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Jotnotes

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  1. Bodice returned the toast, clinking her class against Ben's. The glasses appeared to be made of a fine crystal, if she wasn't mistaken and the Headmistress couldn't help but compare it to the glasses she had in her personal office. She wasn't positive, but she was fairly certain her own collection, made of finely-polished rose quartz and ringed with gold, were of a finer make than whatever the Emperor had put together. Not that they weren't fine, but she would keep this in mind for the rest of the evening. "To meeting old friends." She took a sip of the wine. It was dark, tart and flavorful. Delicious, as anticipated. She'd nurse it every couple of seconds, doing her best not to drain the glass while keeping the flavor palette alive for as long as she could. The book he was referring to was still back in her office, kept out of sight and thought for the time being. So her reflexive reach to her hip for it, and the subsequent clenching of her fist as she recalled it wasn't with her was noticeable if anyone cared to look. She couldn't help it: The tome, despite how little she actually did with it felt blasphemous to even mention, let alone possess. It was a page turner, as he put it. "You'd be surprised," She told him politely, but offered very little. What exactly could she say about it in this space? Attending a feast of blood, among some of the highest names in Genesaris, letting it slip that you have some damning secrets of any kind could potentially be political and religious suicide. Of course, it didn't always have to be that way. She didn't need to keep him in the dark forever, just for the duration of the party. "It's a peculiar thing," She mentioned politely, taking another sip of wine. "It has no author, and I haven't been able to find any references to it. But everything written in it is true, as far as I know. I suspect we could do a lot with its contents. It's worth its weight in blood, Ben."
  2. We're running on Brevity rules, so smol is preferable. It just needs to progress the thread in some way, however minor.
  3. Originally, she hadn't planned on walking the rest of the trip. She wasn't short on money, nor did her travels expect much in the way of discretion, as Lapelle Brouchard was largely travelling within learned territory. She wasn't too far from her family estate, or at least not so far as to begin missing it, which meant that she was most assuredly within her ability to take a carriage to get here. Yet, Lapelle walked. Why, she wasn't completely ready to be honest with herself about that, instead choosing to bury it beneath the veneer of wanting to get a leg up on whatever exercise doubtlessly awaited her. Or perhaps she wanted a chance to take in the scenery, and admire the beautiful trek towards the academy. What a walk it was; the blossoms on the trees were still struggling to open, and those that were bloomed bravely against the hot sun in the sky behind their branches. The air was crisp and clean, and were she wearing less layers, she suspected she probably wouldn't have been chilly at all. The walk behind her, and the academy ahead of her, now, Lapelle reflected briefly on why she was here. That feeling she'd had at the parade--was it passe to call it a vision instead?--of the dragon, the blessing she'd received. Well...she had no idea what to do with any of that, at least, not on her own. She admired the path towards the main building beyond the wall as she approached the front gate. It was a charming building, clearly well-made and built to last, and certainly not unoccupied, as there was already someone waiting beyond the gates, sunning themselves while indulging a cup of tea. She approached them without ceremony, fairly confident she'd been spied a while ago. The elf was well-dressed in some of Umbra's finest, with a comfortable red silk shirt beneath a long-tailed white coat adorned with buckles and pockets, and a pair of unassuming black trousers and tall white boots, made somewhat muddied and green by her travels. Her hair was done up behind her head in a tight bun to keep it out of her eyes. She didn't bother too much with makeup, although she did keep a small compact in one of her myriad pockets, as well as a dagger strapped to the jacket's interior. Not that she expected she'd need it, of course. "It's a fine day for a cup of tea," She mentioned spritely as she greeted him. "May I ask; what are you drinking today?"
  4. With my post for Quill done, I believe it is @Zashiii 's turn to post, assuming they are around. If not, @Tyler can write as them in the next cycle, and I can put out a post for Maat within a couple days. I can provide maps, information and context as required, as always. DM me for those if you need them!
  5. Quill stayed close to Iohmar as he led them down the hall, towards the direction they'd approached the door from. The interior was cold, and hostile; the reigning silence didn't fit a human structure of this size. Never mind how forlorn and alien the empty shop had felt; here, in the corridor there was nothing that spoke of the vessel's humanity. It was a cold, metal cave, and she was trapped in it. Trapped was, in fact, the word to use--nothing else suited the tight, metal coffin they'd found themselves besides the very word. She stared skyward, and wondered if the rain and wind was so horrible that she preferred this cramped space over it. Neither was particularly more appealing, so the tabaxi elected to remain with her companion. Ideally, that'd keep both of them safe. They stopped to examine some kind of massive growth of bone in the hallway. Rather, Iohmar investigated it, while Quill kept a safe distance. "Right," She stepped into the next room behind him, fixing an eye on the bone and flesh boulder...thing. "Because that's not insane at all." The duo stepped into the next room, where Iohmar reached through the boxes on the floor. This room was filled with them, tossed all over the place. They were probably on shelves at one point--there were flat metal shelves underneath the boxes, but no legs, or arms of the shelves to be seen anywhere. It was a bit of a disappointing revelation. A metal pipe or bar or something would be really useful now. However, she did find the next best thing. While Iohmar cast down the box he was looking through and moved his attention elsewhere, Quill spied a large collection of items in a box near the bottom. She reached in and withdrew a large, metal flashlight. She clicked it on. Nothing happened, as the flashlight had no batteries. She sighed, dismayed, but held onto it anyway. It was heavy, and might be useful later. Hopefully, for bashing in a window, or breaking apart some wooden barricade, and not for clobbering a monster in close quarters. She turned to Iohmar as he finished his own search. "I don't think I can keep anything down." She replied uneasily. She followed his lead, and passed through the hole. She hadn't focused on it at first, but the hole in the wall wasn't meant to be there. It didn't exactly look sundered, or torn through, but more like the meta had either rotted away, or naturally receeded. Looking at the strange, veiny growths within the steel walls and roof, and the outcroppings of bone from the ends of the wall, she understood right away why he'd made the connection to the crop in the hall. They certainly seemed as though they could be related. "You don't suppose this...thing did all this, do you?" She asked. Iohmar ignored her, fixated on whatever he'd found in the next room. Quill followed him in, but couldn't see past him. The cramped, red closet was filled with bright lockers, reflective white paint on the lockers identified them as emergency supplies. Whatever Iohmar was looking at was inside one such locker, lit up by a discarded light on the ground. She looked at it. It wasn't exactly a flashlight--more like a mountable emergency light. It'd probably be a pain in the ass to carry around everywhere, so she didn't touch it. Instead, she tried to edge around Iohmar to see what he was looking at it. She immediately wished she hadn't. Inside the locker, trapped within the steel of the ship, was a face. A human face. The pain was etched into his features, the creases in his face recreated faithfully by the twisted steel. The mask wrapped around his mouth and nose appeared to be working for him. He breathed painfully through his emergency oxygen supply. She stumbled back, feeling nauseous. "Oh my god, what the fuck?" She murmured, bile forming in her throat. She turned away as he disabled the life support. The dying man's breath grew louder and louder, echoing from all directions at once, drowning out the other sounds in the ship. She closed her eyes, and held her breath, and waited for him to die. Eventually he did. Quill turned back to see Iohmar and the dead man...speaking. Sort of. Iohmar had taken the man's mask, and put it up to his ear. She watched, growing increasingly distressed as time went off, more so when he repeated what the...mask said. "Can you not stare at me while talking to a dead man?" She complained, stepping away from him. She considered brandishing her flashlight warningly at him, but decided not to. Things were tense enough, without her trying to bash her only company's head in with a busted light. But being in this room was making her so agitated. Quill threw her arms up and walked back towards the room they came from, but stopped when she and Iohmar both spied the same locker. The locker was opened up, and the metal within was warped and blistered. the paint was fading in some parts, melting in others. The air within felt as though it were boiling before them, and deep in the back of the locker, painting in bright orange paint was the phrase "Away from the Orange!" Written in Orange, from a green can of paint. "This must be what you were talking about," She mentioned to him. She reached towards the locker door, and jerked her hand back as it burned. "Ow, fuck! What the...." She glanced at her burned arm and screamed. The fur on her arm, where she'd gotten close to the locker was changing. It was growing, stiffening, and contorting in all directions. The folicles twitched and flailed uselessly in all directions. Quill watched, transfixed, until both her and Iohmar moved away from the locker. Iohmar hadn't seen her arm change, and she moved towards him quickly to show him. "Hey! Hey!" She yelled, trying to show him her slowly changing hair. "There's something seriously wrong with--" She, again, fell quiet, as they took in the body before them. Leaving out of the closet door, the duo moved down the remainder of the hall, to the communications station near the stern, and in the corner of that space was the twisted, mangled remains of a man fuzed to the intercom system. She stared at his slowly rotating limbs, the way the meat and bone and connecting bits popped and snapped as his arms continued to twist around and around and around, being devoured by a nearby machine. All the while, a horrifying static sound escaped his lips, though the man was long dead. Quill turned away from the buzzing man and screamed down the halls, unable to stomach the tension anymore. "What the fuck is this place!?" She wailed into the cold, empty void.
  6. He waved at the leather clad huntress again. "How's it going, toots?" He replied with a wry smile. Kian's ears twitched as he scrutinized the tigress. If there was a collective of catfolk, he hadn't met them before. They were just speckled throughout the population, as most people were. So, with an unconcerned shrug, he answered as best as he could. "Lady, I was born with the ears, and so were my folks. That's how catfolk work. Catfolk, tabaxi, uh....felinids? I think I heard that one somewhere. Just...people with cat ears and tails, really." It wasn't totally true. There were cat-like shapes to his face and eyes, and doubtlessly to the rest of his anatomy, down to the muscle and bone. His stare flit from tigress, to runesmith, to bounty huntress. The tigress' meal arrived, and he watched somewhat impassively as she began to eat, and declined politely when she offered him some. "I'm good," He promised, leaning back from the table a bit. "I ate like ten minutes ago." Priscilla looked carefully from person to person to tigress, respectively. It felt a bit like old times, like some odd sense of nostalgia. Were her situation any different, the runesmith would have loved to embrace the spirit of adventure again, to abandon her craft and return to the road and ruins of the open world. But not this time, not until this situation was put past them. "It's funny," Priscilla mused, trying to sound as polite as she could, while responding as impolitely as she could. "I don't recall offering to pay you to speak. Keep your theories to yourself, hm?" Priscilla fixed Dia with a steely gaze, until the demon hunter shrugged and went for a cigarette, which let Priscilla drop her disapproving stare as well. "The deed is mostly likely being held by a dead man. Specifically a dead man's family," Priscilla explained. She noted that Kian perked up at that. Weird, but she'd worry about that later. "We'll be trying to track the last known location of his family estate, and either lifting it off the family, or digging it out of the ground. The catch is; I don't know which, yet. Which is where you, and you," She indicated Kian and Dia respectively. "Will come in. I'll need your uh...I dunno, bodies to guarantee we get that deed. That deed will give me exclusive rights to an old mine the previous owner ditched, which will make me the rightful owner of everything the kobolds are digging up." Priscilla shrugged. "Possibly no resistance?" She suggested. "But this is technically grave robbing at the worst, or property theft at the worst, and neither are very easy to justify to the authorities. If things get ugly, I expect you to keep me out of their reach. Hopefully, that doesn't mean by chopping their arms off." Priscilla glanced around, from the curious-looking Kian, to the eagerly-feasting Torie, and the bored-looking Dia. They seemed capable enough. Surely this could be taken care of by just them. "Any more questions?" She asked.
  7. Today's sketch is from what I hope is an original take on a Great Old One. Gaze, if you can, upon the Altruistic God. She is home and mother to an infinity of secrets and truths, and keeper of celestial knowledge. Deep within her scarred and barren womb, the original sparks of the cosmic truth still linger, waiting for those foolish enough to seek it.
  8. I think we were supposed to get a post from @Hydrangeas this weekend, but they must have gotten busy. I'll have a post up sometime tomorrow when I'm able! Hydrangeas, you have all the information you need to get your post up whenever you are able. Try to get it done when it suits you!
  9. I apparently made two of these? Wow, my attention span is lacking. That said, if I could get a post from @Venus Sprite whenever you're free? We'll start the pacing as soon as you're able.
  10. Here, of all places? Bodice doubted that sort of privacy was available at the Feeding. Really, that was the Emperor's fault, she supposed, as he almost certainly should have expected some kind of deviance from the night's scheduled activity. She watched as somebody almost familiar passed by them, and thought about the sort of company she should expect. With this many fine, attractive, young and above all, wealthy people in one space, she really couldn't imagine keeping her hands to herself forever. The Headmistress gave Ben a sly smile of her own, and took hold of his arm as he offered it. "Something older than me, ideally," She replied with a shrug. "Out of a bottle, too. I'm not a fan of the ah....cuisine served tonight."
  11. Priscilla spun in her spot to see the familiar-sounding speaker, and felt her spirits climb. Of course she recognized that voice; how could she forget the tigress who made this whole mess possible? Priscilla tried her best to keep up with every question, but failed miserably before Torie hurtled past her to get a seat. Priscilla shrugged haplessly at her back before following her in. "Sure, why not." She raised her voice. "You want to hear more about the job? Come to the table with me and the tiger." The runesmith salesman strolled after Torie, and ignored the sparse eyes on her and her company as they found a nice place to sit, until one particular patron spoke up as she passed by. Priscilla casually reached for her belt, and opened her coin purse, and plucked a canvas sack from within. It jingled merrily, until she tossed it on the table where the tigress had led them. She flashed a smile, sharp as daggers at Dia. "Why don't you take a seat?" She offered. "I'll get you up to speed." As the party sat down at the table, and Torie had her chance to order, Kian watched with great interest. He'd perked up after hearing the coin purse jiggle, but hadn't really cared about her job offer until he'd seen the group she was amassing. The catfolk watched with curiosity from his table, straining to listen in as she spoke. "I'll keep it simple and catch everyone up to speed. Torie, there's so many kobolds now, and like ninety five percent of them don't know me at all!" She told the tigress eagerly. "They're doing well, though; Shank put out some kind of notice to other kobolds, and the mountain is crawling with them. The incoming resources out of it is so steady, I'm well on my way to recovering my whole business. I even have a place I'm thinking of buying to convert into a workshop. And that's...where you all come in." "Hopefully, we aren't killing anything, but I'll keep that in mind," She promised. She reached into her jacket, and pulled out a scrap of paper, containing her notes. She explained her request: the three of them would follow up on this lead she found, and try to figure out where the previous owner of the mine lives, or if he's dead, who might have inherited his belongings, and recover the deed. Once she had it, they would get paid out, she would legally own her mining operation (which she would then give to the kobolds, so they could not be evicted) and her business would be stable. Any money or work that occurred along the way, then, was to be negotiated as it happened. "Best case scenario, we're looking at a day's travel to catch up on this lead, and find the deed. Worst case scenario: we come up empty handed, and you get paid anyway." She told them. "Any takers?" Kian raised his hand behind their table. "I'll take it," He offered. The runesmith glanced back at him. "Great," She gestured towards the table, and Kian joined them. The catfolk twitched his ears as he looked at all of them. "Hi," He waved nonchalantly. "My name's Kian. My hobbies involve digging up stuff that people buried."
  12. Okay @Hydrangeas Your map is available! This map should show you every area available for you to explore currently. As always, let me know which rooms you'd like to explore, which paths you'd like to take to get there, and anything else you'd like to explore. As always, I'll let you know if something is unlikely or impossible, as well as provide you details and information via DM's, so please reach out to me in private for that!
  13. So a fun little note about this software I use is that it doesn't support any copy or paste features at all, meaning you gotta manually rebuild anything you'd like to add to your maps, which in this case means painfully recreating the dimensions of the boat as best as I can so each floor as a similar layout (which, by the way, shouldn't be accurate, cuz the boat should be getting thinner at the bottom, but I need this space for cool stuff so I can't disrupt it too much)
  14. I'm trying to set all three groups up with a unique and terrifying experience. If yours ends up being a bit dull to you, by all means DM me discreetly about it so we can amp up or tone down the action. @Hydrangeas your map should be up tomorrow!
  15. Bodice listened attentively to Nesy's explanations, maintaining a disciplined straight face--or possibly even an unimpressed scowl--while they explained themselves. They talked a lot, which made it difficult to keep pace with their thought process, which was otherwise legible. The Blue Room slowly filled with more visitors as time dragged on; the headmistress could see them moving around behind Nesy while he went on. Bodice waited to see if he had any more to say. It didn't seem like he did, and the Headmistress spoke her mind. "That sounds...stupid," She said slowly. "You seriously expect ten thousand people of different species and ideals to come together and overcome past prejudices? Why not simply install yourself as the leader, and make choices that best benefit them on their behalf? You claim to be an extraterrestrial, non? Surely your citizens would be in no position to argue, and you likely have your own needs and wants met. Why the need for democracy of all things?" At around this time, the grim, otherworldly voice of the Emperor reverbrated throughout all the rooms, silencing their discussion. Bodice glanced up, and listened to his words with earnest. It disappointed her that this event was thrown for his new bride. In other business ventures, she would have simply flirted her way into their good graces, but that felt like something of an impossibility. She supposed that wasn't too great of a barrier; Bronte was easily one of the great prides of the Dominion--getting resources for upgrades of any kind probably wouldn't hurt her that much. Which reminded her of Nesy, who was still close by. When the Emperor finished speaking, she shifted her disposition to him, just a little. "I regret having to cut our conversation short, Monsieur Nesy, but I'm afraid I have more people to see tonight. Perhaps we could arrange a little time to discuss business between Folkstown and Bronte, hm?" She flashed him a warming smile, as somebody approached the two of them to address her. She could very clearly recognize Ben, even in the odd blue lighting. Her eyes narrowed upon catching sight of him and like a phantom limb, the flesh-forged tome she'd pulled from his brain throbbed ominiously, though it was nowhere near either of them. From this great distance, she could feel the heat of his touch, the taste of his sweat on her tongue. She turned her body to face him, and nodded cordially. "Monsieur Benjamin. It's a treat to see you again!" She cooed at him. "Let's see...last I saw you, we were having...a moment, oui?" She took the time to glance back towards Nesy, and give him the ghost of a smile. "I apologize, but I must take this. I would look forward to hearing from you again sometime, however." @CelvestianNesy @danzilla3
  16. I'm deadass looking forward to having Bodice try to tell the alien that Social Democracy is dumb. It's gonna be like when you need to come up with arguments against your own position.
  17. Bodice managed to keep herself on her feet, thankfully, though her heels had to dig into the floor to do so. Were she a stronger woman, they might have left imprints in the floor for years to come. Instead, they only held her upright, which was plenty. She didn't see the person she'd bumped into until he collided with her, and even then she didn't recognize the body she stared daggers into on the floor. Hands balled together at her sides, piercing gaze levelled on his mask, the Headmistress stared at him as though he'd done more than just stumble into her. And he almost did. Had she fallen to the ground when he'd hit her, she didn't doubt it would make the rounds. Her ego would bruise just as easily as her flesh did, and she could suffer no such indignities. So it was with a certain amount of annoyance that she approached him on the floor. He adjusted his helmet, so she fixed her stare directly into the front of it, where she assumed the man's eyes were, and lifted one foot and rested it on his sternum, and she pressed down, heel-first, until she saw some kind of physical reaction from the downed person. "You are incredibly, incredibly fortunate you didn't knock me down," She said slowly, clearly. "I do not take kindly to being battered like a common whore. Watch where you are going, or next time," She pressed down a bit more before easing up. "Next time, I'll put these heels through your chest, oui?" She let up, and a moment afterwards grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet and, as if she'd done no wrong to begin with, dusted off his shoulders. Bodice didn't know who this was, nor did she recognize his clothes, or his accent. A foreign visitor, perhaps? A philosopher, by the sounds of things. She didn't have much use for a philosopher, but politics and theory were always useful, yes? She straightened him out and then fixed him with another stare. This one seemed a little less 'Touch me and I'll break your face.' and more, 'You have my attention, now do something interesting.' "Now, start again," She instructed the stranger. "Introduce yourself, and tell me why you happen to be crashing into people."
  18. @Tyler I'm very sorry to keep you waiting! Here is a shot of the map for you! I'll be DMing you to tell you any relevant information, and you can discuss how you'd like to navigate the space provided to you, and so forth. I'm going to be touching up all these maps so they look good at the end. Which I hope is useful to you, as you'll be seeing a lot of this boat for a bit.
  19. No worries. Bodice can be very patient. ^^;
  20. Heya! This is the OOC for the thread 'Dirty Deeds Don't Come Cheap'. This is where we'll be keeping close tabs on the posting schedule, asking any questions that might be relevant to the thread or our ability to write, and a general information-keeping place. The cast for this thread is: Me, playing as both Priscilla Arrettle, and another character, who I'll post later. @Venus Sprite and @Houndy Poochykins In this thread, we are following, or at least trying to follow Brevity rules, which you can find here. To put it simply, though: You have a word limit of about 350 words, and each time you post, it must advance the scene in some way. For example, your first post in this thread will introduce your character, and have them interact with any information from the last few posts in the round to move things along. Respond to other questions and comments, interact with the environment, try to make something happen, etc. There's a 3-day posting order, so you'll need to get your posts in quickly and on time to keep things moving. If you have issues with that, speak up quickly, so we can decide how to respond. And lastly, your posts should always move forward. Contribute and add to what's happening. Keep it goin.' That should do it! Please when you have the time, drop your character sheets below, and get a post in when you can.
  21. Tick, Tock. It is Two in the afternoon in Vdara, and as the Great Hands of the Merchant Guild's Grand Clock strike the hour, the persistent tick, tock, tick, tock gives way to a heavy fourteen dings. The Merchant's Guild is a business dependant on maximizing your actions per second, and the Grand Clock is never wrong, by even a fraction of a second. To this unstoppable beating of the great mechanical heart of the merchant class, the due process of all things relied. Punching in incoming merchants available for trade happened precisely every second, the big board that displayed the names of every Merchant, Trader, or Professional in the building was updated every thirty seconds. The dull unison of stamps firing off at the same time as paperwork was processed every minute. The guild members were slaves to the deep, invasive ringing of the ancient clock, and ever should they be. Priscilla waited in line to leave, mixed in with the other guild members. She had further work to do, yes, but this work had to be done outside of the walls of the guild, off the records and beneath the table, and possibly not in sync with the clock. The line in front of her dwindled as exit forms were stamped, until it was her turn to go. She handed over her license, thick with empty and filled pages alike, and the clerk flipped to the latest page and stamped it. The edge creased, making it easy to find later on, and just like that Priscilla could escape the great ringing clock of the Merchant's Guild. She hurried along, eyes trained dead ahead as she moved towards the tavern at the end of the road. She'd already been in there once, early in the week, to try and encourage a few takers. Hopefully she'd enter, and find a few people curious about the job. She reached the end of the street, and pressed forward, stepping into the dimly lit bar. She held her breath and glanced around. Okay, she thought. Let's see what I have to work with. "I'm looking for anybody who's here about the ad I put on the board outside." She said loudly. "Any takers?" @Houndy Poochykins @Venus Sprite
  22. That I am. I'm currently talking with @CelvestianNesy (after somebody else posts, of course! Wouldn't want to clog up the thread ^^) But if you wanna write it sooner, we can do the side thread thingy?
  23. Ok I was wrong. Gonna get this up in the morning cuz I'm tired from doing other stuff.
  24. Oh dang, there's all sorts of people in this thread I know! Sweet!
  25. [Blue Room] The sound of her heels clacking on the floors didn't sound quite as familiar as she would have liked just yet, and right away, the Headmistress made a note to appreciate the novelty of the space before it became mundane to her. After a dozen or so visits to this space, or perhaps even few than that, the sound would get old. Oh, she could change into shorter heels, or adjust her attire so the glinting baubles on her novel footwear didn't jangle as much on impact, or she could even refuse to use her legs altogether in the future, but the sound one way or another would get mundane. Knowing well in advance that this sound was as temporary as her time here, Bodice Brouchard stepped to one side, and the young man holding on to her arm did so with her. She'd arrived a bit later than some of the other swingers, it seemed. Bodice looked from face to face as they came into view, looking for familiar figures. She anticipated at least a few would be visible at some point, but in the gentle, almost coddling blue lighting of the first room, she didn't see any she recognized. Nor did she see Him, of course, but that was to be anticipated. Naturally, he'd be in the furthest room, deep into the writhing, churning bowels of this beastly estate, in all its macabre glamor. She stopped her looking around and reached up to squeeze her date's face. "Now, mon cher, let's not forget our rules, hm? Be on your best behavior, do your best to meet your father's standards, and above all else--do not try to get my attention for anything other than an emergency." Zalygos, already familiar with her rules and strategy, nodded simply and gave her a pleasant smile. "Of course, Headmistress. As you've asked." She quirked a small smile at him, and patted the cheek she pinched before giving him a kiss. "Good boy. We'll speak with your parents after I've had a moment to get my bearings. Now go mingle." Zalygos left without much of a word, and Bodice watched him walk away. She doubted he'd spend the night alone, nice boy that he was. He had good graces, a fine family lineage, and was surrounded by aristocrats. It didn't hurt that he was handsomely dressed, and already cut a gorgeous figure. She suspected if she left him alone long enough, some other woman her age would scoop him up and take him home for her. Comforted her escort was almost certainly in good company, Bodice turned her attention to her own interests. At the end of the night, she needed to have a word with Him. It was, if nothing else, the most important conversation she could have tonight. Oh, she'd mingle and communicate, and see who she could get her hooks into. Almost certainly a few people here could offer her something beyond the basic pleasures of flesh and wine. She may find them, and strike up an agreeable cooperative action of some sort, or, if that wasn't possible, she could worm her way into their resources through someone else. For every useful person in this building, there was almost certainly one person who was a few kisses and some softly-spoken words away from giving her an in. After all, as pleasant as it was to have Zalygos around, he was primarily a result of a number of repeat visits to the Kallar Estate, and particularly the Senior Kallar. Now, Zalygos Kallar in his own right was both a debt to be paid, and her route into this party in the first place. But, first things first. Bodice needed to get familiar with the registry. She could take a few trips through the facility, and stop to talk with whomever caught her eyes. Some nice words here and there could prove useful in the meantime. She cast a glance around, and tried to catch the eye of any new arrivals. First room, right? Had to be where everybody started. (I'm currently open to a conversation with whomever! Come say hello! <3)
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