Session Five: Masque, Let the horomones rage! XD

[Ven'n]

Ven'n hated about any kind of social function so much that she had privately decided that they had their own ring in hell. And there was so much to hate; the brown-nosers, having to dance with hammered lordlings who believed they stood a chance of gettng you in bed, having to deal with said lordlings trying to get you in bed once off the dance floor, wanting so badly to be somewhere else during all of the above and being stuck there till the gods only knew how late...

And, of course, the kicker: the damned clothes.

With that thought, Ven'n resumed pulling at the collar of the frock coat that was currently choking her, hoping that it didn't end up ripping on her. Ven'n hated dresses; in fact, she hated them so much, and had so violently protested against wearing them that both her father and her maids had given up a long time ago on trying to get her into anything remotely resembling one. So, to some degree, she had control over her clothes for the event; that was about it.

Finally, Ven'n was satisfied with her appearance, to some degree. Her short hair was slightly ruffled, save for the side braid, same as always. The cream-colored frock coat she wore was unbuttoned, veined through with silver threads where it wasn't covered in owl feathers. Her shirt was the same color as her frock coat, except for not being veined through with silver and made of a lighter material; her pants and boots were leather, and also shared the same base color as her coat. The only adornment she wore, besides a pair of silver earrings with small, dangling ebony pendants, was a well-hidden necklace beneath her clothes, consisting of a simple black cord and a pewter dragon pendant.

"Well, let's get this over with," she muttered unenthusiastically.

With that, she slipped on the all-white mask that covered all but her mouth and her amber eyes, and headed to the ballroom.

[Alex Charaday]

Groaning, Alex Charaday waved at Mandy's hands which were it felt like choking her. Damn corsets, damn them all to hell. She HATED getting dressed up. Sadly, Mandy her co-sentry of the moment, said their master insisted on attending the Bastion's annual masquerade. And guess what you kiddies. They got to wear FREAKIN' FANCY CLOTHES.

Of course to blend well, they must wear the same attire. As for this reason Alex was currently hopping on a vanity stool, trying to get away from Mandy. "Ice, help me!" The feline merely purred, seemingly smirking from her post on her bed. The room was rather fine, considering her master had attempted to get her a nice room at the Bastion.

She faintly wondered if the two week spanse from which she'd run away from Ven'n would effect being attacked by the "princess". Wrinkling her nose at the dress Mandy proceeded to hold up and cut off her thoughts, the brunette reveled in her self-control to not spit on it. The dress was a beauty as much as she hated to admit it, but there was NO way she, Alexandriana Winifred Charaday would be caught dead in it. NO WAY IN HELL.

"Your wearing it Ms. Charaday, master insists."

Damnit.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Zanisha needs to get on so Makoto can like, cater or something and run into Alex...I'm using this pretty Italian dress designs ^^

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

The Count twirled a gold coin between his fingers, surveying his new estate. Workers buzzed around it in drones, repairing, renovating, and otherwise improving the old decaying mansion. A new, ornate gate was due in tomorrow, elegant curves of iron designed to form the title "Auteil" for newcomers to gawk at. Well, once the landscaping was done, it would be hardly noticed.

He tossed the coin into the air and swirled his cloak on in a instant. Deftly snatching it on its journey down, he made his way down the path. The stars blinked calmly above him, all the stars in the universe... and he had already visited them all.

They were trapped in the navy blue of the cold Hollow Bastion night sky. Light, shrouded in the dark emptiness of space...the Count grinned coldly as he gingerly placed his hat on his head. The irony couldn't go unappreciated.

Anveil was supposed to be prepping the horses now. The Count sent some servants to prepare the carriage and others to retrieve his mask from his quarters.

He had a party to attend.

[Alex Charaday]

Sighing, feeling defeated, the surly brunette sunk to the bed in a taut corset, and undies. How she got wrapped into this, she'd long forgotten. Pulling up her hair Mandy came around from the other side of the bed and clasped the crystal necklace in place at her neck base. Dropping the mass of her from on top of her head to she felt for the cool crystal.

"Alright, alright. Shoo now, you go get dressed, I'll...I'll finish up here." Waving at Mandy to leave the younger girl scurried out. She SHOULD feel like a princess getting to attend the famed ball thingy but too bad. She felt trapped.

"If only Makoto was going..." She paused in her stoop to pick up her dress. Well THAT thought surprised her. She hadn't reminisced about that certain fellow in a while. Standing up straight she put her hands on her hips and tugged at the corset lace. Cocking her head to the side she walked to the window layed her cold palms on the sill. Looking out she could see the village and the busy bodies getting ready for this fancy ball. She felt like she was back in the far off 1700s or something.

Smiling she back tracked and daintily picked up her dress. It was a lovely brown silk with gold embroidery in a criss cross fashion, not what you would normally see at a Masquerade...or on ALEX for that matter. Slipping into she went to the pink and white vanity. Over time she'd gotten used to the colors. It was about seven in the evening...and she was finally okay with this ball thing...sortof.

Picking up the golden feline mask she placed it on her soft complexioned face. Red jeweled beads were at the center of her eyes, and exagerated lashes protrued from the eye holes giving her violet eyes an eerie emerald glow. Dark brunette hair flipped out behind her, a wavy touch to the light ringlets. Whiskers reached out past her cheeks almost to the dangling earrings she'd gotten from Makoto's shop.

Argh, there he was again in her thoughts! She would have to see him soon if she wanted to stop thinking about him...

Grabbing her dress she picked up the sides and began to run out when she felt kitten teeth nipping at her ankles.

"Oww! Ice what is it--oooh..heh, yeah...I don't suppose you want to carry them to the ballroom, do you?" She could have sworn the cat glared at her.

"Fine, I'll carry the shoes myself. I may be in this wretchedly nice outfit, but I refuse to wear shoes till I must."

And with that she was out in the hallway ready to either find Makoto, be trapped by Mandy, or run into someone unexpected. Whichever came first she supposed.

[Anveil]

In the stables, Anveil was tightening the last band on the shining black leather saddle on the Count's steed. Anveil was already in his dress uniform, provided by the Count himself. White pressed linen slacks were tucked neatly inside polished black leather boots, the lacing of which reached the bottom of his knee. A black uniform reminicient of Napoleonic times completed the costume.

Looking at the leather straps of the saddle, a malicious thought crossed his mind. All it would take is a slight loosening of the straps, and the Count would trouble him no more. Anveil was familiar with this horse, and it had quite the temper. But as soon as the thought appeared, Anveil shook it from his head. That wouldn't be honorable, using the same deceitful tactics as the highwaymen. He would wait for his moment to strike, and face the Count in a duel, between two men of honor. Anveil walked the horses towards the awaiting carriage, biding his time.

[Ven'n]

Ven'n watched the ballroom from her perch in the balcony, cradling a glass of red wine in one hand. This spot was always the best to observe from... not to mention to hide from drunk, horny lordlings.

She was watching the floor for one person in particular, though, no matter how difficult it could be, seeing as it was a masque and all.

She'd attempted to chase the sentry after her escape from the Chapel, but she'd lost her somewhere in the tangle of the halls leading to the Lift Stop; she hadn't been seen since. As for the brat... well, she wasn't too sure as to what had happened to him, as she'd been cornered by two bickering ladies of the court.

Ven'n'd been paying careful attention to the idle gossip that her maids didn't think she heard for the past week or so; she'd learned long ago to listen, because the servants knew everything. Nothing of experiments or shadow-creatures had come up, but, still...

If that girl was going to be here tonight, she'd make sure that she was silenced, one way or the other.

Seeing no signs of the sentry, Ven'n decided to play one of her favorite games to keep her amused at these damned functions; See How Little the Women Are Wearing. Ven'n would bet that, among all the ladies here, she was the most covered-up; the women seemed determined to flaunt everything they could, even if they were lacking.

Hmm... that one's bodice was straining to cover her chest.... that one's skirt left nothing to the imagination...

[Anveil]

Almost to the carriage, one of the horses Anveil was leading bolted towards the forest, startled by something he couldn’t sense. Anveil’s hand caught in the horse’s tethers, and he was pulled off his feet and thrown to the ground. The foreboding trees approached at breakneck speed. Anveil knew his chances of survival decreased significantly in the midst of the trees, so he had to try to get out of this quickly. He noticed a large boulder, and an opportunity, on his left. Rolling in the boulder’s general direction, Anveil braced himself for impact. The horse’s tethers hit the rock and wrapped around it, whipping Anveil around and smashing his chest against it. The temperamental horse was forced off its feet due to the sudden stop, and it finally calmed down. Anveil rose to one knee, nursing his ribs. At least two of them were broken, and his hand that was caught in the tether was injured badly. He rose to his feet, and surveyed the rest of the damage. His uniform was in tatters, and he had scrapes along the length of his body. Helping the horse to its feet, Anveil limped back in the direction of the carriage, hoping he wasn’t too late. And that the Count had an extra uniform.

[Ven'n]

Ven'n dispassionately watches the swirl of the colors and costumes below her, having tired of her game long ago. Instead, she looks among the crowd for her father, wondering who he's been cornered by now.

She finally finds him, the telltale black among the swirl of bright colors. He looks distinctly uncomfortable, and is quite possibly looking for a way out, or at least for another glass of wine; his is empty. And then she realizes that it's a delegation from the provinces that she's heard much about, who want to know what her father is up to here, who have their suspicions.

Part of her is resigned to the fact that she has to go down and mingle at some point in the night. She'd rather not do it this soon, but knows that, if nothing else, she at least can be by her father while she faces the brown-nosers and the drunken lordlings. It's far prefferable to having to deal with them alone.

With that resigned thought, she makes her way into the fray, hoping that she can get this over with soon enough and retreat back to her perch.

~x~

...We seem to be unable to decide on tenses, ne?

[Cloud Strife]

At the entrance of Hollow Bastion, in front of the massive, ornate doorway, a small puddle of darkness flowed from the ground. The mass of pure shadows expanded to about 3 feet or so, then stopped growing, but was still pulsing with dark energy. From this pool, two Soldier Heartless slowly came forth, dragging a human between them. They had surprised and kidnapped the warrior known as Cloud Strife. They mumbled and jabbered to each other in the Heartless language, unintelligible to all but those with the darkest hearts. They were pleased with their prize, and hoped that their master would be too. As they dragged Cloud along, the pool of shadows slowly dissipated into nothingness. When the Soldiers brought their prisoner to the door, one dropped the arm it was carrying, and brought up a clawed hand to the door. Knocking boldly, the Heartless was requesting entrance to the castle from which itself had came from.

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

The Count heard frantic neighing and pounding hooves from a distance as he shrugged on his elegant costume. Calmly, he walked out onto the balcony to find Anveil limping out of the forest, leading an equally injured horse towards the carriage. He sighed inwardly. The mechanisms in that particular animal had been off kilter due to the wavery darkness in this new world. He had planned on adjusting the horse's internal surveillance system later, but simply forgot to mention to his squire that that particular horse was...out of commission.

A foolish oversight, He thought to himself, turning and ordering that another suit and several medical supplies be brought down for his injured squire. But not a terribly damaging one.

Gently, he slid his ornate snake mask on as he stepped into the hallway. He twirled his gold cane lazily, making his way to the carriage, quite at his leisure. Arriving fashionably late would only enhance the meaning of his visit to the castle.

He arrived at the carriage as the doctors and tailors were finishing up the repair of his squire. Ignoring the activity, he swept into the plush belly of the expansive car. It would only be a little while before Anveil had been spruced up, albeit the noticable limp and heavily bandaged arm. Well, the Count would come up with a way to use these to his advantage. No matter.

A slow grin edged itself over his face. It was going to begin soon.
----------------------------------------------------
Whatever man, I'm using past tense

[Ven'n]

Ven'n was quickly growing tired of the delegation's endless questions. At first, she'd been worried that they'd really known something about what was going on here. But now, after verbally poking and prodding them for the better part of a half-hour, she knew that they knew nothing about their experiments, and that it was just unfounded rumors running round the provinces. Still, it couldn't hurt to be too careful.

Quite frankly, Ven'n was tiring of them, and was quietly thinking of ways to have them deposited into the Waterways and never heard from again.

And then, distantly, she heard the sound of a small hand knocking on a marble door.

It was so soft that it could barely be heard over the revelries of the ball, and Ven'n questioned hearing it for a moment. But then it came again, soft and insistent.

She quietly excused herself from the delegation, glad to be rid of them for a bit, but sorry to leave her father with them. After weaving her way through the crowds, she came to a quiet, secluded balcony that offered her an excellent view of the facade of the castle. Quietly thanking whatever was looking out for her that there was no one out here, or on any of the other balconies, as far as she could see, she quietly scanned the area, looking for anything out of place.

She found it in the pair of Soliders that carried an unconcious, dangerous-looking blonde between them, knocking at the doors to the Entrance Hall.

What. The. HELL?! Hadn't she taught those damned things NEVER to use the front door, especially when there was a major social function going on and for sure never when they had another potential test subject?!

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" she muttered under her breath, weaving through the crowds again, back towards her father. Plastering on the smile that was exclusively reserved for the delegations and nobles, of which there seemed no end, she sweetly asked, "Excuse me, gentleman, but I need a word with my father."

With that, she almost forcibly dragged him away from the nosy delegation, through the ballroom, and into the hall outside the Grand Ballroom. Ignoring his extremely annoyed and/or confused expression -- she couldn't tell which -- she swung the doors shut behind them, so that they were alone in the hall. "Ven'n, what on Earth-" he started, but Ven'n, body near collapsed against the door, interrupted without looking at him.

"It's the Heartless. They've got... someone, I don't know who, with them, and they're at the front gate."

She could almost hear her father paling in his response. "Heartless. With a capture. The front gate?" She nodded. "If anyone sees those things with a person... if anyone finds out..."

"Not going to happen," Ven'n stated, finallly thinking clearly. "I'll get him-"

"It's a he?"

"Yes, Dad, I'm pretty sure that it's a guy. I'll take him from them and drop him in the Waterways. We'll figure out what to do with him later. As for the Heartless, if I get down there quick enough, they'll disappear. And, hopefully, when they see how angry I am, they won't do this again."

"May it be so." Another pause, then a hand on her shoulder. "All right. Go take care of it. For the most part, anyone who's going to be here has arrived; there shouldn't be any danger of anyone seeing you. And I'll be sure to keep anyone trying to leave here in the next half hour in there."

"I shouldn't need that long..."

"Just to be safe." His hand squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I am so proud of you. I don't know if I've told you this lately, but..." He cut himself off. "Go. Before someone sees."

She nodded, and ran off, not allowing herself a glance back. She hoped she wouldn't draw attention to herself, and that no one would stumble on the Heartless' prisoner.

Before she knew it, she was down at the Entrance Hall. She swung open the front doors, livid and stomping towards the Soliders. Sensing her anger, they chittered briefly and dissolved, not wanting to face her wrath. Ven'n was able to catch the unconcious blonde before he hit the pavement, although he almost took her down with him.

She gave him a brief once-over. His hair was a radioactive shade of blonde, in spikes that seemed to defy every law of gravity that she knew, like the Rising Falls. He looked like a mercenary, which meant that she did not want him waking up before she dumped him in the Waterways.

Grabbing him under the arms, and getting ready to drag, she assesed her options. There was the lift that went down to the Waterways not a few feet away, but it wasn't the area that she needed.

Which meant that she'd have to take him through the Rising Falls.

A good fifteen minutes of dragging later, Ven'n was at the bottom platform of the Rising Falls, damp and tired for all her efforts. That armor, coupled with the dead weight of his body, was heavy. And she still had to drag him through the water, and through at least six or so locks before she could properly deposit him and make sure that he couldn't get out. That meant getting herself wet, which was inevitably going to raise questions that she wouldn't be able to answer.

She looked up at the Rising Falls around her, and yelled, exasperated, "Is there anything else you want to throw at me?!"

Ven'n recieved her answer in the six mechanized horses that raced past her, dousing her in spray. The car that they pulled stalled, and the mechanized horses stopped with it, tossing their heads, impatient. Obviously, this person didn't know where to go.

And then the window near her rolled down, and Ven'n realized that they were probably going to ask her what they needed to do to get to the Bastion proper.

Of course.

~x~

Long post, I know. But the moment Cloudo posted what she did... hell, the ideas started running.

Take it away, Monte Cristo Hakushaku!

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

Well well, thought the Count as the window slowly crawled down, eyes gleaming with a mad joy. Speak of the devil.

He waited an appropriate time for the taut suspense to mount before drawling quietly at the dripping girl outside the window, "Hello, my dear. That's quite a heavy load you're carrying."

----------------------------------

I need Anveil to do something, or Ven'n to, but I certainly can't carry on a conversation without Godding someone. So take it away!

[Anveil]

I won't be able to move the plot along too much, but I'll see what I can do.

---------

Anveil sat in the carriage opposite the Count, facing backwards. He kept his eyes on his feet, away from the Count’s piercing gaze. There was just something about those eyes--something he couldn’t put his finger on. But that wasn’t his first concern now. The only noticeable injuries were his crushed hand, dislocated shoulder, and the gimp he developed, but his ribs were what would really hurt him later on. If he had to duel anyone, or, heaven forbid, dance, he would be in a lot of pain. More than he probably could stand. But, of course, that’s something he’d have to deal with.

He felt the Count’s eyes shift out the window, and, as he couldn’t see what was going on, waited for his employer use whatever was happening to his advantage. And to Anveil’s disadvantage.

[Ven'n]

Ven'n forced a smile, biting back a sarcastic response. It almost escaped her mouth; only her years of dealing with the court prevented it from doing so. She was dripping wet, dragging an unconcious, heavy, armor-clad body, pissed off, and really not in the mood to deal with a blatantly obvious, deliberately annoying comment.

And then she realized something.

She was wet.

And she was wearing white.

...Fuck.

Trying to supress a blush, she adjusted her hold on the body. With any luck, the man in the car -- she really couldn't see what he looked like -- hadn't seen anything, and anything that could be seen was covered by the body now.

"Is there any way I can help you?" she asked, trying her best not to snarl.

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

The Count couldn't help but to grin sardonically. It was always a treat when the prey knew the game.

"Nothing except that you care for your own well being, Madmoiselle," he replied evenly, the words rolling off his tongue like sugared honey. "That's quite a burdensome dead animal you have there. I assume it was of the livestock that had been sick? It's very good that you had it put down. The bad apples must always be weeded out to preserve the others, don't you think?"

He extended a graceful arm out the window, gloved hand uncurling with practiced ease. "If it pleases you, Princess, I would be quite enthralled to assist you. A magnificent lady such as yourself should not be subject to such trying circumstances, and unless I am very much mistaken, those clothes will be ruined."

----------------------

Gotta love the Count.

[Ven'n]

Ven'n quirked an eyebrow at the response of the man in the car, careful to keep her face otherwise neutral. Apparently, he couldn't tell that the body in her arms wasn't that of some animal, but a man's. Well, the body did look like some kind of livestock... so long as he hadn't figured out that it wasn't a person, there wouldn't be any questions, and she was perfectly fine with that.

She quickly assesed the forearm that uncurled itself from the womb of the car. The hand was covered in an elegant white glove, standard dress for just about any noble out there, as was the hint of white cuff and gold cuff-link that peeked out from under the suit coat.

But it was the suit coat -- at the least, what she saw of it -- that caught her attention. The cuff of that was at least as wide as her hand, with golden curls sewn onto scarlet material. The material of the sleeve was black, with iridescent red-orange flames racing up it.

If she hadn't already been intrigued by what she'd heard from him so far, his clothes would have done the trick. She'd never played along with anyone else who'd tried anything like this on her, but she felt in the mood and intrigued enough by this mysterious man to play along.

"I would appreciate the help, good sir. So, you will be helping me yourself?"

She smirked quietly, wondering how he would respond to her own little curveball.

~x~

Yeah, I actually went and looked at a picture of Le Comte for the description. ^^ Can't wait to see where this goes...

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

She is very lucky I was the first to stop by, thought the Count, who was not so simpleminded as to confuse livestock with the bloodied body that hung like a dead weight over the sharp woman's shoulder. And it seems she has as sharp a mind as her parents. He resisted the urge to laugh out loud. How thrilling!

Nevertheless, the Count curled his lips into a congenial smile. "I'm in no hurry, Princess. I would be delighted to assist you. One moment, if I may?"

He turned to face Anveil. "Anveil, continue on to the Castle. I will be taking two horses, and the Lady and I will join you later. Do not enter the ball until we arrive. Take the time to care for your injuries. Oh, yes--and watch for bandits, won't you?"

Without another word he stepped out of the carriage and swept an extravagant bow to Ven'n, daughter of Ansem. Almost as if on cue, two of his powerful, mechanical horses were detached from the rest, and the reins handed over by his servant.

"Thank you, Baptistan. Now, my lady, allow me to escort you and your package to your destination. If would permit me, I can sling the body over my horse and we can be on our way."

He moved the horses forward as he too shifted closer to the woman. "I do hope you enjoy conversation, my little Princess. I dearly love it on horse rides."

[Anveil]

Holding back the anger the last words of the Count founded, Anveil waited for the Count to fully exit the carriage before moving. Making sure the door was shut, he quickly switched directions and sat where the Count had been. He inhaled sharply as he sat down, then settled into the seat as one approaches a frigid lake. It was better than an ice pack for his injuries. Anveil chuckled inwardly. He never would have thought this oddity of the Count’s would have actually been a good thing at times.

The carriage eventually reached the Bastion, and felt the best way to help himself heal was to catch some shuteye. So, until the Count got back from his ‘mission’, of sorts, Anveil will try to sleep a bit. And, considering his present condition, it shouldn’t be too hard.

[Ven'n]

Ven'n smiled quietly, glad for the company, not to mention to be rid of the dead weight she was nearly collapsing under. She gave whoever was in the car a quiet nod, and stepped back, giving them room to get out.

She caught the tail end of a conversation... something about being careful for bandits. She knew enough court banter to know that it was a remark aimed at a sore spot for the other occupant in the car. Ven'n, sadistic little bitch she was, would've loved to have seen how the one the remark was aimed at reacted, but the man who came out of the car had her full attention.

There were four things she noticed straight off the bat -- his skin, his eyes, his hair, and his ears. But mostly his skin. It was a pale blue, the color of the water... the color of a corpse when it's pulled out of water, her mind morbidly filled in. His eyes, oddly enough, complimented his skin color; one was the deep green of an emerald, and the other was a dark red, like a ruby... like blood her mind filled in, once again. And his hair! It was a blackish-blue -- she couldn't decide which, really -- wavy, and longer than she'd seen on any man. Hell, it was longer than she'd even seen on some women! It hid almost all of his pointed ears, which were pierced with a gold stud. Now, she'd seen plenty of oddities on the nobles, but almost none with an earring!

But, otherwise, he seemed normal. The only other facial hair that he had was a smart little goatee that only added to his air of sophistication. And his clothes, aside from the suit coat, seemed completely normal -- the standard white silk cravat, a black cloak, pants, and patent shoes, and a rather large top hat that he donned only after bowing to her.

At the same time, the two lead horses detached from their harnesses, almost automatically, and Ven'n soon saw why that was.

They were machines, and intimidating ones at that. She was pretty damned sure that those things had red eyes, and if that hadn't intimidated her enough, the black, plate-like metal they were made of probably would have.

But she was quickly snapped out of it by the Count's whisper, nearly into her ear. Where did he get off calling her his princess, much less little, a pet peeve of hers? Yeah, he was at least a head taller than her, but still!

She shook her head, trying to bring herself back from wherever she'd drifted off to. Damnit, she was her father's daughter, and she wasn't about to be reduced to a stammering ninny in front of a complete stranger, no matter how handsome he was!

...Wait, had she just thought handsome?

Mentally groaning in exasperation, Ven'n gave him a quiet smirk, and uncerimonally dumped the body over his horse.

"As do I, good sir," she finally responded, mounting the mechanical beast. "However, I cannot guarantee that we will be able to speak on our way to our destination. I do hope you can keep up, though."

With that, she spurred her horse forward, and into the lake proper. The water was freezing, but Ven'n had already gone swimming here enough to be used to the cold shock by now.

She stopped the horse in front of a large air bubble, and turned it around, waiting for the man to catch on. After all, she was pretty well soaked by now -- but that would be solved soon enough --

-- and she couldn't hold her breath forever.

~x~

This is the one advantage of getting your sisters' sickness; being able to write long, involved, detail-ridden posts. ^^

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

He watched her gallop the horse forward, determinedly not looking back at him. His head cocked to one side, as though surveying the worth of an exquisite painting, as she continued on.

This was going to be fun.

The Count leapt atop his horse, adjusting the body to lie securely between his body and the horse's neck. Clucking, he kicked the horse into a trot, disallowing any semblence of hurry to show in his actions.

The ripples of water around his steed's hooves trembled and mixed with hers as he approached. Leaning almost lazily against his saddle horn, he commented, "You must excuse my bovinity. This is a very new area for me, and I am still at a loss as to the function of the bubbles. They cannot simply be for decoration."

The mechanical stallion beneath his snorted and pawed at the solid water, splashing the Count. A second later, he nonchalantly brushed off the frost crystals that had formed on his skin.

"This is such a frigid temperature, my dear. Are you sure you'll be alright, in those wet clothes of yours? It wouldn't do for you to fall ill at this time. After all,"--and here he brought his horse to stand parallel to hers--"I've only begun to get to know you."

[Ven'n]

Ven'n smirked outright at him, glad at least for the upper hand in knowing the layout of the Bastion, however slight it was. At least it was a cover, however thin, for her irritation at his blatant flirting with her.

"You'll see soon enough what they're for. If you'll just follow me," she trailed off, leading her horse deeper into the water, deliberately leaving the last question unanswered. After a certain point, she waited up, the horse's hooves barely touching bottom; they had to do this at the same time. She heard him following not long after, and waited til they were even to continue forward.

The moment both of their horse's hooves touched the bubble, they were drawn down into it. Ven'n's hands tightened around her saddle horn.

She hated this part.

In an instant, the world was spinning around her in a dizzying blur, wind gusted around her, and Ven'n focused desperately on the saddle horn, hoping that she didn't end up throwing up.

When the whole nasty business was over, Ven'n was decidedly queasy, but it quickly passed. And her clothes were dry. So, it all worked out.

Their new environment was decidedly darker and damper than the one they'd been in before, and Ven'n guided her horse over to grab a torch on the wall. With it, she could see far enough ahead of her to tell where the next set of locks was, and where the switch to unlock one set, and lock another.

"I'd watch where you guide your horse. Some of these locks are electrified... it would be a shame to lose such a magnificent horse," she warned, turning back to him. The sadistic part of her was eager to see how he'd reacted to their little trip.

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

The Count of Monte Cristo raised an eyebrow as the woman neared the bubble and warned that they would have to go at the same time. Go where? asked the quizzical side of him, but he quelled it quickly; the passage of time had taught him the value of waiting and watching in moments he didn't grasp completely.

Together, they led their horses into a bubble. Almost immedietely, like a spinning whirlwind, the Count was sucked in to an oppressing pressure sphere that sunk below the water's surface and reemerged in a completely new location. If he wasn't already the color, he feared he might have tinged blue at the sickening suction-like force of the bubble. Finally, the roar subsided, and he and Ven'n were left in a hollow, damp network of caverns. Torches crackled on the walls, casting a weak, primitive light on the rough hewn walls.

He turned to face the innocent bubble, intrigued. Well, that's new. I wonder how Ansem had the time to think of such nauseating transportation in my absence?

"I'd watch where you guide your horse. Some of these locks are electrified... it would be a shame to lose such a magnificent horse," she said, snapping him out of his pensieve thought. She had a torch in her hand and had a steady yet low gaze on his face, as though scrutinizing him.

The Count blinked, almost dazzled by the sudden burst of light, but quickly regained his balance and smiled broadly. He sensed, perhaps, some dissappointment from his reaction. Well, what he she expected--him to shiver and chatter like a babbling nobleman hit with a cold shower?

Oh, no, he conceded to himself, drawing off his own experiences with nobles, The dreadful part is, such an assumption wouldn't be too far from the truth.

"Do you believe my horse magnificent, then, Princess?" he said finally, patting its flank. "If you do not object, then, I would be honored to present you with it as a gift." He made as deep a bow as the saddle allowed. "In the meantime, we should hurry and dispose of this--ah--cow. After all, there is a ball we must be attending, no matter how much more satisfactory one feels away from such social functions..."

He lifted his hypnotic eyes to meet hers.

"...alone."

[Anveil]

“Zzzzzzzzzzzz…”

Outside the parked carriage, a small band of vagabonds slinked towards the Bastion. The leader, a 20-odd-year old woman, held up a hand, signaling the party to stop. The snoring coming from inside must have intrigued her, as everyone was supposed to be inside reveling by now. This guy obviously can’t hold his liquor, she thought as she opened the door.

Through the open door, she saw a well-upholstered interior, and, sprawled out on the rear seat, was a slightly bandaged man, sawing at logs in his slumber, undisturbed by the invaders. The leader motioned for a few of her mates to follow her into the carriage to rummage about for anything of value.

[Ven'n]

Ven'n may have looked slightly disappointed at the man's reaction to their transport, but she was quite honestly impressed. Most others would have been puking up whatever they'd had for their last meal after that lovely little trip.

Quite honestly, though, she was a little shocked to recieve the horse as a gift. She wasn't about to object -- she knew how rude it would look, and, oddly enough, she rather liked the creature -- but there were two major concerns of hers. First off, there was going to be the explanation her father as to why there was a mechanical horse in the stables. Second off, there was going to be the question of how to keep it functioning. Well, she'd just have to ask him about that later.

But the comment about social functions hit home. Ven'n turned away, not wanting him to see the reaction he'd gotten out of her. Was she that transparent, that he could've been able to hone that wit of his at her?

"You've caught me, sir," she said tonelessly. "If you will follow me..." she trailed off, starting her horse.

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

He inclined his head with measured aplomb and nudged is horse into following her. The small reaction at his last phrase was slight, but he caught a wisp of it anyway.

She is so like her mother, he told himself, not without a hint of sadness--and hate.

Nevertheless, despite his composed stature, his insides quivered, and not only from the lingering after effects of the bubble, nor the fleeting explanation. It had been too long since he'd last taken his medication Grimacing, he discreetly rooted about his pocket for the small pill box.

Ah, foolish me, he sighed in his mind after coming up with nothing. I left it in the carriage.

He slowed his horse a bit, keeping a careful eye on his hostess, and gently tapped one of it's glowing eyes. A holographic screen popped itself up silently above its flicking ears and he swiftly manuevered it to display the sight of one of the horses that had pulled his carriage.

A dark stable filled the screen. He pressed a couple commands into the menu and the camera swiveled, surveying the area. Several shadowy figures suddenly appeared in the corner, dashing about in dark clothes.

Very furtive, he observed. Maybe Anveil is indisposed? Perhaps I will allow the poor man a wake up call. Sighing, he absently punched in the code to send the horse into a frenzy, and dismissed the screen.

The Count looked back up to eye Ven'n. He very much hoped she had not noticed his momentary preoccupation. It would not do for her to get suspicious.

He shrugged. He could still come up with an excuse. He was good at that.

[Ven'n]

Ven'n's hands tightened around the saddle horn when they weren't flipping the switches to work the locks as they went further into them. She made no move to talk to, to look at her escort; as far as she was concerned for now, he didn't exist.

Mentally, she was berating herself for being so transparent, that she'd let her guard down around him without even thinking. She'd learned from years of dealing with the nobles that every last one of them would sooner prey on her weaknesses than befriend her -- and even then, it was only to get at her father. Why should this one have been any different?

Finally, she reached an area that had enough locks unlocked that their guest, for lack of a better word, could move around freely, yet was closed in enough to not pose a threat.

She heard the quick typing of fingers on a keyboard, and looked back over her shoulder, slightly suspicious. But all seemed well with her escort, and she really didn't feel like talking to him at the moment, outside of what was absolutely necessary.

Speaking of which...

"If you'll just leave the body here..." Ven'n said, turning her horse away. "We can go back a different way... one that won't get us nearly as wet," she commented dryly, trying to hide the slight chattering of her teeth and the shaking of her body. Apparently, she hadn't gotten into the bubble soon enough, and the chill of the Waterways was starting to get into her bones.

No matter; she would hide it from him, even if it killed her. He'd broken down enough of her barriers for one night.

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

His eyes passed briefly over her when she stopped and told him to leave the body behind. She seemed...uncomfortable? Disturbed? Irritated?

Whatever it was, it would pass soon enough.

"As you wish, Princess," he accepted, inclining his head to communicate his assent, and slid off the horse. A few minutes later and he had leaned the body in a very comfortable position against the wall. If she noticed that he had adjusted the unconscious burden to sit in the posture of a human, so be it. The charade was quite useless once they were alone. He was certain that she wasn't so foolish as to take his words as face value, anyway.

Oh, dear lord no. She was incredibly perceptive. Incredibly...perfect.

He leapt back on his horse and bowed to the venerable Lady. "Lead the way."

[Ven'n]

Ven'n watched her escort out of the corner of her eye, trying desperately to supress the chattering of her teeth. Christ, it was colder than she'd ever remembered down here... then again, she hadn't ever been down here in semi-damp clothes.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw the position that he put the body in. Might he have guessed...? She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts, and drew her still-damp cloak around herself, trying to stay warm. The suspicion stayed in the back of her mind though.

"If you will just follow me," she trailed off again, gently nudging the horse forward. "The way back will be a bit longer, but we won't have to use those damned bubbles again," she said, shivering. "And we'll actually be inside the Bastion proper where we come out. Unless you need to return to your car...?"

[Le Comte d'Monte-Cristo]

"Actually, there is something I must attend to at my carriage," he answered. "Not to mention I have a squire. I do hope you meet him at the ball. He has recently suffered an injury, and might feel rather out of place with such venerable company."

He noticed her shivering. Was it because of him? Or the damp aura of the Waterways? It was probably a combination of both.

"My dear, are you alright?" he came closer to her, sneaking his hand out of its glove. It was best for her to know what to expect when near him. "You look...cold." Briefly, he brushed his hand against hers, then turned quickly to cover the disease marks on his hand with the glove. Her reaction to the sensation of his skin would be fascinating.

He smirked as he faced away from her. Let her report that to her father.

[Ven'n]

Ven'n shivered as his hand passed over hers, a jolt passing through her, eyes closing briefly. She wasn't entirely sure whether it was because of the simple skin-to-skin contact, or because of what his hand felt like. It felt cold, almost colder, than the air around her... or maybe that was the air around them. She wasn't entirely sure...

"I'm fine, but I thank you for your concern," pulling her cloak closer around herself and trying to suppress her shivers. "I'll lead you back, then. Most people who haven't been here before tend to get horribly lost, no matter where they end up." She tapped the horse's sides, and started it in the direction of... And then she realized something.

She didn't know his name.

"I'm sorry; I've been talking with you all this time, and I don't know your name. Please excuse my rudeness," she apologized, giving him a brief bow in her saddle. "May I have your name?"