moderate spenders." He comments, before standing in a corner, arms crossed in front of him.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Through the doors is a grand ballroom, floored in checker-board marble. The room is lit by hundreds of candles burning in floor mounted sconces all around the place, though the light seems brighter than you'd expect candle light to be. The walls are painted in a deep red, and decorated with countless paintings that seem to change every time you look at them, and the ceiling is a confection of sculpted plasterwork, dominated by a huge candelabra where dozens more candles burn. There are windows on three walls, draped with white silk curtains that reach down to the floor and pool around benches of mahogany and silvered ironwork.

    Around the edges of the room are dozens of small tables on which can be seen mountains of exotic looking foods and silver dishes. Each has bottles of wine by the score, and glasses of cut crystal that glint in the candle-light. A grand staircase leads up to what must presumably be the rest of the house, but it is blocked by a wooden stage placed in front of it, on which a faery orchestra sits, playing strange and haunting music on pipes and strings. Some of the players look human and are dressed as grandly as everyone else, while others are strangely misshapen, with absurdly long limbs, peculiar colors, and plant-like growths.

    The room is filled with people, similarly varied in their appearance, though human-like is the most common. Each and every one wears a mask -- Columbina and Bauta masks being the most common, though it is notable that volte masks seem most common amongst the most grandly-dressed attendees. A significant number of black velvet mute masks can be seen, exclusively worn by women who glide silently through the crowds, the deep blackness of the mask and the lack of any visible strap attaching them granting them exotic mystery. Gnaga masks are common, mostly worn by men but not a few women have them too. Scaramucchia masks vie with the even more grotesque Pantalones, some of which bear noses so long they exude a peculiar and mildly disturbing eroticism. Equally long-nosed but significantly more unsettling are the plague doctor masks, very few in number. Those who wear those tend to have less company. There is, intriguingly, only a single true Arlecchino, the harlequin who greeted Brian and Janet at the door.

    Nobody, it seems, pays any particular attention to the mortals as they enter.

Rachel Roth has posed:
    It is when the Titans arrive that Raven does. Conspicuously absent for the whole of this endeavor, Raven has been... Somewhere. Doing whatever unearthly things she does in times of need. When pressed, she'll probably say she was reading. It is vague enough. Reading books? Reading people? Both?

    Either way, her appearance is as sudden as it is without ceremony. She has not forgotten the dress code, but she is not quite cheating as much as Donna did. Her formal wear is that of an Azarathian sorceress, eerie in its perfection. The cloak, however, is replaced with a mask that clings to her face, hiding her eyes entirely with some black material that she can, clearly see through- but may not truly be material at all.

    The eeriness of the dress comes from the way that it blends into her, it has sharp lines, and yet where the ends of her evening gloves and thigh length boots meet the pale flesh of her body, where the dress ends just before her shoulders and hips begin, it is almost as if there is no seam.

    "Donna." She begins, as if she had been there the entire time. "I am going to read the room. I will need you to run interference."

Donna Troy has posed:
    An extraordinarily tall man with slender limbs, dressed in a long black cloak and black curl-toed slippers approaches Damian. Like the Gothamite, he has chosen to wear a Plague Doctor mask. "I would not touch the water myself," he says with a nod of greeting. "They say it comes from rocks. Can you imagine how unhygienic it must be? To drink a draft that comes out of the ground seems the height of folly to me. No matter! There is a superfluity of wines. The ones with the black labels with black writing on them come from the vinyards on my own estates. They are the purest wines you will ever drink; I cannot recommend them more highly."

    Where Mike and Xiomara stand in a corner to observe, they are approached by a pair of pale-skinned women with white gowns and platinum blonde hair, who may well be twins. It's hard to be certain because both wear those black velvet 'Moretta' style mute masks, like form fitting disks of velvet that hide their features, yet contrast strongly with the paleness of their skin. The approach side-by-side, but peel apart as they get near. Each offers a hand, one to Crush and one to Mike, and tilt their heads in the direction of the dance floor, an obvious invitation.

Brian Braddock has posed:
"Not that I can think of..." replies the Captain to Janet in her mysterious cloak. He considers the quay and other arrivals bedecked in their masks, recognizing no one. One or two voices may sound familiar, but he draws no conclusions. Instead, he offers an arm and tells Janet, "Now...this chap in the harlequin get-up ahead? He's got some serious eyebrows and serious attitude."

And lo, Eyebrows does. Brian is grateful for his mask; it means he takes all of the warnings from the individual with prerequisite grain of salt and plenty of hidden sass in expression. "No," he says shortly of Eyebrows' offer about mandrake roots. Nothing more need to be said, not with his steely-polite tone. That being said? Off into the stately, spectacular ballroom with the Wasp on his arm. Water is duly noted, rest assured.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
When prompted, Janet is an effective student. Not a scholar, not one to seek out knowledge, but the fashionista has a keen memory and an eye for detail. It's how she got her MFA in just a few short years and how she turned her family fortune into one of the biggest fashion brands in the world. So she did indeed do her due diligence with the 'homework' Brian had supplied her.

And one thing Janet recognizes about the Fae is their appreciation ... for style.

When she and Brian enter, Janet takes just a moment to pause at the entryway. One step before she enters the party she presses her masque to her face, staying in step with Brian, and walks into the ballroom proper. Fingers tug at her cloak and Janet removes the dark garment with a flourish, revealing the dress she's prepared for the evening. She seems to be wearing light and lace. It's hard to tell wheere the garment ends and where Janet begins. Spider-silk-fine strands float in the air around her with the faintest of breezes, each one bearing a shining iridescence that can only come from a diamond. One smaller than a grain of rice would be hard to spot but Janet's dress is made up of nothing but diaphanous material and thousands of those tiny gemstones. The dress comes to her knees, leaving one thigh and the opposite shoulder bare. The dress also leaves her wings on display, which flex and flutter once, then settle at her back. Even her masque is true to theme, somehow both obscuring her face with light and yet concealing little of her green eyes or regal features. r
When the harlequin offers to buy Janet she shoots him a look that most mammals recognize as an imminent threat to their continued health. Brian's interdiction is left uninterrupted until another Fae sneaks up, this time to address Janet. "May I take your coat, dear lady?" he offers, and extends his fingers turned up like hooks. "No," Janet says, firmly, and turns a look on 'the help'. "But you may hold it in trust for me for the evening. Return it to me after and be rewarded in gold. Keep it at your peril."

The Fae seems to accept this bargain with a mumbled 'agreed', and Janet walks on with Brian a few steps. "Help me get the lay of the land. Who here matters?" she whispers up at him.

Xiomara Rojas has posed:
Entering the massive dwelling, Crush scanned the immense room as she let out a low whistle. The orchestra, the dance floor, the tables covered in food and drink, for the fae anyway, then she finally says, "Dayum, these faerie beings now how to throw a party for themselves," as she looks toward Mike. "We'll talk later about you're being here, for now..."

It was at this time that the females approached and the Czarnian literally froze in place, eyes staring at the offered hand as if it was covered in snakes. It normally wasn't in her nature to panic, and yet there she was on the verge of panicking. She had no idea if refusing would be an insult, and all the reasons in the world to worry that accepting would be some kind of contract.

"Uhhhhh...." she finally manages to breath out... big, brawny, brave Czarnian taken out by the offer from a masked woman to dance. "I... don't know how to dance," she finally states bluntly. "I've got to pass."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna nods her head to Raven, and stands guard over the sorceress as she sends her senses out to see what they can pick up. It is only moments before the first potential interruption takes place - an elegant cat-masked man in a long flowing coat that has a hint of pirate steps up towards Donna. "A dance, milady?" he asks.

    "No," Donna replies curtly.

    "Would you stab me to my heart thus?" he asks, hand clutched to his chest, stepping back in mock pain.

    "I didn't bring my sword," Donna replies. "And therefore I cannot oblige your request. What kind of person do you think I am that you expect me to bring a sword to a ball?"

    The lips below the cat mask curl up with a bemused smile. "I did not mean it as a request, milady..." he begins.

    "I must have misunderstood," Donna replies sardonically.

    Raven's senses, potent as they are, find reading this particular room challenging. There's a lot of power here. A /lot/. Fae magic is slippery and changeable at best, and it's hard for her to make much sense out of it, but at a ball for the Seelie court, with many of the most powerful Fae lords present, what else could you expect? She does sense one particularly potent nexus of power out on the dance floor though -- A Fae lord seven foot tall, with a Bauta mask from which spreads a set of impressive antlers.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike's eyes take in the scenery as they come in, part of it comparing to the manner in which sets were prepared for the ball scenes in certain movies. He experiences no disappointment on the part of those working in that field. But there is a bit of disappointment to the piles of food on display. Never to be touched due to the cautionary rule. What a waste.

As the pair of masked persons approach, the raven's mask tilts to the side. Eyes remain fixated upon the duo before they split and then offer their hands. There was a rule about agreeing, but wasn't there a statement saying that dancing was safe?

Either way a long delay is not going to help matters. And being that Crush has opted to observe and Damian does not appear to be jumping for joy with the prospect of dancing...

Well the dance floor needs observation too.

The raven's head tilts once more to the dance floor giving a nod to the invite.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Xiomara's refusal elicits another tilt of the head from her prospective partner, and then a polite curtsey. She stands in front of Xiomara looking at her curiously, and Xio gets a sense of regret -- though no words -- from the mute-masked woman. She drifts backwards into the crowd, gliding as if she did not require steps to walk.

    Mike's partner takes his hand, and leads him out onto the dance floor. Although she leads him backwards into the mass of dancers, she doesn't seem to risk bumping into anyone -- the other dancers make way gracefully, as if it was all part of the dance. Partners spin and twirl and where they were a moment before in the path of Mike and his partner, now the dance has taken them aside.

    Once on the dance floor, the mute woman takes Mike's other hand and starts to dance. The music is strange and a little disconcerting, and follows a logic that seems alien to the musician. Yet it takes only a few moments with the expert guidance of his partner for him to get a hang of the rhythm, and he quickly feels much more comfortable. She tilts her head to the side, obviously questioningly, but remains silent, the question she's asking unspoken.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian's mask looks to the wines that the slender man mentioned. Though there is a bit of apprehension there when it comes to accepting it. He would take a look at the bottle, before just deciding not to take anything.

  He looks up at the other Plague Doctor. Unsure if this one is fae or nor and if such...ugh. Why are there so many fucking rules? He would say something, but he just sighs loudly.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Leaning in close to Janet for the sake of potential privacy beneath the rise and fall of the eerie dance music, his voice can be heard via the narrow slit carved into his mask's mouth.

"The antlers. He'll be the Lord we need to speak to, I was told by his emissary. Now, getting to him right now with the current swirl..." A broad shoulder lifts and falls in a subtle shrug. It's a supernatural swirl of fish out there and perhaps the only way through is dancing itself. Brian considers it. "Otherwise...so few aren't dancing. I'm wondering if they're not Fae themselves." Steel-blue eyes have indeed marked those not dancing and those recently arrived to be drawn into the swarm upon the beautifully-tiled floor.

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Raven dislikes the Fae. They are beings of inherent chaos, and while she is loathe to admit it, Raven teeters more towards Order. This is something she gets from her father. A manical, tyrannical monster that conquers universes as easily as a child plays with toy castles, yet, it is a form of order that he brings. Despite that it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, it is practically genetic.

    The sorceress stretches out. For a moment, she considers sending the man who proffered a dance to Donna farther away than even a fae would be comfortable with. She pushes that down. Part of this process is opening up- to sense the world around her, magically. Emotionally. It means that she needs to feel, and that means that some of the bars of her cage are wrought temporarily asunder. Worse still, it is not an easy job- which means that she has to do more. Feel more.

    She is not comfortable with unfounded jealousy. She files it away for later meditation. She also files a small note to make sure that Donna brings her sword to parties. For reasons.

    After some time in silence, she speaks. "There." Her voice is not as it always is. There is not only that mnotonous tone, but somehow there is Authority in it. Something somehow innate to the being that Raven is. She speaks with power. She is royalty. It can be... Unnerving, to some.

    "Large antlers. Bauta mask. Fae Lord. The most powerful here, but I can not tell if it is right for him to be so. An inquiry should be made."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet squeezes Brian's arm and nudges him into motion. "Oh him? Oh that's easy," she promises Brian, still speaking in that soft voice that manages to be intelligble even through a mysterious, fixed smile. Janet spends a moment or two watching them-- not the Lord himself, but rather the court that he holds around him.

The socialite's eyes narrow behind her glimmering mask and after a few minutes, she nods declaratively and tugs Brian's arm again to get his attention.

"It's the one in the blue," she whispers at him, and nods at one of the other Fae in the circle. "That's his guy. Uh, majordomo, I think they call them," she explains. Fingertip pressure encourages Brian out onto the dance floor and she adopts a butterfly grace, leaning on him and letting the brawny Briton set the pace for the music. "He's the one who decides who gets to talk to Antlers. See, he's the only one with his back to the Lord," she explains, and nods again. Sure enough, the majordomo's standing at just enough of an angle that he's conducting his own conversation, while watching the Antler Lord's back. It's a position of trust and invisible authority.

"You wanna make the approach, or do I have to figure out a way to cold call a Fairy Lord?" she asks Brian, and gives him an impish grin.

Donna Troy has posed:
    The other plague doctor takes a half step back from Damian and gives him a half-bow. "It's a shame, mortal. You would find the wines of my vinyard very much to your tastes, I think. These are not the kind of mortal wines you are used to, and you might find consuming some beneficial in ways you did not consider. Faery wines can be most potent!"

    "I cite to you the example of Damario Sanchez, a Spaniard who lived some centuries ago in your time. I cannot be more exact, mortal years bore me. He was much plagued by the forces of the inquisition, for he opposed them bloodily. Worst of all his foes was a Jewish sorcerer who was in the employ of the Inquisition at that time... I know! A strange and hypocritical state of affairs, but nonetheless it was so. He asked me for aid, and I gave to him one of my special bottles of wine. Once he had drunk it he was struck by a sudden enlightenment as regards the workings of shadow that allowed him to vanish when he chose, beyond the sight of any mortal."

    "Nevertheless, you are probably wise to refuse it, mortal. Who knows what would happen if you came under my power." He gives Damian another bow.

    Donna nods her head to Raven. "Let's go then," she says. Donna's nothing if not direct. If there's a Fae Lord here more powerful than the rest, clearly he's the one to talk to.

    So it is that Brian and Janet, studying the antlered Fae Lord, see that there is a way to cold call a Fairy Lord. Two figures, ones who stand out somewhat from the crowd in their manner of dress, have just brushed past the Major Domo by dint of telling, rather than asking: "We will speak to your Lord," Donna tells - not asks - him in passing, before pretending he doesn't exist and stepping up to the horned figure. "My Lord," she says. "We felt your power across the room. It seems inevitable you know what we're here for. Perhaps you know something of what we seek...?"

    Janet notices something surprising. One of the two figures approaching the antlered Fae Lord, the one in black with a tricorn hat and a Bauta mask, has a glowing golden lasso on her hip. Is it possible...?

Michael Hannigan has posed:
There is a bit of regret leaving Crush behind but as she had stated, she had felt more comfortable back there. Trusting her to make the decisions necessary to come out of the ball without conflict, all that is left is for Mike to focus on the quiet figure leading him to the floor. The manner in which she brings them there is of little concern. He's known dancers who were quite good with taking fast tiny steps that when paired with the right dress they appeared to be gliding.

The odd part was that the music paired with the music seemed off. And to one who has spent a long time learning to write and play new music on demand as well as just recently having refresher training on Victorian era dancing**, It just seems wrong at first. Inaccurate...Jus- Ok that's an odd time signature change. THERE! THERE'S THE 3/4ths! Adjusting and taking a few notes from stolen observations here and there, he's soon keeping in step.

The mute and the raven dance, seemingly having a conversation of head tilts and silence save for what may be uttered around them.

**Thank your local Count of Monte Cristo movie production... hitting theaters December 2023.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian listens to the Plague Doctor as he recounts the story. Though he does make a bow to the Doctor. "Even so, the offer was kind."

  Damian makes his way around to different beings, listening in as much as he could. At least he hopes he can find something out, the ability to ease in and out of actual shadows was tempting, but he'd never admit it outright.

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Raven casually retreats into herself. The emotions she let loose in order to engage the party's magical properties become caged again. It comes just in time to stop her from suggesting that they dance their way over, a final hint of the jealousy wanting to rub her relationship with Donna in the face of the masked would-be suitor.

    She is, after all, Pride. She has trouble with that part of her more than she has trouble with anything else.

    She does not float- instead following along in the mundane way and letting Donna take the lead, the quiet clacking of her heels discordant with the shuffling and noise of others' as they dance to the music upon the floor.

    "We are about to disturb the day of a Fae Lord. I would recommend a level of caution." she warns- but, Donna already knows that. She also probably knows that Raven isn't really advocating for a whole lot of caution. They're there on a mission for one of the Endless, and she'd rather any Fae court be upset with the Titans than even the weakest of the Endless be displeased with their efforts in returning a favor.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Mike's partner dances with a grace that might be described as almost supernatural if it wasn't for the sure knowledge that it /is/ supernatural. She seems content to maintain her silence and continue the dance. As the pair dance together, Mike finds the steps of the unfamiliar pavane more and more natural. Though it feels like she's letting him lead, and must look that way to anyone watching, he can detect subtle motions that guide him more by hint than lead. She really is an astonishingly good dancer.

    And yet she might be an automaton. The black disc of velvet hides any hint of expression as well as does his own raven mask, but coupled with the silence there's no communication beyond body language, and little enough of that. The lack of speech starts to feel a little overwhelming, and after a while Mike notices something odd -- the voices of the dancers around him seem to sound more and more distant. Even the sound of their footsteps fades into nothing. The music continues to play, but apart from that and the sound of his own breaths, all is silence. The dancers around him could almost be mute projections on a wall.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Oh yes, Brian knows this music well -- the way it wends and weaves and encourages step after step after step until the foolish mortals perish of exhaustion or finally give in to thirsting after a cup of cursed wine. Janet prompts him and he remains a solid anchor in the Fae-thick flow of dancers.

"I see someone else has managed to breach the defenses, so let's take advantage of it," he murmurs back to Janet as it appears Donna and crew have beat them to it. "Though maybe you know who's sporting that lasso? It seems familiar, though I can't put my finger on why." Artfully leading through the swirl, he and Janet in her diaphanous dress manage to practically wash right into the conversation.

For the immediate moment, he remains quiet and observant, blue eyes flicking from speaker to speaker.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As the nearby sounds start to fade away, the bird mask tilts, looking side to side before glancing to the black masked figure. Is it the music, or is it them that is causing for this effect? Well isn't this a tricky situation? With no knowledge of how long the song is going to last, he does give the dance a few moments longer for any signs of the song to come to an end. When the song ends, Mike stops dancing. The performer glances to the others and then back to the black masked woman. A bow of the head is given before he gestures in the direction of the water.

Making his leave he heads off to the sidelines, finding observation from the dance floor to be a lost cause.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Strange," the antlered lord says. His voice is rich and powerful, with the projection of a stage actor. "I had understood our visitors to be mortals, yet this is not entirely what I see before me. What then is this? A set of mysteries, as it should be. I see the machinations of Azerath, and a mystery that Myrddin has touched, yet I know not who might bare those weights upon their shoulders. I sense the hand of Olympus but see no child of The Lady's house. And in you..." he bows to Janet, "A mystery indeed."

    He studies the four standing in front of him a few moments, piercing eyes of emerald green shining through the eye holes of his narrow, high-cheeked mask, and after a few moments he gives a sigh and a slight nod. "This is perhaps not the right moment for this discussion, yet the discussion must be had. Let us to this without masks, but behind a mask we share."

    He spreads his arms wide, and the room empties. The music can still be heard, very faintly, but there are no fae around to play it. He reaches up a hand to take off his mask, revealing a face that the mask had clearly been closely modelled on, and that the antlers were not part of his mask but in fact grow from his skull.

    "My name is Auberon," he says. "And am the king of the Summer court."

    At the same moment Auberon removes his mask, the masks of the two Titans, Janet, and Brian, all disappear. "Janet?" Donna says, blinking in surprise at the pair of newcomers. "What in Hades name are you doing here?"

    "I have a name, then, for the greatest mystery," Auberon intones. "Janet. Welcome to Fae, Janet. For that is where you now stand. And you," he nods to Brian. "Are one of Myrddin's champions, though I get them confused. Arthur, perhaps? No, I have met him and you do not have his eyes. The new one then. A name comes to mind... Braddock? Troia, and Raven. Of course."

    Auberon takes a few steps to one of the side tables, and reaches for a glass of wine. The harlequin figure who had greeted Janet and Brian, the Fae with the eyebrows Brian had met before, fades into view, sitting cross-legged on the table, and offers Auberon a glass. Auberon stares at him a few moments before taking the glass and turning back to his visitors. "You want to know what happened to the four treasures," he says. "I did. It was my spell. I had to hide them. I am not so wise as my wife in these matters, and I did the first thing that came to mind that I knew would work. I would prefer you do not let anyone, particularly my wife, know that it was me who cast the spell."

Brian Braddock has posed:
Whether or not Brian intended it, he's brought himself and Janet into line alongside Donna and Rachel both. It makes the manner of the Antlered Lord -- no, wait, Auberon himself, King of the Summer Court -- all the more easy.

A quick glance to the others once masks are removed and Brian swallows carefully. So much for anonymity, even with the Fae Court itself summarily banished by a mere gesture from the King. Braddock, the King guesses, and subtly, the Captain inclines his head. Yep, Lord Braddock, that's him, Myrddin's latest champion.

A part of him dreadfully wants to laugh at Auberon himself with the fact of needing to hide the Treasures, but...

"King Auberon, what must be done to locate the Treasures should there be need to find them once more?"

Rachel Roth has posed:
    Raven is not used to being an afterthought- it is, again, the Pride. Normally, either she is not thought of, or she is the center of it all. She prefers the former. The latter... Usually doesn't end particularly well. Still, when Troia engages, there are questions. Observations.

    The Summer King lets something slip- that shows the weight of the situation. Auberon is not playing games. He isn't dancing around the subject. He isn't being /tricky./ He is, decidedly, barely even being a /Fae/ at the moment.

    When Brian makes his request, Raven is quick to respond, taking a step forward. For the time being, she ignores the use of Names. Calling Donna Troia is not a matter of observing her superheroic identity. Calling Raven... Well, Raven- when Auberon speaks it, it is because it is true. Others might misunderstand, but she knows. Rachel Roth is an Earthly formality.

    "I can secure the knowledge of your involvement, in return for knowledge of where the treasures are hidden, and how to retrieve them. When we depart, I can make all of us forget."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet flexes her fingers at Donna as if asking her the same question. "I'm doing a favor for Captain Britain!" she explains in a hushed voice, trying not to interrupt the others. "He needed a plus-one for this."

She listens attentively to the rest of the conversation. Britain had explained to her the goal here, and his purpose as one of the bridges between humanity and the realms of Faerie. Inasmuch as Janet could understand it, anyway. The exact role of Captain Britain is still a little hazy to her.

And she remains quiet up until Raven offers her deal. "Ah--" Janet lifts a hand in the air. "I -absolutely- do not consent to having my memories suppressed, altered, or fucked with in any way," she declares in a flat tone of voice. "Captain Britain asked the Avengers for help, I told him I'd pitch in. But my deal's with him, and limited by the terms of the arrangement he made with me."

Janet's no lawyer, but she's been around Jen Walters enough to speak precisely when necessity demands.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "There is a need to find them once more," Auberon tells Brian. "A great need. They represent a significant portion of the strength of the Seelie court. You can imagine what will happen if they are not recovered reasonably soon. The horns of war already blow, and I am not sure how well we will be able to face the Unseelie horde without their power. My wife tells me that balance is most important."

    He nods his great antlered head towards Raven. "If I knew exactly where they were hidden, the aid of mortals would not be required. I can give you some limited information. The spell I cast was in desperation. Four Unseelie lords had found their way to the treasures and were about to remove them. Were they to fall into the hands of Mab's court, the cost would be high indeed. I cast a spell upon them to hide that part of them that makes them treasure, rather than just object. The dweomer of each object is hidden beyond faery sight -- including my own. They will be in your mortal realms, on your Earth. That much I can be sure of. And like finds like -- the magic they represent knows its shape, and will seek some mortal equivalent. The spell would ensure they are somewhere protected. Something treasured. Find them, before the agents of the Unseelie court do. And allow the dweomer to find its way home."

    Donna nods her head to Janet. "We're doing a favor for... someone. I guess we're on the same mission here, then. I suggest we join forces. And before you ask, no we didn't bring Nadia today."

    Auberon waves a hand dismissively to Janet. "I do not require forgetting. Just the politeness of silence. What I did was not wrong, just desperate. I would prefer my wife does not know it was me who cast the spell, because... well, married life has its burdens, shall we say. It would be easier for all concerned, let us say. Titania can be quite /demanding/ when she feels she has some lever to push on."

    "My lord," the harlequin fae speaks up. "I may have some idea where one of the treasures can be found." He hopes to his feet and strides over to join the group. "I was following Lord Karok. He was wandering the mortal realms, speaking to mortals. His redcaps attacked this one..." he points to Brian. "I conclude that some mortal sorcerer may have located the first of the treasures and told our enemies where to find it. Redcaps though. What foolish creatures redcaps be! They could not control their urge to attack, as so often is the case with the little imps. In doing so they revealed to me their target."

Rachel Roth has posed:
    For a moment, Raven regards Janet. There isn't much to say there. Had Auberon wanted it, they would have forgotten. Not even by Raven's hand, but she would have been more delicate about it. Offering to do it for them was her way of securing the fact that nobody would have lost anything more than they needed to in the process.

    Despite this, Auberon is as the legends say- more benevolent than many Fae. He only asks for their silence. That is enough. When he describes the nature of the spell, Raven becomes lost for a moment in thought. An act of desperation means that while the nature of the spell is solid, it will have cracks. She can work with that.

    "I am going to start looking. The treasures will have found their accompaniment by now." Meaning, she is going to study what she can of the treasures themselves, as those are the clues to what they have become, and where they have transported themselves.

    It is with that declaration that Raven is ensconced in vaporous nothingness, as if her very own shadow had leapt up to swallow her whole. In the next moment, she is gone.

    Oh, how many libraries she's going to have to break into.

    Donna, for her part, is better at organizing- making the alliances, divvying up the effort with what they already know. She'd like to take Troia with her, but sadly... Now is time to coordinate. For now, they have to work separately, as much as she is only ever truly comfortable when she is by Troia's side.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna nods her head to Raven. The vanishing act is Raven things and to be expected. "Your information is useful," she tells Auberon. "We will do what we can do."

    Auberon bows low to the three remaining, then places his mask back on his face. Apart from the fact that there's a mask there, it makes little different to his appearance. As he does so the masks of the other three return, and the ballroom fades back into existence around them. Auberon turns to greet some other guests.

    "Right," Donna says. "Let's get out of here before someone gets in trouble. Janet, you and... Braddock was it? You guys need a lift back to New York? We've got a jet. I'm going to go fetch the rest of the Titans and get us all out of here. Before someone gets in trouble."

    She pauses a moment, thinking about the fact that Terry, Gar and Kian are somewhere in the ball room, unaccompanied. "If it's not too late already, that is..."