High-Soci—A Dance with Death, Act 4
Alexander89
Pet the pretty kitty? Y/N
- Location
- Italy
Lelouch's Roll:
11 successes.
11 successes.
[X] Plan Mocking Whispers
"Boss? Maybe you should stick to the plan? I...don't think you're calm enough-"
Oh, you're calm. You're perfectly calm. You're so calm you can see with perfect clarity how to make those bitches choke on their own wretched words.
These two think they have a poor little Baroness cornered. But they are wrong. They are rank amateurs compared to the vipers in the royal court. "Well, of course I know most of what happened in the Middle East, Countess." Your tone is sweet, the venom in it subtle. "My brother Julius often wrote to me, praising Princess Cornelia's accomplishments on the battlefield, before he made the ultimate sacrifice for Britannia."
A note of pride, of patriotism. You see some of the nobles in the peanut gallery raise their glasses in approval. Britannia loves its martyrs, and to disrespect them is suicide. "It's only natural that I would wish to know more about the woman he idolized, but as much of a miracle it would be to hear from him again he can hardly tell me more from the grave." You say with a hint of sadness, lowering their guards before the metaphorical knife deftly goes in. Your target is Lucinda D'Este, the woman whose every subtle hint is telling you is holding the reins. "But I'd suppose your families go to quite some lengths to make sure you never have worry about such things, don't they?"
You twist the knife, opening a wound and exposing horrid truths. They're parasites married to parasites. Their lives amounts to nothing of worth. The greatest sin a Britannian noble can be guilty of is being weak, and that a mere Baroness would dare accuse them of it only makes the truth of their deficiencies all the more apparent.
Lucinda and Marion recoil at your words, from both the subtle accusation and the shock of a noble of rank lower than their own being the source of it. Lucinda has it worse, the power of Oramus twisting her mind as she begins to hear mocking, hallucinatory whispers at her expense from the crowd, always from someone out of sight. Not that the people within earshot aren't already thinking similar things, the force of your words too strong to be denied.
"You have graced these halls only for the past hour, what could you know of us who have walked them for years?!" Marion spats. She realizes her mistake only when Lucinda turns around to glare at the fellow noble for speaking without her input. It's clear to you Marion's speaking first was something they planned beforehand, in order to gather the initial attention on her and allow Lucinda to strike unexpected. Alas, it was not to be.
"Do I need to have walked these halls to take an educated guess?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and barely keeping an openly mocking edge out of your voice. Then, before they can reply, you launch into outlining their day-to-day lives. Every word that passes your lips is polite, and you deliberate sprinkle your speech with the most flowery, elaborate, and grandiose descriptions you're capable of, but in the end it's obvious what you're describing amounts to nothing more than a life of posh primping, pandering and being treated like a dainty princess.
It's with no small satisfaction that you watch their faces lose ever more color as you speak, but despite that you stoically force your own expression into one of longing, as if you envy that kind of life. Of course that's bullshit -in truth, you're barely holding back a cruel laugh- and everyone present know it, but that's what makes your covert dressing down sting so much more.
"Sadly," You conclude with faked regret, "My own everyday life is nowhere near as glamorous. After all, it's not like holding what's left of my family together through this loss and working tirelessly to live up to Julius' deeds could compare to a dilemma as difficult as trying to guess how much cleavage your dress can show before it becomes a social faux-pas."
"Booooss! You really, really need to stop!" Seyrun's voice cuts through the sheer pleasure of seeing those harlots shrunk back like the pigs they are, fear and despair plain on their faces. "Your caste mark - the false Dragonblooded one - is showing!"
...Is it?
"Don't worry Boss, I am reasonably sure the two females are simple humans. So what you did was proper for a Dragonblooded, but continuing is-wait what's that ruckus?"
"Huh? What are you—?"
I̸̹̪̳͖̳̒͛̈́̓̊̽̅F̹̝͌ͣ̂̀͆͒ͭ͘͠ ͉̲̜̺̝̩̑ͧ̿ͫ͆ͦ̍͌͞W̖̫͖͇̙͎̐̚͢E̸͙̤ͬ͆̈́̒̀ ̶̸̖̝͚̦͈̥͖̲̈͂̍͟ͅC̶͇̞̲̳̹̯̫̳̯͛ͧ͆͗̀Ǒ̮̺̜͓̝̞͖͛͒̚͠͡U͎̘̻͕̹͎̥̱̎̈́͆̀̍̾̄̀L̳̘̓ͣ̉ͧ̈́ͪͧD̩̦̥ͤ͢ ̪̱̘̲͖̯̯͚ͨͨͮ̚G̶̛̙̪͍̰̘͕̞̜ͦ̐̓̃̌͛̃E̸̢̳͕̰̞̟̗͍̫̅̍̐̚ͅT̨͎̞̤͖̣̰̺ͩͪ̎ͨ͊̈́͆̃ ̋͛̍͗̇͑̍̒A̧͈̗̼͉̱͓̹̫̝̍̒ͩ̒͜ ̧̰̈́ͭͧ̈͘S͉̲̰ͤ͌̓͌̀͆P̧̡̯͕̪̻ͥ̏̈̄ͫ͆ͫ̎̚͡O͈̩̰͈̗̞̔̂ͧͮ̅̿̓͢͝͠ͅT͎̻̾ͮL̢̹͖̰̻̹̯̍͑̾́͡Ḭ̟͍̮̖͚ͤ̍͒̌̈́ͩ͡G̛̺̞͉̻̞̱͐ͮ̓̍ͤͦ͡H̡͇͔͖͖ͪ͆ͮͬ͑́ͅT̗͚̟ͥͦͪ͋̽́ ̶̼̬̞̖̫̖̌̋O̷͚̾͆̏̏͟V̡̭͑̅̒̀ͩͤͣ̊̃Ê̢͇͇̆ͮ͡R̯̹̜̞̔̏ͭ̒ͣ̀ͥ ̫̟͙̻̙̍̉ͯ̐́ͯ͢H̟͇̝͇̫̙̹͓ͥ̊ͩ̂ͥ̑͟E̡͎̭̣̱͈ͪ̈ͫͬ̓͢R̡̂̀̏ͩͥ̉ͬ͑͏͚̹̼̘̲̰Ȩ̴̘̜ͫ̌͢ ̶̻̙ͩ̌P͓̟̭̼̞͈ͥ͊͡L̨̨̯͉͖͇̙̗̐̎̋̐̉͒̈̂E̛̩̝̺̰̰̳̰̒̍͗̽̍ͭͭ͂ͅA͓̳̯͍̠̙̔́̈ͮ͆́ͧS̙̓̇̈́͌̕E̪̼̲͓̩̭̘͉͗̀ͫͯ̕ ̭̳͎̼̦͚͓ͯͥ̀͑́̉̕A̢̼̱͂̍̆ͫͬN̶͎͖͎̽͂̂̇ͥD̼̜͓̣̼ͯ̂̓̓͌́́ ̶̸͙̌͂̓Ţ̨͔͇̲̥̹̞̩̏̿ͤ̈́ͬ͢H̹̤̖̼̯͈͙͉͊͌͛̈́̎͌̀A̶̷̰̺͇͉̖̙̫͛ͫ͆̎Ṉ̨̽̐͂̊ͧ͂͝K̈͗ ̧̡͙̜̰̤͗͆ͦ͊͛̇͟Yͧͮ͏͕̬͉̘̠̤̝Ó̧̺̜́ͭ̋͒Ų̰̖̗̺̥͖̫̱ͨ͑ͬ̌ͣͯ̋̉ͩͥ̏̀̊
The handsome man leans on the edge of the buffet table, turning his back to the boorish mortal who spent the past several minutes subtly accusing him of theoretically entertaining but ultimately boring crimes while making sure to give the ladies watching a generous show of his superbly sculptured muscles straining against the tight shirt of his tailored tuxedo. His gaze sweeps over the rest of the party, taking note of interesting-looking characters he may have missed before and developments within and without the different social factions. He briefly stops over the, admittedly, beautiful mortal lady engaging in conversation with two others, one of which is the party's generous host. He allows himself a brief smile of approval as her well-crafted mask: enough to fool a Son of the Dragons into complacency, but obviously not enough a true master like himself.
A woman approaches him, a tray with a single glass containing an amber liquid perfectly balanced on her hand. She is dressed like a server, yet her beauty and unspoken confidence puts her above the rest of the Numbers currently serving around the lavish mansion. "Next time, dear brother, you're the help." She whispers when they're close enough, holding out the tray to him.
"When pigs fly, dear sister. And I mean all of them." He whispers back while taking the glass. He doesn't put it near his face of course, he knows better. "Now, what did you find out?"
"We're surrounded and they're closing in fast. Options?"
He suspected as much when they realized the connection between the two mortals that approached both of them at the same time. There is a story behind all of this, and he oh so loves a good story. Especially when he's the main character. "Simple: I deal with those coming from ahead, and you watch my back." He lightly taps one leg of the table with his foot.
"What an impressive plan." Despite the sarcasm of her words she gives him a small nod before turning around and walking away.
He follows a few seconds later, just enough to make any potential observer believe the exchange was a coincidence. The boorish mortal is still standing there, silently fuming at his own impotence. "Did the pause last enough for your liking?"
"You misunderstand my actions. The pause was for you." He enjoys the mortal's confusion, using the time his eyes are focused on his face to move the hand holding the glass in the right position. Behind him he can hear his sister's voice. "Have you finally realized that all of your accusations are pointless and thus you should drop them?"
The mortal's body shudders before he takes a step forward, one hand moving towards the concealed firearm on his side.
He splashes the glass' content into his face. After the initial moment of surprise the mortal immediately starts gagging, the poison contained in the glass pouring through his skin and paralyzing his respiratory system.
The mortal currently interrogating his sister looks over her shoulders at the sounds of distress coming from his friend. With a smooth movement she moves the tray to the other hand, revealing the stiletto she was hiding in her sleeve and stabbing it between the mortal's ribs. "No love. I don't like it rough, and I am not interested in sleeping with you." She whispers into the ear of the dying man before stepping back and walking away like nothing happened, letting the body fall face-first on the ground, the weight pushing the stiletto even deeper inside and hiding it from sight.
She approaches the man sneaking behind her brother while another confront him from the front. Their assailants clearly aren't bothering with subtlety anymore, so that lets her free to thrust the tray's edge into his neck: not enough to kill him sadly, but it will put him out of commission for a few hours. With that done she steps past him and moves behind her brother, who had incapacitated his opponent with one of those fancy martial art moves he recently took a liking to.
Just in time for a group of guards to push past the still stunned guests and point assault rifles at the two siblings.
"Well, well, well. Thank you for confirming what my subordinates told me." A britannian noble wearing fancy robes of red and gold stands behind the guards. He glances at the four corpses on the ground before sneering at the two siblings. "Gef and Daryllyn Menehune. By my authority as an officer of His Majesty the Emperor's army I declare you under arrest. I suggest you cease further resistance."
"You didn't mention the rifles, dear sister." The brother whispers to the sister as they instinctively move closer to each other, their back almost brushing.
"It was implied in the 'being surrounded' part, dear brother." She remarks.
Annoying, but luckily they have a lot of fabulous options to get out of this.
[] Their hand-to-hands skills are a thing of beauty. Firearms are nothing compared to them.
[] Rifles are so undignified. Much better to use smaller and more streamline guns, like the ones they concealed on themselves.
[] Time to make a break for it using their high-tech and gadget-loaded car.
